I wish I could stop thinking about Channing Tatum I wish I could stop thinking about his strong arms around my body I wish I could stop thinking about Jared Leto I wish I could stop imagining him Behind me in bed Next to me as I write, hand on my knee I wish I… Continue reading Channing Tatum is not you
I want to write more about love But I realise I don't know what love is
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
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
I am currently walking up and down my hallway. I'm not pacing, exactly... As part of my life-upcycling that is in progress, I'm trying to get fit again. It is too hot to walk outside and I have no one to look after the kids. I don't have the money to join a gym and… Continue reading Life-upcycling
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.
where are the fandom parties at? I will be about 3 years late.
The thing about hitting rock bottom is that you never really know when you are there until you start to build up from it. Or until you are away from it. You can assume that "it couldn't get any worse," but these words are often folly and should be treated in the same way as "Lord Voldemort," (For the muggles - don't fucking say it out loud)