"I'd like to tell you about the day I had" 4.10.07

(Looking at a postcard with a picture of Ganesh on it)

I'd like to tell you about the day I had. I was wandering around minding my own business when my parents started bugging me. Man, they wouldn't leave me alone! We got into a bit fight, which ended, as you might expect, with my head getting chopped off. Dang. Luckily, I stumbled upon the carcass of an elephant and -- voila! -- Ganesh!

I really don't remember how that Hindu tale goes. I get frustrated sometimes when I can't remember details of things. I recall feelings much more clearly. "What was that movie about?" I don't know, but I know I liked it. "What were you fighting about?" I have no idea.

Ganesh has a lot of arms. I wonder if it gets confusing.

I'm thinking about attending a workshop called "The 8 Limbs of Yoga." Actually I think it probably has a fancier title, but that's the gist of it. It's going to be taught by a 3rd-level Ashtanga practitioner. She is a woman and I hear it's rare that women are able to reach that level because of our lack of sufficient upper-body strength. I bet Ganesh would have no problems, even if he were female, what with that extra set of arms.

One time in fiction workshop in college, a guy came into class with a decidedly nonfiction story about the details of our last class meeting -- who sat where, who said what, who insulted whom. It felt very surreal. Of course, I don't remember any of the details.

In another class taught by the same instruction, a general writing class, I wrote a piece of fiction. The teacher had one comment on my story -- "You can't say she turned a slow shade of red. Shade of red cannot be slow." Ok, thanks.

Sometimes I wonder if my critic is making money at my job or I am.

Oh, dear, what was the writing prompt -- Let me tell you about the day I had... Hmm, if someone started a sentence like that I think the boredom lights would blink on immediately. But maybe that's just the critic talking.