Write drunk, edit sober.
I look at those empty cans in the trash bin. Then I look at the empty screen with its blinking cursor. So far it’s three to zero for the cans. Words are trailing far behind. But I won’t give up. It’s only a matter of time and patience. I open the next can.
“So, it turns out that the average number of blinks made by someone getting their photo taken is ten per minute. The average blink lasts about two hundred and fifty milliseconds and, in good indoor light, the camera shutter stays open for about eight milliseconds. Exciting, huh?!”
Oh, shit, really?
“This way, photographing thirty people in bad light would need about thirty shots. Once there’s around fifty people, even in good light, you can kiss your hopes of an unspoilt photo goodbye. Listen now, this is the most interesting part…”
Gosh, what a load of cack!
“To calculate the number of photos you’d need to take for groups of less than twenty, divide the number of people by three if there’s good light and two if the light’s bad. Hey, Calix, buy me a camera? Please, pretty pretty please! I’ll take a photo of you and Darwin!”
I take my eyes off the screen and point them at the tank sitting on the book shelf. The goldfish goggles at me from there, its own eyes pleading, magnified through the dirty glass.
“You got a smartphone at Christmas, didn’t you? Use that!”
The goldfish pouts and turns its luxuriously long tail towards me. I give a nonchalant shrug and get back to the throes of creation. I don’t have time for silly chitchats. It’s about one in the morning, four to zero for cans, and I’ve still no fucking idea what I’ll write for tomorrow’s advice column. Nasty egoistic sprat! Instead of babbling various nonsense about blinking and winking, it would be better if he helped me with the task at hand.
Absently, I pull a book from the shelf and open it at a random page.
He called out to the golden fish
and the fish swam up and asked him,
“What is it, old man, what do you need?”
Yes, I know what I fucking need now, but where can I find a bloody talking golden fish? This is life, silly Calix, not Pushkin’s fairy tales! I gloomily open the next can. At least the beer is real.
My last thought before my head droops on the table is that I need to wake up early and take out the trash. I don’t want Darwin seeing this mess. After all, every accomplished woman of letters has her own little secrets.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2018
unbolt me 
Okay, I’m thinking there’s an irony here … the blinking cursor, the empty page, yet … the written blog post.
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Hee hee hee! Would you believe that this never occurred to us until you pointed it out just now? 😛
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Your secrets are safe with me 😀
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Yay! And we all can breathe a sigh of relief… 😉
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Great one, guys! 😂😂😂
For me the problem is when I skip the editing, and all I’m left with is my beer breath. At least here we have 2l bottles…
Oh, I also have a source of useful information. Like “Portuguese citizens constitute 18% (?) of the population of Luxembourg” – something my hubby decided to inform me about after I started working for a new client. 😂
Cheers!
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Ha ha! I didn’t know that, so you can consider me educated now! 😛
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😉
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😛
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I want to write a book and my thoughts are bottle of wine, perfect location and I’ll be done in no time.
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Oh yeah! I say DO it! 😀
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Gonna try got me a new laptop computer so I have equipment just need a few bottles of wine 🤣
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Hic! 😛
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Amazing, I loved it.
Simple tale with humor. 🤗
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Tati thanks you, and we both thank you for visiting with us!
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Or, just video the group, and then scan the frames for one where most people have their eyes open. Jeeze, that sounds like a lot of work. Nix that. Just have everyone close their eyes — that way, at least you’re consistent.
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That’s a pretty good solution, Anony. I’ll go with that! 😛
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Breaking news!! A man in Massachusetts was the only fatality in a series of gas explosions when a chimney fell on the car he was in. What are the odds of dying that way? (I think they found a winning lottery ticket on the passenger seat.)
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Son of a bi— What a way to die, eh? 😮
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Oh, I forgot, beer is much more inspiring from bottles, especially the German ones with a ceramic stopper and rubber gasket you can take off and put around the base of a cigarette lighter (used to be Zippo, more lately Bic). That little wire lever thingy is fascinating at 0400.
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Damn. I want to take up drinking now. 😛
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Write drunk Edit sober … Or get canned
BTW: Ever write a column about how to ask for advice? How about how to take advice? Both sound like fun.
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I think it’d be more fun if I could just give advice. Never mind if I’m right or wrong. Just giving it and not having to live with the consequences would be grand. 😛
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you hooked me with that first line
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She has a way of doing that, Eric. 😛
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