normal, or so it seems

This is a freewrite broken by actual events.
Trying to write when my children are awake is near impossible, but it's nice, in a sadistic sort of way.
i'm going to work on this for a while i think i like it.


"Get out of the bathroom and let your brother take a bath!"

"Don't hit your sister with that! What is that anyway?"
"i don't know. i found it in my closet."
"well, ....don't hit your sister with it."

I was 39 years old, yesterday.
I have spent the last 20-something years rotating between excuses in order to avoid writing. There are many natural distractions, but the fact is, i'm not very good at it and i realized long ago
that i'm never going to make a living doing what i love.

Waves of bookish women, moist and flexible are not going to build a commune in the yard,
chanting my favorite passages from old stories while flogging each other with glow-in-the-dark french ticklers. Wearing only panties.

Sigh.

"What are you doing?"
"What's that smile for?"
Where is your brother?"

I reread some of my old stuff every few years and some of them i throw away
(i'm never going to finish them, or i don't want it in the house anymore, or, more often than not, they aren't very good.)

i have no idea how to use proper puctuation.
Not sure if i spelled puntuation correctly.
Never use the word puntuation when i can use "grammer" instead.

keep it simple.

"Hey!" "What are you doing!"
"STOP!"
"Well, he started it-by-putting glue-in my-pants."

(i'm sitting at my desk in the kitchen, observing the chaos with my hands laced together on the top of my head with both thumbs turned skyward and an expression on my face that can only be described as incredulous disbelievement, sprinkled with joy.)

"What?!"
"Guys! Come in here a moment, please."
"Did that, ...come out of your body?"
"no."
"Did That, come out of your body?
"dad, you know it didn't."
"Then why is it in the toilet?
"i don't know."
"can we go now?"