Welcome to Twosday with Two-Cents Simone.
I’m an artist. Words are my art.
That’s the first time I’ve said that publicly.
The essays I write are my lily pads. They clarify my thinking before I jump mediums from page to stage, podcast to performance.
Everything I wrote after “page” is forthcoming. One thing at a time.
My standards are high and getting higher. Essay seven is waaaay harder than essay one. What does that mean for essays eight, nine, and ten? I’m nervous and writing my way through it.
I stayed in a hotel Thursday night, which reminded me of how good a sparse space feels. I got home and got rid of forty-five items because I’m forty-five years old. I have too much stuff and so do you. I lost count at twenty, but I assure you I fulfilled my goal.
I’m lighter now.
Artists need light. You’re an artist.
Lighten up.
Two Cents to help and recommend to you.
Now you know about Suz Bax Art. You’re welcome. The darn holidays are coming. I’ll keep your shopping on-point.
I’ve watched roughly three series in my life: Breaking Bad, White Lotus, and Maid. Today’s recommendation is for Maid on Netflix. 10 episodes. Heartbreaking and warming.
On Zoom, be seen by others but hide from yourself. Click the three dots in your face frame, find “hide self-view,” and relax. You look fine. Ignorance is bliss.
Kanye West is now Ye. He asked me to pass that along.
Write It Right is a word lesson.
It’s all well and good until someone uses them incorrectly.
If you ask my kids how they slept last night, they’ll answer, “well.”
They said “good” for a very long time until I (gently) beat it out of them.
“NO, you did not sleep good, you slept well! You sound dumb and you’re not dumb.”
Trust me, you’ll sound smarter if you use well and good correctly.
Good modifies a person, place, or thing.
Well modifies an action.
Night, night.
Show and Tell gives you a peek into my week.
Horse spacing. I stumbled upon these giants while walking on Horse Hill. How beautifully spaced they are, without the help of humans.
I stumbled upon this handsome kid in my front yard. How beautifully space-out he is. I wonder if he has a mother.
I Say is from an essay I’ve written.
This is how it happened. I was sober-curious. I envied nondrinkers and wondered what was wrong with them. What were they thinking about? Were they human? How sad, I’d think. How cool, I’d think. This duality built until I drank too much one night—martini, martini, martini, barf—and I decided to find out the answer.
Monday, February 15, while my coffee brewed, I packed the contents of my bar into a large plastic bin. An hour later I texted Marisa who was out of town, “I put all my alcohol in your driveway. Do with it what you will. I don’t want it back. Also, I had to pee, so I left that in your driveway, too.
Read the full essay, Quitters Win.
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See You Next Twosday!
I like you.
I thought "Maid" was really well done.
You made me laugh. As usual! Great read. Thank you.