I’ve spent much too long this evening trying to pull together some kind of post about spending the afternoon in the war zone Castro Street has turned into
(construction has ripped up the streets and sidewalks like a gutted fish forcing you to navigate these narrow temporary corridors fenced in on all sides. It’s like being stuck inside Thunderdome.) Frustration with getting anything more than that parenthetical news bulletin reminds me of one of my favorite Dorothy Parker quotes:
Not so much block as complete desolation, I can’t think of anything or how to say it if I do think of it. I start to wonder if English is really my first language. Would I have better luck in Urdu?
Besides, what is blogging anymore but a quaint and dying hobby much like tatting? One by one, most of the blogs I used to read that, like mine, were first person accounts of how the blogger got along with their maddening (fill in the blank: spouse, job, addiction, cat, whatev) have all pretty much slipped beneath the waves, leaving me and a few other ranting souls, wearing our tinfoil hats and carrying on. Having a blog used to be hip, and then it was trite, and now it’s sort of musty.
So I decided to redecorate, hence the new background and header photo and other snappy touches. Also, looking up the Dorothy Parker quote (in order to get it actually correct. I’m pissy that way. I also don’t use “comprised” when I mean “composed.” Pissy.) I found a quote of hers that was unfamiliar to me, and which I’ve decided to use as my new cri de coeur:
|Who ya gonna call when you need snipers removed from your tastefully decorated crime scene?