lesoir

Today's visual aid is brought to you by the fact that I trimmed my own bangs again. This is a job that, if left to professionals, typically turns out okay. But I have neither the financial resources nor the wherewithall to go see Esmerelda every 2 weeks when my bangs start to snag on my eyelashes. So I googled "trim your own bangs" and I learned how to twist my bangs into a clump and snip off the end. I didn't do too badly this time, but as straight as my hair is, one false move and I suddenly appear to have a horrific skin condition.

I've been asked by one of my millions of adoring fans if what I write here on the Lesblog constitutes memoir or fiction. I contend that in the post-James Frey-world, there is little difference. As you know, I prefer to think of the contents of The Lesblog as Lesoir (not to be confused with the French "le soir" or, in English, "the soir")

And while I realize that Lesoir is comparable to memoir and that memoir ought to be based, primarily, on memory, I don't feel the obligation to tell the truth. So you can think of Lesoir as outright fabrication if it makes you feel better.

I would like to comment, in the interest of full disclosure, that there is an imposter Les Blog out there that should, under no circumstances, be confused with THE Lesblog.

Today's banjo update: I have begun to learn a few new songs on the guitar. Same old chords, though, so I'm not sure that really counts (I'm avoiding learning to play the F chord). I still do not have a banjo so no matter how much work I do on the guitar, I'm still not learning to play the banjo. You, dear reader, should count yourself fortunate that you do not suffer the agony of the tortured artist.