It seems we’re seeing a new writing phenomenon emerging.

People are going down the self-publish route and selling their thoughts through the internet.

This is where you’re expecting me to announce that I too have put together a little something-something, that you can now buy for $20-plus postage and handling, and I’ll even sign it for you.

And this is where I remind you that HaHaHa, are you frickin crazy, I am wayyyy to lazy to get off my ass and, like, do stuff.

OK. It is on my list of things to do before I die. But it is most probable that someone will discover that list after I have died and it will still be unchecked. Along with “Buy bullet-proof vest” and “Don’t piss off the terrorists”.

But I can offer you the next best thing to a literary D-light: Golfwidow.

This blogger is the reason I’m even here in the first place. She also designed this web page.

She’s one of the wittiest people I’ve never met.
Just check out any random D-Man post and you’ll find her accompanying comments are some of the cleverest shit you’ll ever find left in a burning paper bag on your front doorstep.

And so often I find we’re so eerily on the same wavelength with our musings, that it’s almost like we’re twins, or something.
(Apparently, I’m the younger one that was slightly starved of oxygen at birth.)

For example, she’s always going on about hating golf. And I’m always going on about hating Eskimos. And everyone knows that an Eskimo with a golf club is about as useful as an Eskimo with a golf club. But it is useful if an Eskimo is carrying a golf club, because then you can easily wrestle it away and beat them to death with it.

See.

Anyway, she’s now gone and unmasked herself by writing a book: Getting My Think On.

It’s essentially a Best Of collection of the best bits of brain confetti from her most excellent Golf Widow’s Ministry of Silly Walks site.

She’s got a lot of greatness to draw on, having been blogging since early 2001.

That’s back before computers were even invented!

In those days you wrote your journal on a typewriter and then faxed the results through to a ship merchant’s shop, where they’d then clip the pages onto a fishing net that they had hanging on the wall.

My favourite bits are the bits where she bashes her husband. He puts the golf in Golf Widow. But he forgets to put food back in the pantry. And for godsake, don’t send him out to buy bed linen. He’s like an Eskimo with a golf handicap.

“Okay, let’s face facts. My husband is the main reason I need a cigarette.”

But she loves him, really. He’s a goldmine of great anecdotes.

The book is also packed with toilet seat battles, amusing musings, blasphemous thoughts, sentimental journeys, getting sentimental about Journey, and witty short story pieces.

“I haven’t got a single idea that lends itself to a full-length, cohesive, interesting story. What I have is a lot of false starts, a lot of ideas that got developed faster and more skilfully by accomplished authors, and a whole bunch of really short burbles of thought. These small particles of nonknowledge burst from my thoughts and onto the page in a format I refer to as “brain confetti.” Basically, brain confetti is kind of like brain shrapnel, but less painful.”

I was a little disappointed, however, to not see what I consider to be one of the finest poems of our time included in her book. So to make up for that omission, I shall now reprint it here:

i know
pandas
are wild
& they have
sharp teeth
& claws
which they
would use
on me
in a heartbeat
but still
everytime
i see a panda
i want a
hug

Mark my words, scholars will pour over the meanings of that one long after you, me and Bob Dylan are dead.

She also has a podcast. How’s that for multitalenttasking?

You can order the book from here.

Now go buy it.