Lubkish

Sitting in Moss Motors’s waiting area getting an oil change for the Santa Fe, because on Wednesday we’ll embark on a 4,000-mile round trip for an art show Karen’s in.

And since I’m “writing” on my phone — how I wish I could write everything in my Moleskine with my Parker fountain pen with blue ink, but then I’d lose my three readers — I’ve decided to succumb to the humanity of my already thick and middle-age thickening thumbs and from the next paragraph onward will not correct misspellings nor worry about grammar. Auto-correct and predictive writing, as we all know, can come up with wild interpretations of said misspellings.

Ya know, I shook hands with someone recently with much thicker thumbs. He even had a thicker hand, thicker neck and thicker forearms. I don’t know where I was going with that — other than to say that growing up in New York City doesn’t develop anything thick other than ones ability to schnoozr. That’s shmooze. I knew something would get misspelled and I’d have to clarify, because shnooze is something I wanted to. SME sure I clarified. All sorts of problems in this paragraph.

If you’re still reading, I must tell you that I am mot going to edit out anything in the previous paragraph, because I’m here to produce content for the blog and not worry so much about sounding good. In fact, I think the Provia laralgeal — that’s “previous paragraph” — proved nothing but that New York City residents are somehow thin-minded enough to pay too much attention to others’ thickness of body parts.

At this point I sound foolish and cringy even to myself but that’s ok this is about stream of consciousness. (Even if one doesn’t share one’s stream of consciousness.) But it’s not like I’m doing — going — to share a dream with you that, with stream of consciousness, would take me all oil change to explain and into overhaul of my car.

I’m really doubting whether to hit publish on this piece. It royally sucks — that almost autocorrected into something else but somehow corrected Lk on its — on its own — to ensure that I criticized myself. “Criticized” of course came up as predictive text.

Last time I was here it was with the Ford truck, which had a problem with the master cylinder. Or the master cylinder had a problem with something else. All I know is that the words “master cylinder” appeared in the paperwork with the total due, and it reminded me that in need to learn to correct certain automotive problems on my own.

If I did that, though, I might have less time to paddleboard or drive to Daily Donut.

I think that last paragraph was a lame attempt at humor but I’m going to leave it. I made a promise to you earlier than I wouldn’t correct the spelling of words, and with that goes the concomitant promise to you od allowing myself to look both foolish and immature. And random. And bored.

Which I am.

Typically, I’d try to work on my laptop while waiting, but Miss is always quick — I hope you know that that M word was misspelled from the name of the company to this; does society really say “Miss” so and so anymore? I kind of thought that was taboo. Has woke culture disallowed “miss”? If I meet a single woman, should I not say “Hello, Miss ___”? But I’d she really — *is* she really — single or is relationship status now always define by Facebook — “it’s complicated” — and is this single woman a woman in truth or is she really a non-binary entity. Should I instead not say “Miss” anything and instead use the greeting, “Good morning, You Complicated Non-Binary Entity”?

I actually did correct that last sentence’s spelling mistakes because I wanted to get one correctly spelled snark into this post.

And now, Dear Reader, I must choose to hit “Publish” or “Draft” or “Delete.”

The latter would be a waste of my time just now.

The middle option would be just that: middle; a half-measure.

The first — to “Lubkish” — Lubkishes are rare and predatory creatures lurking in the Wisconsin woodlands — seems appropriate because then my time here would have been productive.

If you’re STILL reading, I applaud you.

May you never get haunted by any Lubkish.

PUBKISH

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