But the truth is, she's my mistress. She's a lot of fun to look at naked, but she's not where my heart lies.

Of course, there's the whole balancing issue. I'm sure part of the problem has to do with that.

Right now, I have several pairs of wearable jeans. But not one of them is my favorite. My favorites all have big holes in them. And that leaves me with no old standby to wear to anything that isn't a Poison concert or my monthly Grunge Club social. Even then, it's really just too cold to wear these swathes of denim. So instead, I wear one of The Others.

Recently my writing professor asked us to bring to class a writing sample (somebody else's work) that we find "beautiful" or "dangerous." My first thought was: beautiful OR dangerous? Isn't that redundant?

There are a million and one reasons not to do something. But they all usually amount to one thing: fear. And let me just say that I've got some of the fear and some of the dread when it comes to this thing I've started, "Fiction Fridays."

I didn't participate in NaNoWriMo this year, nor have I for any of the years since it began. I'm not sure if I ever will, actually. It just seems like I might wind up horribly maimed in some way or, worst case scenario, dead.

The guy is pretty amazing and I think I want him to be my best friend. The word 'man-crush' comes to mind. It would be great. We would sit in coffee shops and be witty and sardonic and use lots of plays on words.

I've been reading and re-reading Hemingway lately, partly because I'm just enjoying his style, but partly because I'm hoping to learn, through osmosis, the art of writing while pleasantly pissed. Unfortunately, I haven't had much luck in this pursuit . . .

In hotels, you find yourself reading USA Today . . .

Articles like this depress me.