I Haven’t Showered For A Week Because My Dedication Knows No Bounds

(Yeah, that’s right.  I’m being honest.  Gross, but honest.  Because the truth will set you free.  Free from hygiene and other human beings, perhaps.  Yet sometimes we must get ugly to create something beautiful.)

I gotta say, though, chilling in my own filth isn’t too bad.  It gives me an excuse not to run errands or hang out with my friends and Alessandro hasn’t bothered me for sex while I’m trying to write.  Also, I don’t even smell.  You’re probably thinking, “Yeah right, Alanna.  You probably stink like shit but can’t smell yourself because you’re gross and noseblind.”  But then again….. Idgaf.

it's always sunny the gang broke dee tumblr
yolo.

The reason I haven’t showered (in case you were wondering) is that I’ve been busy with very important things like banging my head against available walls until words come out, reading a part of my novel in front of other human beings (!), and attempting (unsuccessfully) to take videos of cats having sex outside at night.

(“Kitty Porn”, perhaps.  But the videos are just of blackness and me drunk and laughing in the background which is probably for the best.)

In other news, I had to actually read the words that I wrote out loud and IN FRONT OF ACTUAL PEOPLE.  I opened for Jon Sealy, author of The Whiskey Baron, at my college last month.  In a huge auditorium with about 30 billion people.  (Or like 30.  I’m not Rain Man, with all the counting and stuff.  I was just trying not to throw up.)

I don’t have many pictures, but here’s one I can share with you.  It’s a screenshot from a video my mom took with her phone that neither of us can figure out how to move onto a computer or even Facebook.

Alanna Reading 1
I’m wearing all black because I assumed it’d be a “90’s coffee shop” setting with a guy playing bongos and berets as far as the eye can see.

My piece was incredibly dark and personal because I didn’t know the protocol for reading in public and had no idea so many people would be there (including other students who got front row seats to my crazy).  In the video, you can hear my mom gasping when I swear or say terrible things about self-harm or alcoholism, which is funny but also quite upsetting, and my voice is ridiculous.

They need to develop the technology to make you sound like Patrick Stewart ASAP.  (Meanwhile, NASA is having Scott Kelly take instagram pics of space.  Priorities, people…)


Speaking of priorities and instagram, here is the latest installment of The Chronicles of Diane Kitten.  Truly, there is nothing she can’t do.

Diane Kitten Books Instagram
So well-read and freshly-bathed.  An inspiration to all.

Apologies for the nonsense post, I wrote this at like 3am and am in desperate need of a shower.  Goodbye for now, amigos!  Have a fantastic day and may all your books be wonderful!!!

Feel free to tell a story about the longest you’ve gone without bathing or what you’re reading at the moment.  Perhaps your feelings on gun control or Patrick Stewart?  I wanna hear it alllllllll… <3

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So… The Ghosts In My Attic Are Back Again. Much Like Impending Stress And Some Inevitable Doom.

(School has begun once again. Somebody kill me now, I’m too old to be dealing with this.)

I should have graduated in May but I’m lazy and “completely lacking of any self-discipline” according to my parents. And some other people. However, I disagree. I think the simple fact that I’m able to shower and dress myself most days puts me ahead of the game.

(Okay, not “most days“. More like “sometimes“. I’m still gonna call that a win.)

Also, I’m in the planner again this year but it’s the same picture as last time (refer to this post). My one friend is on the cover somehow being photographed taking a selfie, which confused me greatly until Alessandro explained that someone else was taking the picture. (I truly don’t know how I’ve even made it this far in school.)

My friend is the fox in the green tee shirt.
My friend is the fox in the green tee shirt. (I just realized it kinda looks like he’s flipping you off.)

Also, the ghosts in my attic have returned and for some reason want the lights on all the time even when I try to explain that they’re making my electric bill unhappy. Plus, there’s only a finite amount of light bulbs in the world but they don’t care. I assume they’re up all night reading the mass collection of books I had to buy for my writing course.

(At least they’re well-read ghosts. Maybe they call over the other ghosts in the neighborhood for a ghostly book club?)

ghost reading

While they’re discussing literature, I’ll be creating it, 24/7 for the next few months. I have to complete 40,000 words of my book every month (and hopefully soon figure out a plotline). I’m terrible at climactic events and twists, so if anyone has any ideas, please let me know. I’ll totally credit you.

If I don’t write for a while, don’t be mad at me. I might be dead from stress but at least I can hang out with the avid readers in my attic.

Sylvia Plath Is A Buzz-Kill

(Also, I’m losing my mind. Somebody get me a cocktail or I might take a bunch of pills and hide in a hole in my basement. Because apparently that’s what great literature is all about.)

I recently finished The Bell Jar and although it’s an awesome book, you probably shouldn’t read it if you’re emotionally unstable. Nobody told me this so I’m telling you all.

I think I’m going crazy.

Granted, I’ve been there before, but I was totally handling my shit and feeling fine. Now I’m too scared to leave my apartment and paranoid about the government watching our every move.

(Klonopin can only go so far.)

So thanks a bunch, Sylvia. You’ve made me question my sanity and increase my vodka consumption. I hope you’re happy.

(NOTE: Ovens are for cookies and chicken breasts, not human heads. Just in case anyone was wondering.)

I HAVE NEWS AND VODKA. Come Over For A Drink And Some Knowledge Bombs.

(‘Cause my life is blowing up. Much like [insert innapropriate reference here]. There’s really no joking about bombs. Unless they include Jäger. Which supposedly means “hunter” in German. Ergo, comedy + bombs = NEIN!!)

(Also, comedy + Germany = nahh. No offense, Germany. You just have yet to make people laugh.)

Anyways, I saw a tiny alligator today. That’s not my news but I feel like it should be mentioned.

Isn't she cute? Also, she goes well with my neighbor's camo shorts so she's fashionable as far as alligators go. I'm assuming, of course. I don't know how they dress.
Isn’t she cute? Also, she goes well with my neighbor’s camo shorts so she’s fashionable as far as alligators go. I’m assuming, of course. I don’t know how they dress.

But my news is totally non-gator-related. It’s actually pretty awesome and possibly unreal. Perhaps even irrational. (Maybe if an alligator bites me, I’ll wake up and realize it was all a dream like how last night I dreamt LeSean McCoy pooped on my shoes. Which is a story for another time.)

My big news is that I’m working with one of my professors to write a novel.

GAHHHH!!

I’m sorry, I’m just stoked.

Also, she’s badass and a published author of amazing stories so you should all check her out and buy her book because it is totally worth it. I’m not just saying that either. It’s fantastic and also award-winning.

Seriously, though. Buy it. (Or else.) (Sike, not "Or else". But maybe. You never know...)
Seriously, though. Buy it. (Or else.) (Sike, not “Or else”. But maybe. You never know…)

So that’s why I probably won’t be writing much on here in the next few months. My book is gonna be about some serious stuff like mental illness and institutionalization and the like, but no worries folks; I’m only here to make you laugh. But in secret, I do have another side. It’s dark and crazy and a little bit sick. Maybe you’ll like it, though. So wish me luck and hope I get published.

If I make it as a writer, everybody’s getting a boat.

So, ya know… send good vibes. You might just get a boat.

(And who doesn’t love a nice boat?)

No one, that’s who.

Here’s a great song from one of the best Rolling Stones’ albums ever. Enjoy.