Throughout the week, various things I want to write about will pop into my head, and I jot down little notes onto various scraps of paper so I won’t forget them.  (I have one tucked away into my wallet from February that I never got around to completely following up on.  Oops.)

As of right now, my never-ending scrap list has the following written on it: Bobby Flay –> frat boy; abortion, govt control of population, tinfoil hat shit; Jewish apple cake; language as a tool of patriarchy; support systems; and D & D treating me like/being wrong but not really.  Yes, they’re discombobulated notes that I kinda follow.  (Though “being wrong but not really” confused the hell out of me for several days, until I finally remembered what I meant.)

I sometimes wish there was a direct brain-to-internet portal inside of me, because it would often make my flowery, meandering words that much easier to follow.  Then again, given that I can be a bit harsh when drunk or emotional (oh, estrogen!), that might not be the best thing in the world.

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