Saturday, November 13, 2010



Yesterday I was at the library with my boring American children. We were sitting there reading boring books about white people eating boring turkeys when these adorable little bambinis from Italy came running in, crying out "Mama, Papi, canna we playa con la computadora?" in pleasantly accented voices.

I was going to ask one of their parents if I could trade them their moppet for one of my kids who say unmusical things like "computER", and, "I love you mom, you're so pretty" instead of 'mami'. But some hawk-eyed librarian was watching me and I think she was on to my grift.

Anyway, my point is, if I had one of those superior Mediterranean children I could record one of them saying it to you like this:

"Mis computadora esta no vive! Esta muerta! Por favora mama belissima, cana I cleana upa my budoira now? And then make-ah you some superiora pastisseries?"

That's right. Italian PLUS French. Suckers.

Waiting for a new ac adapter to arrive. Did you know they're 11 bucks on amazon and 60 at Walmart? Who knew?

See you Tuesday.

I am Vesuvius and I should have married that guy named Paolo. He waited on me once in a restaurant, but I tell you, he gave me the eyes.

I am Vesuvius and I made up that stuff about Paolo.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Blog Fail


Dear Readers,

I am sorry.

I had a massive writer failure. I was aiming for a tone of 'too much to do!' and 'need a breather!'. And instead, as it turns out, what I actually hit was 'I am being forced against my will to watch Sex and the City 2 and the man behind me is loudly consuming snacks!' and gave you all flashbacks to that time in high school when one of your friends got dumped and started talking about how she just wanted to 'end it all' and you all had to (got to?) act really concerned and overly dramatic about it for awhile. And maybe you all went and talked to an approachable teacher or coach about it and then they had to be really concerned and be all, 'this is a very serious matter' about it and then they separated the boys and the girls and gave you some sort of talk that ended with a prayer and donuts.


Throw in a picture that is, in retrospect, rather dismal, and title it after a Neko Case song that apparently no one else has listened to and you've got a recipe for disaster.

I didn't realize until I got a call from my mother asking me "are you ok?" in that way only mothers do. And then people started offering to bring me dinner and slipping me websites and phone numbers of 'people who can help' and a stranger at Wal-Mart actually offered me valium to make the pain go away, but I don't think she had read my blog. I think that was just a coincidence.

Anyway I think I'm more depressed now than I was when I wrote Cold and Shivers because of my own massive writerly failure and now I'm pulling all my hair out and haven't brushed my teeth in three days and I keep pounding things out angrily on a typewriter only to yank them from the reel and stuff them into my mouth and swallow both because my writing is so ghastly awful and because I will never be appreciated for the genius I am. **

I don't often feel as dark in my soul as I made you all believe I was feeling. And if I do, I don't blog because that's just ugly. I wait for it to pass and then I blog about the aftermath. Which may still be ugly but is generally less disturbing for readers.

So I thank you for your kindnesses and concern, and I'm sorry I scared you. Please don't leave me. You wouldn't want that emotion bear to start ripping out my innards with his claws of self-loathing and his sweet breath of long-expected failure, do you?

I am Vesuvius and the bear lines are funnier if you imagine Will Ferrell saying them.

**Just kidding!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Cold and Shivers

Vesuvius is taking a break to stave off a nervous breakdown.

Anxiety + panic + worry = Vesuvius' creative self hunkered down on an ice floe somewhere, naked, shivering and stroking a dead fish.

Please check back later. Things always warm up again.




Don't panic! The fish thing was supposed to be funny. Nothing's too bad (except I fear I have incurred the wrath of my daughter's bonhomous school principal. But that's a story for another day).

Offerings of wine and chocolate are accepted, as always.

Carry on.

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