30 May, 2017


i decided to write a smut book, out of the blue. it had sort of been hanging around the less savoury corners of my mind, and i finally figured that since i'm still gainfully unemployed, i might as well put my dirty ole brain to some use. so yeah. almost finished one, and deeply into a second now, and hells' bells, it's been a long time since i've been so much into something. i look forward to writing and when i write all i want to do is keep writing. and yes, it's smut, so a big chunk of it is finding synonyms for penis and vagina and all the noises one has come to associate with sex in popular literature, but yes, there is also a plot.

aside: told a friend about this and he was super supportive but when i told him i'd started a second one he was quite flummoxed - how can one smut book differ from another? i had to explain to him that i was not writing porn, i was writing smut, and that the difference was in the actual presence of plot. so there. 


when i'm not writing it, i'm thinking about it, which means that some interesting conversations take place. case in point:

moi: can you dislocate a hip? (re: war, not sex; i'm not into that kind of sick shit, m'kay?)

mr. monkey: well... yes, but it's hard to do by yourself.

moi: ...

mr. m: ...

moi: why? how many people would it take?

both: lolz


turns out writing is far from a solitary endeavour as far as i'm concerned, so i have called on my friends to help me. they are endlessly supportive, come up with characters' names, and have, at the very start, helped me with the very synonyms i mentioned earlier. there's a lot of work that goes into this: does one use the word "dick" or "cock"? is there an inherent elegance in one versus the other? what does one say instead of "ass"? because our work began with genital synonyms, i have named them the itty bitty titty and kitty committy and we do great work together. great work.


i think this is all i have to say on the topic. apparently i don't blog much anymore, but that's cause i'm writing smut. 

16 May, 2017

moving on

i just came back from spending ten days in ontario, where i helped my parents do some final sorting and packing of their home of 26 years before their move back to edmonton.

every morning, my mom and i would go for a long walk along the lake, and then we'd spend the day packing and the evening drinking wine and watching a movie, with the occasional foray into sunset country.  overall, it was a great trip, though it reminded me again (mainly via my mom's mouth and the words that came out of it) that they were getting on in years. i never think of my parents as particularly old because they are so spectacularly fit and hip and with it, but i guess when you start pulling up to the dreaded 7-0 it doesn't much matter what i think: the world sees you as old. even if you're a young old. at any rate, my not-at-all-old parents had done a bang up job of ridding their house of superfluities - a job i started last year, thinking it would be beyond them to continue (not an age thing at all - more of my dad's inability to get rid of stuff... until he discovered garage sales!), but alas, their house was almost empty.

it's funny - they moved there when i was 19, and since that time i would go visit them at least once a year. and each time i went to visit, someone was bound to say, "oh, you're going home!" and i had to explain that no, this place wasn't my home, that my parents had moved away, etc. etc. yadda, yadda. well, surprise. after 26 years in one place, even if you only visit it once a year, it becomes something akin to home. it is the place my parents have lived longer than they had ever lived anywhere else ever. EVER. and so i was shocked to discover a twinge in my heart when i said goodbye to the house. not full out sadness, mind you - i'm thrilled they're moving west to where everyone else lives - but an acknowledgement of the part the house played in my life. goodbye house. goodbye lake. it's been good knowing you!