An ill wind has been blowing my way of late.
Not only is the household under threat from city inspectors intent on taking away as much of the little money I still have as possible over the issue of the non-working swimming pool, a plethora of other things is continuing to happen to push me towards the dark side of the force.
Not only have I not made reservations at the local nudist camp in Alvord, Texas… I have not even purchased a tent yet. Whether they will pay me for blogging or not depends on accepting my work to begin with. And reviewing the camp will cost me more in usage fees and equipment purchases than I will make on the blog by far. Especially if they decide they don’t like my stuff enough to pay me for it. That is a ridiculous thing to do for no monetary return. So, what’s the worst that could happen if I simply refuse to go through with it? I signed up as a nudist with the AANR (Arbitrary Association of Nudist Ridiculousness? I forget what the acronym really means) for nothing, then. So maybe you need not worry about me and my awful pink-spotted corpus ridiculousum going nude anywhere public any longer. I can breathe a sigh of relief too.
And my internet is out. Saturday morning, before my blog was finished, the internet went offline. And yesterday afternoon the technicians did not find anything wrong with the lines outside the house. So the repair appointment got scheduled for 8:00 a.m. Tuesday morning. That’s right, on the 4th of July holiday. Lucky me. Even luckier them, meaning the technicians who have to work that day and crawl through my attic rat-land to get to the problem.

So you may have noticed, I haven’t kept up my posting streak on WordPress this weekend. This post won’t appear until after the 4th at least. Bummer. It means my streak ends at precisely two years and seven months of posting every single day. 880 days of writing a post every day.
Of course, I have still maintained my practice of writing something every single day. And I have written at least 500 words each of those days I have been offline. Once you really start being a writer, it is like being a diabetic, you can never stop being one again. Not only have I written these late-posted blog posts, but I have been working on publishing Magical Miss Morgan and writing the second draft of The Baby Werewolf at the same time.
So, I have a number of issues pressing me to come to angriness and the power of the dark side. Can you believe me as Darth Mickey? What terrible power I will wield! Wait… what terrible power will I wield? Can you use humor-writing for evil? Other than becoming a nudist for the sake of writing humor, I mean? And of course, my fallen-Jedi masters tell me that the dark side shouldn’t be considered “evil”. Though Republicans say giving tax cuts to billionaires will make us all better off, so there’s that line of logic gone down the toilet.













So we returned to Texas, and that is probably where the sunset of my life will take place. I am retired from teaching now. I am blogging and telling lies instead… well, writing fiction. I should have another book published soon. And it has fairies in it. So maybe there is still time to pull off the REALLY BIG LIES.


ege. It struck me that it was hauntingly beautiful… but maybe I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant.







Stupid Is as Stupid Does
This is not a tribute to Winston Groom and his famous creation, Forrest Gump. This is an admission that when I have had very little sleep and lots of worry lines on my brow, I often do remarkably stupid things.
And sometimes, doing something monumentally stupid makes me feel better. You know, more a part of the stupid, meaningless, and goofy world around me. So, what stupid thing did I do? I joined a nudist organization’s website. Me, who freaks out when members of my own family happen to see me naked. And, you see, there is more to joining this organization than just signing up for some random thing on the internet where you get a lot of random emails. I had to submit nude photos of myself to be posted in community forums. And I may be able to write a blog for this website, which will mean taking some camping gear and actually going to the naturist club site near Dallas to experience the things I will be writing about… and probably making jokes about. But don’t be afraid of being subjected to the hideous torture of having to see me naked. In order to see any of that, you would have to join the organization yourself, and you are probably not as stupid as me. (But I am not telling you the name of the website anyway.)
This is a detail from an illustration based on Golding’s Lord of the Flies. But it is also a picture of me and a childhood friend from back in the skinny-dipping days, based on an old black-and-white photo.
You see, I have some real life experiences with nudists before this happened. I had a roommate in grad school who liked to go au naturel, and even was comfortable with me being in the room when his girlfriend was visiting. He was nude in the kitchen one time when my grandparents came to visit. It is a good thing my grandfather entered that room ahead of my grandmother. I also had a girlfriend in the eighties who had a sister living in the clothing-optional apartment complex in Austin, Texas. Every time we visited Austin, the city nearest where my parents lived, she would stay with her sister there and I would have to go in to fetch her whenever we had plans. Sometimes I was there just to visit. But always, since clothing was optional, I took that option. I did get used to being around naked people, though. I actually have nudist friends.
So, though I am not a nudist, I guess I already know a lot about how to be one. It is how I managed to stumble into this awkward arrangement.
I know I will never be able to get my wife to go along on this harrowing adventure. She refuses to even consider going nude in the house. She has to wear clothes to bed even though studies say that sleeping nude is good for you. I will be facing this basically naked and alone. And possible paid writing work will never make this worth it by itself.
But my photos are already posted and approved. My membership is a real thing. And I am not ready to shoot myself for this stupid decision. In fact, I will probably be less naked there than I have been here in this very blog where my every secret is laid bare and made fun of on a daily basis.
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Filed under battling depression, commentary, feeling sorry for myself, humor, nudes, Paffooney, self pity, self portrait, strange and wonderful ideas about life
Tagged as bad decisions, humor, naturists and nudists, stupid stuff, stupidity