Heartbeat
I used to wonder, and I still ask myself occasionally: is the heart an organ, or a muscle?
I've never been able to convince myself that science is right either way. An organ, yes: the steady beat, the movement of blood, the way it speaks to air and soul, the way we can't survive without one. An organ, surely?
But a muscle, too, in its strength, its ropey resilience, its flex.
Resting my head against your chest after that first small heart attack, listening to it stutter and pump, I wondered: organ or muscle?
Neither, both. Actually, it's a miracle.
Ooh, good. LOVED Ailleann's. Mine about birthdays refused to cram itself into anything near 100 words.
Neither, both. Actually, it's a miracle.
Perfect.
For those of you who ever daydreamed about writing jacket copy for books, be warned. You may be called upon to write copy for something called BIG SPANKABLE ASSES -- something that is emphatically *not* a slick porn mag, and will be sold, one presumes, on the shelves at Barnes & Noble and other fine booksellers. With your copy on the back.
::weeps::
Oh, poor AmyLiz.
not laughing not laughing.
Hey, it could be worse. Your name could be on it.
Go ahead, laugh. I will be, because I'm going to get very, very drunk to write this.
Your name could be on it.
Hush, you. Clearly, I'd only write that under a pseudonym!
Hey, it could be worse. Your name could be on it.
Even worse, your ass could be on it.
I want your job.
You might feel differently if you had to write copy for something called LORD OF THE SATYRS, in which said satyr lord actually had two penises. (One strictly for procreating!)
Or, you know, not.
