salt for the soul

We saw Talledega Nights last night. It was pretty funny, a great example of letting inhibitions go free. I suspect a lot of it was improv. The whole discussion about what Jesus everyone likes is about one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Ricky Bobby prays, "Dear Baby-Jesus, 8 pounds 6 ounces, wrapped in swaddling sheepskin diaper, still can't see but somehow you're omnipitent..." Anyway, I giggled my way through that one.

I just volunteered to critique some erotica. Yeah, I know, it's a stretch. This name isn't actually just made up, you know. I have actually written some sex scenes, and I have written one in Starbucks, though the setting wasn't Starbucks. But I need to rough up my inhibitions and stretch myself. It's 2006, I was published this year, but I still have roads I want to travel as a writer. God willing they be rocky. A writer can never grow too comfortable. We have to walk that line of never quite belonging, never quite saying all of what we mean, never quite connecting, or I think we lose what makes us write. I don't mean that it always has to be umpleasant, or even that we can't have love and friendship and solidarity. But part of us must be locked away, accessable only by writing.

A good friend recently mentioned that she thought I was really conservative. Me. Yeah. The chic who goes by Sex. Maybe she's right. It's not like I get weird looks at the school or anything (well, except by that hot vice principal, but that's the kind of look I like, ya know?).

But then she read my stuff. I always have some homosexual flirtation or theme running through it, which apparently shocks some people. I dunno. Maybe it will keep me from getting a guy agent, eh? But I think the theme of "love comes in strange combinations" is important for today's market and world. Just like exploring how to bring religions together, accepting peace despite our differences, and embracing rather than exploding other cultures. Anyway, more importantly, now I'm thinking on how to spice up my look. I might have to go shopping today.

I'm really enjoying Sleeper Cell, though apparently I missed this very valuable episode where this guy is tortured and then escapes. I do so love a well-constructed torture scene. But there's violence, folks on the precipice between madness and conviction, guilty gay sex, cute FBI agents, and wonderfully rounded characters, facing internal and external fire every day for what they do.

Man, my muffin is atomic-hot.

Anyway, Happy Christmas. If you don't celebrate, then, well, uh, Happy Monday.

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