Tag Archives: James Durbin

Life As Seen from the Left Shoulder

26 Apr

Hey there hi there ho there. Why, yes, I have fallen off the face of the earth. Luckily, I landed somewhere around the left shoulder of the earth and hope to begin my climb soon.

                                                                                                                                                                      

It’s an odd neighborhood in which I live. Built at the height of the housing boom, it was among the first to go KAboom when the economy tanked. Must be interesting from the air — verdant yards with pools and swaying  palms checkerboarded with other yards that, for kindness’s sake, we call “replete with native flora.”

We fall among the natives.

Other than two half-barrels with blueberry bushes and one with a chrysanthemum, we get what nature gives us. This April, it’s given us graceful sea of yellow wildflowers. Lots of them. It was pretty, but it was also kind of suspicious. Nothing gifted so freely could be benevolent. Looked ’em up. Yep. Ragweed.

I’ve decided to invent an obscure form of allergy to the plant in order to explain my malaise of late. Forget sneezing.  Under the influence of ragweed, my brain has decided to act like it’s 3AM all day long. You know the nightmarish feeling. Today’s the worst.  Everything’s “stupid.” But I am afraid that a weed trimmer won’t help because I can’t invent an obscure version of the device that would match the power of my “allergy.”

I’m using too many quotes. See? Everything’s stupid. 😉

Changing the subject…

HEY! I totally called James Durbin’s song choice last week on American Idol. Out of all the songs released in the last eleven years, I went straight to the one he chose, Muse’s “Uprising.” Am I genius? Am I psychic? I had posted my guess on various discussion threads but was roundly ignored. So neener on them! Neener! (In order to be on a message board, one must be twelve or prepared to act twelve.)

My friend Sam introduced me to a word: phontrum. It’s a feeling of sympathetic embarrassment so intense, it causes one to squirm or, in severe cases, have to leave the room. It’s a useful word, especially when watching a movie or television.

I had a moment of fist pumping YES when I heard what James was singing (again, I’m twelve), and then I felt the fear. He was performing second — the death slot. (No matter what the producers say, the performer in the second slot is far more prone to elimination than anyone else, so they must schedule it that way intentionally after watching rehearsals.) Was he going to murder it? James is my favorite, and I probably have unreasonable hopes for each performance.

And then he comes out of smoke leading marching band drummers! PHONTRUM! Oh, the phontrum! We groaned, and I threw my arm over my eyes, unable to look. It turned out okay, although I had to watch it a few times before I could allow myself to enjoy it.

Today, (thanks ragweed) I am suffering phontrum about my own life. Don’t even get me started about the phontrum I feel about my novel. Remember, everything is stupid.

Anyway, just a random post to get me back in the habit. Hope you all have been doing well and are suffering no phontrum or obscure ragweed allergies.

Bogus

29 Mar

Spring pollen has entered my brain. It’s swirling in there, leaving me blank, scattered, and sleeeeepy. Hypnotic, that stuff. All I’ve had energy for lately is slow-poke reading on my Nook (Kerouac’s On the Road, at the moment) and hamster-like refreshing of American Idol blogs. More! More gossip and grousing, please! Why do I care? I shouldn’t. I don’t. But I do. When I’m this tired, it takes big manipulative shiny things to keep my attention. Plus, I just love that stupid show.

Last night, I dreamed about James Durbin. (No, not like that.) He was still in high school, and I was this Rufus-like character (Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure) who had to make sure he stayed on track to become an AI contestant in the future. Somehow, this involved helping him and his friends set off the school sprinkler system.

I’d say I need to turn off the television, but that’s my one and only TV vice, so I don’t want to. I’ll just say it’s because of my son’s asperger’s diagnosis and my hope to support him in his dreams. Okay? Okay. Good. ‘Nuff said.

On the writing front, I realized that if I ended my early chapters on a cliffhanger note, it gave me more momentum in starting the next chapters and kept each from having a happy ending (which is kind of a no-no).