Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Beauty
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And like o.k.: There's this particular writer whose work I've read and enjoyed and whom I find interesting and irritating all in one big, messy mouthful of come-one-come-all (talkin' bout chyoo JD). Yeah so, brutha man goes on about fat folks in his stories and he himself is pretty thin (cute, though – I'm shallow,…
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I know you didn't think much of her when we brought her home, but Lily's still looking for you. In the closet. She's in there right now because a big, bad thunderstorm rolled through here a few minutes ago. She hates them now, just like you did. Funny how she never minded the wind and…
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Miss Ruby Kew wishes to thank the Ministry of Reality for her recent appointment as Special Spokesmodel to the General Citizenry for Bitter Fruit. Miss Kew recognizes how important this post is, and promises to uphold the Ministry's mission to inject a little bit of the unappealing into our busy, saccharine-rich lives. Pucker Up and…
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Just when I say I'll get a new lens to look through (in the hopes of seeing something new) a bird (a big one with a 6-foot wingspan) swoops out of nowhere (o.k. – swoops down from the snag I walk by every a.m.) and squawks in my face: "It's like this, little chicken;…
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I prefer my music rough around the edges. When it comes to books, though? Ya shit better be tight. Mind your craft, mate. Clunky prose hurts my ear nubs, don't you know? And please, please adhere to the rules you've set up for your world. I can suspend my disbelief for days; no need to…
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So here's what I wanted to tell you the other day in Piggly Wiggly => => More people need to make art for medicinal purposes. Cheap therapy! But does that art always have to be labeled with a $9.99 sticker and set out on the shelves? Ask yourself: Would someone who does not live inside…
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It's hot today, but you always did like a good soak in the sun. It's been a year since I was able to scratch your chin and tell you it was too early for supper. We can feel you roam about the house, taking head count as you move from room to room so no…
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Lula drowned in the summer sun. Her features faded under golden molten rays of light. Her brain turned into sticky sweet tar. Lula's power to project an essence of innocence melted like fat off her bones and splish-splattered down the storm drain. Lula stood exposed, worse than naked even. Her fanbase saw for the very…
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This just in: This just is. Time, breath, pain, bliss. We're all in it. Minute-to-minute. Possessions are a blight. We chase after filler and fluff and can't keep up. Little of what I have can be called my own, so just let go. Three cheers–one wish–follow at your own risk.
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For those following along, My Five Star Heart goes to the work that is fiercely authentic. I like it when My Own Private Icky Button is pushed by bloodlust and love's grotesqueries. Poetry that comes in great gushes and not dribbles. Make your piece so ugly it's pretty by sheer effort. Make me queasy and…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 