i just wrote dogshit. i don’t think i’ve ever written something with a cuss word in the title.  goodness, i’m a smut writer. 

we got back from the beach and i’m missing salt water.  i want to bathe myself in the stuff.  drink it.  add more salt to it and eat it. with a fork.

i pulled Triumph of the Egg off my shelf and read some of it today.  it’s short stories and other strange things by Sherwood Anderson.  i got it a year ago in new mexico.  it was in this “antique” place, really it was just a bunch of old crap on old tables, and there were several old hardback books on a shelf.  laura found this one and thought i’d enjoy the title. i did, and i enjoyed the book too.  apparently the edition i have is mildly sought after by sad looking people like myself.