So... I found this thing on my computer. It was dated 02/02/2013. It's.. err... It's something. I haven't edited it cause I wanted you guys to feel the full effect of my five-years-ago awesomeness.
I browsed through my notebooks this afternoon, hair still wet from the pool. I wanted to post a poem I had written. *shakes head Sensible Amberley tells me, sternly and without wiggle room, "No." I look for it anyway. Found it and read through the poem. I have read it so many times. There are… Continue reading Not today
I was talking to one of my friends this morning about how to get back into the swing of things. She asked me how I got my groove back after I escaped Rock Bottom. And it took a while, but, in the end what has helped me is blogging and abstract art. Quite often when… Continue reading Thoughts on how abstract art can help you
The cicadas are loud today Singing their merry creed to the summer heat Like lovers Summer and cicada Star crossed and long distance They use the only words they know how Trrrrrp trrrrrp trrrp the cicadas sing The summer heats up A southerly breeze blows And the cicadas sing The breeze coaxes leaves from the… Continue reading Summer shade
I miss the way you look when you are staring at something you love The awe in your eyes The gentle curve of an alomst-smile on your lips Your brow smooth, worryless. Me: Sally You: Jack I miss your gentle touch The way you gather me up in your arms... Me: a dandelion seed You:… Continue reading Yet…
I cannot decide which novel to concentrate on. I literally write a paragraph of one then change my mind and switch. Please, cyberfam, advise me on which novel I should put my efforts into. Epic fantasy series, dark, piratey, demi-gods and goddesses, strange portals that cross over to our world, backstabbing, people getting stabbed in… Continue reading I need your help/advice
As I return to my pour table this week after our many travels, I have found myself asking myself "but what does this piece say?" My art normally says nothing unless my medium is words, because I choose not to use living subjects. But this is of course not what I fucking mean, is it? What I mean is "what am I trying to say?"
I am tired
The books I've read have always explained blood as smelling "coppery" or "metallic." They're not wrong, but they're not right either. Yes. I could detect that old-penny tang in the air, but there were other things too. They never mention the rot of it. The butcher shop meatiness. The piss and shit part that will undoubtedly be there. Because if there is so much blood you can smell it, then someone is either dead or about to be. A bandaid would no longer help them. Blood doesn't just smell like loose change. I should know. I was covered in it.
She jumped into the passenger seat, never looking away from his dark eyes. She might have to keep them. She had a jar that would suit them perfectly.