December 08, 2015
If you're waiting for my next book club suggestion (or suggestions, so we can choose democratically), know that I'm still making my lists. (And, yes, checking them thrice.) Tuesdays do still feel like Chaucer to me, so I'm a bit at loose ends here. (When I prefer—as you know—to be all tied up.)
So I thought I'd use this Tuesday to show off the first photo I've received so far in my collections series. I tossed out the theme of my books and your obsessions. (I mean, collections.) And this is David's vinyl with two of my (nearly vintage) titles dancing in front.
And holy fuck. I am in awe and in love.
I have used "twisted" in titles at least three times: Tiffany Twisted, Tied Up & Twisted, and just plain Twisted. This must say something about my twisted mind.
The word appears in 915 of my stories. (Oh, man. I am so going to need a new word!)
Please send your pictures with my titles to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com. (You must be 18 or over to submit to me. And other boring words here.)
In other David & musical news, I dreamed I met David Bowie the other night. I was so elated. I have been a fan for more years than you can count on fingers and toes unless you include other people's fingers and toes. (And so yes, I've described a strange orgy.) I used to wear random rhinestone pins on a football-style jacket as a visual representation (somehow) of Diamond Dogs. But when I got close to Bowie—and I was thinking, "Oh, my god. It's Bowie! It's really Bowie!"—it turned out to be an impersonator.
Seriously. My subconscious dream-psyche saw fit to hire a Bowie impersonator. Without a doubt, I have the strangest dreams.