Forget everything that came before. It’s July First and I’d like to make a public announcement: two things matter in the month of July. 1. Crows. 2. my novel. If my feature on crows isn’t done by the end of the month, I go hungry in August. If I don’t finish my novel by the end of the month, I hang myself from the rafters. You care a lot. You heard it here first and you care a lot about what you just heard.
It’s summer, and what could be better than that. Last night I slept in a tent in the backyard in Montana. There was a rock under my head and I still had a good time. There have been dogs in my past and I see more dogs in my future. Pretty soon the river will be warm enough to float on.
Fucking money. Oh my god. Whatever. I might need to get a job. I applied for a job as a “swamper” at a bar this week. What a cool name for a job. It’s not someone who wades in swamp water up to their waist, as the immediate thought association would suggest. It’s just another name for a janitor. You know how I feel about the custodial arts. If you don’t, here’s my position: I am for them.
Here’s something. In a novel or a story, sometimes an upper middle class character will suffer some life change, some unexpected turn of events that will leave them broken and ready to start over. They’ll wander into a place of business and say, “I need a job,” or not even that. Sometimes the owner will just hand them a broom. I think this is how rich people who also write books think the world works. Well. It fucking doesn’t work that way. You fill out an application and then you wait.
I have a masters degree and I still had to give a resume, talk about how good I am at cleaning things and still will wait back to hear if I beat out the other 5 contestants for the job. I hope I get it! I’d rather be a swamper than a copywriter.
Some things about crows: Holy lord, they’re everywhere. They drop nuts in the street, wait for cars to crack the nuts and then eat them. They go sledding on cardboard, for fun. When was the last time you saw crow roadkill? They are too smart to get hit by a car. When you die, your soul doesn’t come back as a crow. The Crow is not a good film.
And there’s more where that came from!
About mollylaich.com: I’m going to try to update more regularly in the month of July and I’m hoping for a site redesign really soon. You care a lot!