As you probably have noticed, I've been participating in the Scintilla Project, a wonderful exercise in community storytelling run by Kim, Dominique, and Onyi. It's been a wonderful journey, sharing tales I've told a thousand times and stories I've never told anyone. And probably in the next couple of days, as I buckle down and read more of the participants' blogs, I'll share with you guys some of my personal highlights. There is, not surprisingly, a shitload of talented writers out there who are worth a scan when you've got the chance.
That being said, I'm officially sick of telling stories. Don't get me wrong; I loved every second of it. Pulling out all the old tools, polishing my phrasing, flexing my vocabulary - it's what I imagine exercising after a long period of time off is like. I say 'imagine' because every time I try to exercise, I wind up just cooking chicken in bacon fat instead. It's how I roll. But like that first time exercising, you wake up the next morning sore as fuck and swear up and down you'll never make that mistake again.
So I'll be a little storytelling sore for a bit. Don't worry, I'll come back to it in good time. But there's good eating out there and exciting things happening, and I'd be remiss if I didn't take the time to talk about them. Or, for that matter, ball jokes.
So cheers, guys. Ladies, congratulations on an incredible project with magnificent results. Already looking forward to Scintilla '14. And with BiSC around the corner, it'll be wonderful to put faces and dance moves to the words I've been reading.
In the meantime...
Balls.
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