Tag Archives: goofiness

Blowing Up My Brain (Accidentally, of Course)

Color boy

Yesterday was my best day for views ever on WordPress.  I crossed the 100 view, 59 visitors per hour barrier.   How the heck did that happen?  Why do so many people suddenly want to see my goofiness in blog form?  Have I suddenly realized my dream of attracting readers to my words and wit and artwork?  I think not.  No one post brought this on.  I did not have any sudden aha! moment of perfect post creation.  I posted a post yesterday about lying based on my love/hate relationship with politics.  I posted before that about my Paffooney creating process and my psychotic collecto-mania as it intersects that fantastic life in plastic of Barbie.  None of that should have generated so much interest.  And most of the posts viewed, over a hundred of them, were single-viewer hits on separate posts.  So I now have a conspiracy theory of my own to pursue.  Are the Illuminati or the Freemasons trying to lead me down dark paths of misinformation?  Are aliens suddenly becoming aware of the story told in Catch a Falling Star?  Cool!  But probably not the answer.  The only factor I could seize on that might explain this anomaly is the fact that somebody re-posted my Barbie Shelf post.

The Militant Negro (://theobamacrat.com/The Militant Negro, a progressive political site with keen insights and a lot of followers re-posted my foofoo post about collecting Barbie dolls.  I haven’t been brave enough yet to ask why.  Maybe I should’ve kept it all more of a secret.  Maybe they are all examining my posts now for evidence of dementia or possible lunatic plans to take over the world through manipulative toys… or maybe my paranoia.  But for some reason, I must’ve sparked curiosity in a part of the blog-world where I never suspected it would be.

Creativity

Hopefully I haven’t shot myself in the foot with this post which includes bare butts and butterflies.  Oh, no!

2 Comments

Filed under blog posting, humor, Paffooney

The Barbie Shelf

Goofy-guy doll collector, me, will now give you a grand tour of the Barbie Shelf.  This is a place in my home that was originally created by the previous owners of the house.  It was a place in the upstairs play room apparently meant for the things that needed to be kept out of little girls’ reach.  Maybe pampers and baby wipes.  Cleaning supplies.  And possibly toys that were not to be broken immediately and had to be regulated.  I don’t know why else you would grace a playroom with a shelf up near the ceiling and above the only door into the room.  It was, however, perfect for the plastic people who were destined to take it over as their own.

20150110_152822

It begins above the bedroom door.  My wife has a thing about keeping her dolls mint in box.  She has more of an eye to their value as collectible investments.  The fashion Barbie nestled above the door in her box is a recreation of a 1962 doll that was reissued in 1999.  You can also see the Teacher Barbie that the Princess once de-boxed and played with.  And there you can also see the start of the Wizard of Oz collection.  There are little munchkin dolls and the Ken doll dressed as the Cowardly Lion in the picture.

20150110_152813

In front of Dorothy and Glinda from Oz, you see some of the recycled Goodwill Barbies that I bought naked and abandoned, cleaned and dressed, washed and tried to brush out their hair.  One of them had some marker on her face that had to be soaked off with secret sauce to restore a more human look.  The one in the middle is a 1980’s Asian Barbie.  There is also a Cowgirl Barbie wearing an extra gun belt from a CA Lone Ranger set.

20150102_080605

The kids are protected by Eustace the purple pottery dragon who was fired in my mother’s kiln during the height of her doll-making hobby and painted by me.  The kids here include a tiny Tommy doll, three Skippers from the early 70’s, and Hermione from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  You can see the Scarecrow and the Tin Man in the back, and there’s also Goodwill Barbie that for some odd reason has purple hair.

20150102_080623

Ricky (a 1960’s boy toy for Skipper) sits with Ashley Olsen between more recycled Goodwill Barbies.  1980’s Skipper is trying to push poor roller-skate Barbie off the shelf.

20150110_152719

My newest My Little Pony in mutant almost human form, Rainbow Dash the Equestria girl, is the blue doll in the middle here.  Mary-Kate Olsen can be seen in the Blue dress.  All you can see of Britney Spears here are her legs and feet, probably a safety feature of this tour.  The topless ballerina Barbie is wearing a jacket, but I could not close it on her extra large Barbie mammaries.  Princess Jasmine, my daughter’s somewhat beat-up favorite begins Disney Princess Row.

20150110_152657

Li Shang is still mint in box, but Mulan isn’t even on the shelf any more.  Some of Mom’s dolls got played with by the Princess.  Mulan lost her hair.  There is one American Girl doll here, bought at a yard sale for 25 cents, but I found a dress to fit her at Walmart in a sale bin.  Unfortunately I can’t name her correctly yet and she is barefoot like most of the Goodwill dolls.

20150110_152645

Almost to the end of the shelf, you can now see Apple Jack and Twilight Sparkle, my other two mutant pony girls, discovered at an After-Christmas Sale at Toys-R-Us.  They are standing on Grandma Beyer’s home bingo set from the 1930’s, and Disney Princesses are lined up behind them.

20150112_145808At the tail end of the shelf you will see Twilight Sparkle again to take the focus off poor 1980’s nudist Skipper (I robbed her of her clothes for one of the older, more rare Skippers that are worth a bit more to collectors).  Seated between is Asian Rock n Roll Barbie (Leah actually).  You may have noticed I am careful not to over-identify any of the members of the collection.  I got taken to task on E-Bay about descriptions of which Barbie was which once.  There are people out there much more rabid about doll collecting than I.  The difference between a 1980’s Butterfly Tattoo Barbie and an Anniversary Edition Malibu Barbie can get you challenged to a duel… with rapiers… in France.  I had to talk him into balloons and blunderbusses (an idea borrowed from Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines), and I lost.  I had to settle for the price offered even though my own research suggested I was not wrong.  (Well, okay, maybe I didn’t really go through with the duel thing, but the argument was just as intense and just as silly as that.)

So that is my long-winded essay on the essentials of the Barbie Shelf.  I will be looking at it a lot for the next few years since it is in the room I am using as my bedroom.  (Not in perfect health, I needed a room that I could completely seal up at night in order to breathe better.)  I really didn’t think I could pull off 500 words about this one goofy shelf in the house, but I now realize that I have nearly reached 900.

7 Comments

Filed under Barbie and Ken, doll collecting, humor

Sanctuary

This is my library, the place where I keep my books.  It is also a place for my doll collection and the Dungeons and Dragons game that I’ve been playing with my kids for more than a decade.  It is a place to read and think and… oh, yeah, there’s an X-Box also.  Well, that’s one way to get the kids to spend time there too.

20150110_134421

I do realize what a jumbled mess it is.  The shelves are all cheap Walmart kits that I built myself.  Some have been damaged over time and travel.  I have rebuilt them, restocked them, and rearranged them time and again.

20150110_134530

This reading nook is currently being used to display parts of my Captain Action collection.  The Captain America costume on the left is my original property from Christmas 1967.  The Steve Canyon costume next to it is an E-bay purchase and a rare find from a decade ago.  Aquaman is a combination.  The mask, trident,conch horn, and swim fins are from my original set from Christmas 1966.  The suit itself had to be replaced from E-Bay because I played with it until it was no more than a mass of frayed thread.  The gloves come from a innovative toy company called Classic Plastick run by Wes McCue.  http://classicplastick.proboards.com/  You may notice cups and junk left by kids in my library.  Cheetos wrappers from food that my daughter the Princess loves are often found crammed in between the books.

20150117_110057 20150117_110116

This alcove is where I store my customized Star Wars’ Twi’leck Barbie which I made myself with acrylic paint, Sculpey plasticine, exacto-knife, and Crazy Glue.  It also is where I store my antique book collection, some of which are a hundred years old or more.  (I have books from my Grandparents’ libraries as well as some from my own childhood.)

Let me show you the Star Wars shelf.  (It is not big enough for all my twelve-inch Star Wars action figures, but… oh, well.

20150110_134509

Here is the back side of the shelf.  (How did topless Mermaid Barbie get in there?)20150110_134644

I also have a corner for the X-Box and the TV it is attached to.  (But Dr. Evil is holding it hostage at this writing.)

20150116_181701

And finally, let me bore you with the fact that the small upstairs bedroom that is now the library does not have enough room to contain all my books.  The library also fills up the upstairs hall and large portion of my bedroom/studio.

20150110_134346

It has been said that my library is as cluttered as my mind is.  But don’t you believe it.  My inner world makes this manifestation in the outer world look Spartan by comparison.

2 Comments

Filed under autobiography, doll collecting, Paffooney, photo paffoonies

Paffooney Updates #2 – Following the Plan

Val in color 2

Okay, you should begin to see now that I am actually capable of finishing a project step by step.  Take no note of the fact that I have done a number of creative and wacky things in a scheduled order that looks like I put my to-do list in the mixing bowl and beat it to pieces with a wire Whisk.  (It is tricky to type this now, because my “o” key is giving out and I have to either punch it repeatedly, chews tu intentiunally misspell werds, or use verbiage sans that particular letter.)

I have been working on my novel projects at the same time as I have been coloring this beauty.  One would assume that it was the novel When The Captain Came Calling (Thank Gawd that title has no letter “O’s” in it), but naturally, it is naught.  I have been putting way more wit and words into my Sci-fi novel, Star Dusters and Lizard People, a sequel to Catch a Falling Star.  The Telleron crew of Xiar’s base ship have reached the planet Galtorr Prime, in the Delta Pavonis star system, and they are beginning to explore and find out what a miserable world it is.

I also added about half a chapter to the Captain novel, but I am still introducing the little people and the Pirates.  I have not even gotten to the sinister cloaked figure lurking in the shadows.  (This book is actually a re-write, so I am not creating from thin air like I am with the Stardusters.)  

I also spent time drawing a portrait of Sizzahl, a new character for Stardusters.  She is a little girl who is a biogeneticist and a genius who also happens to be a lizard person.  I will show you and tell  you more about her in an upcoming post.

So, I drew this project in a step by step order that was really more of a step here, then back-track over there for a bit, then do another small step, then go over here sort of order.  I can’t help it.  I am what educators call a “non-linear” thinker… also known as right-brained, global thinker, or total creative nut-job.

So, since I am not following a straight path anyway, let me finish this post by plugging a friend’s book.   My friend Stuart R. West is a blogger and novelist from Kansas.  His humorous blog is called Twisted Tales from Tornado Alley and can be found here http://stuartrwest.blogspot.com/.  I am recommending his new book that can be pre-ordered from Amazon.com.  I haven’t read it yet, but the book is called The Secret Society of Like-Minded Individuals : Book I

I honestly think you will like it.  If you can stand or understand my writing, you will find Stuart to unnamedbe very much the same kind of wacko bird.  I have to admit though, he does scary way better than me.  He knows his way around a thriller.  (And thank Gawd his name is not Stooart.  Dang “o” key!)

Leave a comment

Filed under artwork, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

Humor Me (Humor? Me?)

I am wondering now if it is appropriate to call what I do in my writing and my cartooning humor.  I tell stories.  As a school teacher in both junior high and high school, I told stories in class and made kids laugh.  (Okay, I admit, kids that age mixed with hormones, experiments with sex and alcohol, and under-developed frontal lobes in their brains will laugh at practically anything.  I know a teacher who crosses her eyes when talking to kids about their mistakes, and she has them rolling on the floor with giggle-fits.  This is now my fourth longest parenthetic expression, also known as an aside.  They would probably laugh about that.)  But is it fair to call that humor?

Mark Twain

I write stories filled with feel-good crap.  I’m as likely to make you cry as I am to make you laugh.  (At least, that is my intention.  You may laugh at things I intend to make the reader sad, and be sad or nauseated by the things I think are funny.)  How does that fit with the definition of humor on the internet?  I get a big kick out of some humor blogs I found on WordPress.   http://https://irtfyblog.wordpress.com/  I Refuse to Follow Your Blog is a master complainer.  He disses and crabs and totally kicks butt about a number of things.  (Though I must admit I used his list of un-funny humor blogs to follow a few more that give me chuckles… What can I say?  I’m a contrarian at times.  How can you teach seventh graders and not be?)  http://https://buffalotompeabodyblog.wordpress.com/  Buffalo Tom Peabody not only rocks my rib-cage with his wonderful photo-shopped self-cat-portraits, he makes a really guffaw-inducing set of videos on YouTube.  http://http://bensbitterblog.com/  Ben’s Bitter Blog is blithely bitter and better at bitter than any bitter blogger blogging bitterly that I have ever found.  Ben blogs bitter better than other bitter bloggers who blog with bitter butter… (All right!  I know.  Alliteration by itself isn’t funny.  It took me tons of tempestuous years teaching to learn that.)  http://http://dougdoeslife.com/  Doug Does Life  does a blog with a monkey that you have to see to believe.  They all make me laugh and they all seem to know better than I how to do the humor shtick.  So how dare I call what I write humor?

After the Charlie Hebdo incident, (which you may have noticed has seriously bruised my cartoony little heart)  I have to take humor and comedy in a whole new, more serious light.  Ralph Bakshi, a master cartoonist whom I adore, says that if your cartoons don’t piss somebody off and make some enemies, then you’re doing it wrong, and you have to stop calling yourself a cartoonist.  He says you are just an illustrator… in my case a children’s illustrator.  Do I need to be insulted by that?  Am I not a humorist?  Am I not funny?  I will tag this lunatic post as humor even though it’s not funny… well, not funny funny… just funny odd.  Will I get in trouble with the cartoon gods for doing it?  (Wait a minute… cartoon gods?  Are they gonna zap me with a cartoon fun-bolt or hit me in the face with a pie or something?  If they send terrorists, it may elevate my status.)  So I am asking a whole lot of questions and not answering them myself like usual.  After all, who decides if this is humor?  Not I.

Mickeynose

1 Comment

Filed under humor, Paffooney, philosophy

Nutsy Noodle is Playing with Dolls Again

Today, while buying food for the dog, I bought another toy.  I was going through the bargain shelves at Wal-Mart where the toys that didn’t fully survive the Christmas rush were being sold off at bargain prices.  Barbie dolls and girly stuff get opened and trashed far more often than action figures, so that’s exactly what I found.  (Okay, not exactly… but it is girly stuff… and it’s enough Barbie-like that I can buy it for the Barbie shelf… unless I have to start calling myself a Brony… oh, shudder… not that!)

Confession time:  It is Rainbow Dash, an Equestria Girl doll.  (I know, I know… Mutant My Little Pony critters that have been somehow radioactively transformed into a junior-high-type girl-thing/mutant horror.  Complete with radioactively enhanced cuteness genes.)  And it was not mint in package (the sacred goal of collectors), it was trash that Wal-Mart sold to me instead of throwing her in the garbage.  There was damage to the box as some goofy little girl (or even more worrisome, little boy) had tried to pull out pieces to steal.  Unlike Pinkie Pie, though, Rainbow still had all her limbs and accessories.  Here she is with a relatively unscathed back of the package.

Rainbow Dash

The second picture is for dramatic lighting effects.Rainbow Dash22

She also has all three attachable/detachable pony tails… but no actual way to attach them to her derriere like a proper pony.

20150105_162415

I realize I haven’t yet solved for you the real mystery; “Why did Nutsy Noodle spend money on a garbage-pail, throwaway toy that his beloved daughter, the Princess, is now too old to play with and doesn’t even want?”  Well, I collect dolls, you see, and a very valuable part of this purchase was the salvage that laymen (a term that here means “sane people” that don’t buy unwanted toys) don’t realize are valuable.

20150105_161452

These little clear-plastic bands can be used in a multitude of ways when displaying the “action figure” in question.  They hold plastic phasers in otherwise klunky doll hands.  Accessories are held in place.  My forty-year-old Captain Action Superman needs them to hold the split in his red, blue, and gold tights together, thus saving his privates (which here means exposed joints) from freezing off.  To buy these things separately would cost more than Rainbow Dash cost to rescue from the trash.  I salvaged ten of them from her package.

Besides.  I had a strange urge to play with her.

20150105_160958

No! No! No!  It’s not what you are thinking.  Besides, you can clearly see that her body is molded with built-in underwear!  It’s just that, um, with dolls like this (even G.I. Joe’s when you’re talking twelve-inch), part of the fun is changing their wardrobe.  I had to see if I was wrong about the clothing from Skipper and Stacie (Barbie’s Sisters) fitting.  And they do.

Rainbow Dash 3

Isn’t that precious?  She flew over to sit on my hat.  Of course, Stacie’s friend, Janet, didn’t think so.  She is mad and threatens to beat the crap out of Rainbow if she doesn’t get her clothes back.  No way will she ever trade for that horrible rainbow-stew-thing of a dress that RD came in.  And besides, that dress is only two pieces, and easily copied in some color far less vomit-inducing.  Of course, my sewing machine is still quite broken.

Rainbow Dash 4

2 Comments

Filed under doll collecting, humor, photo paffoonies

Dippy Duck Dreams

The hardest dream-to-reality connection to make is my duck nightmare.  I know I bummed the world out yesterday with unfunny dream deliberations.  But in this post I explore the lighter side of nightmares.  It all began when I was about four years old and we went to the Deer Park Zoo in Mason City, Iowa.

Truthfully, when you look at it from the proper point of view, at four you are small and all animals look like monsters.  The three ostriches they had in a chicken-wire pen were at least several hundred feet tall.  The deer were huge with giant Bambi-eyes.  I was little and still very much in a touchy-feely stage of life.  And the goose-pen had a large hole in the front, just large enough for a goose head and neck to fit through at high speed.  That is exactly what happened when one wide-eyed nerd-child wandered close enough to give a gander a premium chance at a beak-first goosing.  Whether my pants had to be changed immediately afterwards is something I have yet to work up the courage to ask my parents about.  No rush.  They are only in their eighties now.

Anyway, I was left with a recurring nightmare, always involving a duck or very similar waterfowl with big, massive, white dentures.  Yes, you heard right, a duck with teeth.  It’s all right for you to laugh now, but I woke up in cold sweat every single time I had that nightmare.  Right from the moment when I realize that the evil little duck-mind has fixed its wishes on taking a nice, big bite, to the split second where the toothy duck-head zips towards me, I am gripped with total existential terror.  And it wakes me up.

20150104_205916

So what does this doozy of a dream mean?  Do dreams have to have a meaning?  All two-hundred-plus times?  (I lost count, so sue me.)  I do believe, however that it must be some kind of anxiety dream.  And the last occurrence was now four years ago, so the possibility of duck-dream remission is very real to me.

If my last post chilled your innards, then hopefully this one lit them up with laughing gas.

Leap of FaithThis closing Paffooney from yesterday is entitled “The Leap of Faith”.  I’m not sure why that is important to know, but it is.

8 Comments

Filed under dreaming, humor, Paffooney

An Overdose of Cheerios

DSCN7214

I was trying to think what I would post today, and coming up blank.  I have a pathological need to keep posting here, especially since my brain is currently switched to editing mode for my novel The Magical Miss Morgan.  One can’t keep a sacred oath to write every day if there is no writing going on other than editing (which doesn’t count because no new creative thoughts are being generated and the fertile spore-producing areas of my mental storage shed may grow sterile for want of fresh garbage being piled there).  So I went looking through my file of photo Paffoonies to find something I haven’t already inflicted on potential readers to the point of making them gag and doing something sensible like shutting off their computer for a while.  Unfortunately all I found was this potential gag-inducing library photo of the time the Mighty Thor got drunk on overripe Cheerios and milk and decided to commit cave-man love on beautiful topless mermaid Barbie.  (I know… topless and in the possession of a fifty-eight-year-old man… kinda creepy… but honest, I am intending to make a shell bra with real sea shells and just haven’t gotten around to it yet, though I have the shells selected and the material cut.  My sewing machine is broken.  Yeah, that’s my story… and I’m sticking to it).  (Goodness!  That last parenthetic expression is the fifteenth longest one I have ever written!)

The picture was taken moments before the hammer came down to bonk her lightly on the brain.  Fortunately, this is Barbie we are talking about, and the excess air inside her plastic head probably saved her from fatal brain damage.  She was one of a half dozen naked Barbie dolls I rescued from Goodwill.  She is grateful for any attention she gets nowadays and responded to Thor’s drunken love tap by falling madly in love with him.  She chased the god of thunder all around the library that day to give him a big, fat mermaid smooch on the lips (or is that “big, fat, mermaid smooch on the lips”?  …because she’s not a fat mermaid).  She would have caught him too, but the mermaid fin-dress that I also found in a resale bargain store caused her to have to hop, and my messy library has so many un-filed books on the floor that she kept tripping and falling flat on her… face (yes, the face would’ve obviously hit the floor first, right?).

A week later I caught him obviously thinking about doing it again.

She likes to sunbathe in front of the Cheerios box that holds up one of the shelves on a nearby book case where the nails are coming loose.  (I have fixed it since the picture was taken and used the Cheerios box full of sand to hold up something else entirely.)
DSCN7213

I bought a mind-reading app for my digital camera and applied it to this photo because I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why he might be thinking about doing it again.  I threw the moldy old discarded bowl of Cheerios away because… well, you know that spoiled milk smell, right?  So, it couldn’t be that again.  Anyway, here’s the processed picture because this is the end of this daily post.  I have passed 550 words already.

DSCN72132

6 Comments

Filed under Barbie and Ken, doll collecting, humor, messy library, photo paffoonies

Toy Tiger

Tyger!  Tyger! Burning bright!

I see thee holy in the night,

This for that, and that for this,

Shoot the gun,

And never miss!

A sillier poem there will never be,

And Tyger!  Tyger!  this poem’s for thee.

DSCN5213

The first stuffed toy I ever owned was a tiger.  It was almost as big as me the first time I remember it.  I got it from Mom and Dad sometime before I started remembering things in my life.

When my oldest son was born I bought him a stuffed toy tiger.  It was bigger than he was at the start.  I don’t know why, but now that my son is a Marine in dress blues, looking spiffy and military trained… It just seemed important to remember a toy tiger.

1 Comment

Filed under goofiness, humor, Paffooney, poetry

How to Rip Your Own Heart Out in Three Easy Steps

Okay, I do admit that the title is entirely misleading and wholly inaccurate, but it got you wondering…  Didn’t it?  I have apparently developed tachycardia, a condition where the heart races and beats like a jackhammer plugged into a nuclear reactor.  It is not fatal in itself, though it may lead to heart attack or stroke which are definitely in the fatal category.  Yesterday I did two things about that little heart condition, one which hopefully helped, and another which definitely hurt.  So, let me tell you a fairy tale.

Magnolia No kidding.  It is a fairy tale about novel writing, feeling like a murderer, and cardiologists.

Step one… I went to the cardiologist in Plano, Texas.  I have had a heart monitor taped to my chest for three weeks.  I have to push the record button three or four times every night.  The tachycardia is a night-stalker, hitting me while I’m asleep.  Then it shakes me awake, makes me sweat and fret and try to decide if I need to go to the emergency room or not.  I lie awake worrying just long enough that when I awake in the morning I am a sleepless, colorless zombie that feels the need to stay in bed all day, but can’t for fear the heart problem will attack again at any moment.  The heart monitor itself likes to complain and make a nasty beeping noise to irritate my sleep-deprived brain, and the places where the electrodes are taped to my chest are so itchy from three weeks of sticky plastic thingies stuck to them that I want to claw my own skin off.

At the cardiologists office, I had a sonogram done.  They used sound waves to map out what my beating heart looked like and how the blood was flowing through it in daylight.  The objective was to make certain that there were no holes or lumps or discarded candy wrappers in there that would require surgery.  So I got probed with a hot sonogram beeper offset with cold contact gel, and wouldn’t you know it… I didn’t even get to take the heart monitor off for the procedure.  No rest for wicked, itchy chests.  But on the up side, I did not at any point notice the technician shaking her head sadly or calling for an ambulance.  There were no immediate negative results to the testing.  So now I get to fight tachycardia some more without knowing anything more about my condition until the doctor explains on December 30th.

Step Two…  I am using my down time to continue writing my NaNoWriMo novel, The Magical Miss Morgan, which I didn’t finish in November.  It is a story about a sixth grade English teacher based on personal experience, when I taught sixth graders myself and was a woman… wait, that can’t be right.  Is it possible that tachycardia effects the brain after a while?  The novel has a number of characters who are fairies.  Willowleaf(I did say this was based on real life experiences, didn’t I?)  The fairies get involved with an irate parent, trying to help the teacher who has befriended them, and I am at the critical part of the plot where a crisis point is reached and a murder is about to take place.  (The usual for parent-teacher conferences.)  Anyway the conflict comes to a boil, and though the murder is prevented, a fairy is killed in the prevention of it.  And it isn’t just any fairy.  It is my favorite among all the foofy little buggers.  I wrote that part on Monday and edit it into permanence yesterday.

Step Three…  I spent half an hour crying my eyes out.  I know it is not normal to be so affected by the unexpected death of a beloved character, but I can blame it on the tachycardia.  It kept me awake so much, and I am such a sleep-deprived zombie-writer that it is possible that I dreamed the whole thing.  I may discover when I reread it for a fourth time that the fairy character didn’t die after all.  Except… no, wait… that’s not what it says.  I need to finish this up now so that I can go on another half-hour crying jag.  I have no one to blame except myself.  And I can’t even write the character back to life (though I may try) because the scene is just too good the way it is.  Oh, well… hopefully soon the cardiologist can give me a magic pill to make everything all better.

Leave a comment

Filed under artwork, humor, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney