OH - MY - GOD -

I have embarrassed myself, tremendously. Let's start over. I am not a good writer.

"I WAS TOLD THERE'D BE CAKE" by Sloane Crosley, a collection of essays, is tremendous. The serious author, Crosley, had my eyes glued to her words. She shaped these words into an intelligble and wistful combination of stories and it made me laugh out loud, to myself, all night. I never laugh out loud to myself and I've only stayed up the entire night, maybe, three times in my adult life. To read this marveled literature, all night, is a treat. This is because my physical body is pulling through a sudden Xanax (doctor prescribed) withdrawl (not doctor prescribed) combination of a brand new (doctor prescribed) mood altering medication, since the bottle (makes sense to me), from which I'm free, no longer holds me captive. This withdrawl/manic medication physical body dance, feels uncomfortable; I'm uber awake.

Yes, it's a sheer miracle the day I picked up this paperback at the going out of business Border's. This is also a New York Times Bestseller. By the way, always trust a New York Times Bestseller. Now. Now I know what good writing is.

Please can we create a fresh start? Part of what makes Crosley a fabulous storytelller is her recollection of events, as she grew up. My growth stunted at age 18 because I recklessly got my physical body involved in an 18 day coma which forced me to start over; it erased my memory like a recently Windexed window pane. After twenty years of re doing myself, my innate determination didn't bend. But what am I re making myself as? I'll never be as good as her; it's a truth I have to get used to.

She's about fifteen years younger than I am. I can't even say I'm jealous; I'm not in her league. Now I know.

My vast collection of sisters and brothers are Lucky. And I have no idea how I hold, in my left and right hand, an abundance of optimism. It's only half time of this life time. Thank God.

I'm a Lucky Cull.