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Audrey Semprun, 16 Jul '14

Hot Grapes; Whoever coined the phrase, ‘sour grapes’? Some grapes are sour, it’s a fact. Some grapes are plump and juicy and sweet and yummy. But don’t let those same grapes hang out in a hot car for a good part of the afternoon. Hot grapes. Ain’t nothing like them! Bleh.

It’s like going to the library and listening to a gal that you published. “Oh, shucks she says. I couldn’t have done it without her…” True that. She couldn’t have. She did a good job. Only thing is, listening sparked such a desire to share. But nobody’s asking. I just said, “You did it.” Better than the last outing with her other special reading. That day she lauded praise on the online web site that I had used to publish her book and introduced me as her friend. Nice one.

Ran my car off the road into a bridge. Not really. Didn’t have a flat or nothing. I am low on gas. Does that count?

I’ve been shutting myself off from everyone. Not been writing. Not been emailing. Slim on Social Networking. No Instagrams. No phone calls. No visiting. Working though. Like a mad man. Rolling up those sleeves and doing whatever it takes to get the job done.

Got a little snit at work. She’s snubbing me. Do I care? I guess she didn’t get the memo. This gal is not available, so it really doesn’t matter. Just don’t dis-respect me or I’ll tattle. It’s not that I care mind you. It’s the principle of the thing. She does not have my permission to expect me to put up with being in a hostile environment.

Lady greets me at the door. "Oh," she says. "I thought you were younger." Who says that? Then she goes on to add that I remind her of someone that she must be mistaken about...

Wonder if I could get some cheese with my whine? When did I ever get so cynical?

I’d like to finish the final edit on a book of short stories that I wrote. Only problem is, I don’t feel like buying another hard copy. Those wonderful online publishing sites are infamous for over-charging the poor hopeful writer to have a hard copy of their hard work… I loaned a copy of it to a friend. She doesn’t remember a lot of things these days. It’s a medical condition. Only knows that she remembers me when she sees my book sitting on her display shelf. It makes her smile. It makes me smile too. Then the other copy that I had bought. That one has lived with a gal for over a year now. I loaned it out to her to get her opinion of the writing as she is an English student. She must either really like the book and can’t part with it, or she just couldn’t care less about it and can’t manage to finish it. Either way, she can’t seem to return it.

Guess I’ll buy my book again. Maybe when it comes it will inspire me to do that final edit. Maybe.