Previously… Finding one's tribe is more important than wishing on a star for the other half of one's soul to flutter on down to terra firma. Or, as Ort wrote in his 70-sheet yellow Norcom this morning: For Darla (but I won't say anything yet because she's really fragile right now – save for later)…

Previously… So how does Darla describe the way Ort smells? Well, he ain't a cologne guy. What wafts from the man's pores is (to Darla, anyway) an irresistible elixir of curry and chlorine. Burning tires and Mentholatum. The penny Darla picked up in the parking lot of the Prairie View Drive-In Swap Meet, and book…

Previously… two wholes, ort. Tap the vein. the waiting-for-my-better-other-half is poisoned thinking! i don't want you to need me. Do you feel the pull? how this bond is supposed to work is you seek out my companionship because you like me. Family of origin. not because i can do something for you. the issue here…

Previously… Darla riffs on what Love is and isn't: First off, anything covered in hearts is a Top Seller down at the old Prairie View Drive-In Swap Meet. Love – a favorite topic, for sure. Love is a messy mix of hormonal teenage angst (ah, the rush of that first crush!) and hating the other…

Previously…   Darla would like to take this opportunity to strip down her message. She doesn't have time this week to get too wordy since she's elbow deep in a new project that requires many used dryer sheets, so here goes:   I don't want anyone to foot the bill for my nasty habits and…

Previously…   I AM A FAKEI AM A FRAUD   Here I am. I make shit for a living and I despise craft. Crochet hooks, floss, decoupage lack nature's rough and tumble; no vagabond rhythm at all. But I have no control over my twitchy fingers. I just can't walk away from discarded things. (Ah,…

Previously… Darla's got ascension symptoms bad. Kind of like PMS plus heart palpitations, double vision, and frequent urination. Tinnitus, too, makes it hard for Darla to understand soft talker Ort anymore, no matter how close to her he stands. However (and Darla considers this symptom a boon), Darla now hears Ort rumbling about in the…

Previously…   Darla knows what it's like to sideswipe, ricochet, merge and burn into an oncoming soul. Darla's got the scars to prove it. Worse yet, Darla's attempts to tell her story to the white coat right in front of her is a waste of time. Nobody's there. Thank the gods she's got Art to…

Previously… Darla embraces trash but she cannot accept dirt. She says what she says with stickers but fuck all if she's got a word for what she's feeling. Always, always she's checking those little green boxes. Grow, she's told by the quivering silvery stars, but do nothing as love dies. A stellar prognostication! So she…

Previously… Here, give me your hand. The one that's still got all its fingers. rifles through milk crate-places object in man's unmangled hand-man looks at it-brow wrinkles-recognition eventually switches the lamp on behind his eyes It's a clover. For luck, I say. By the way…how's that book of yours coming along? Workin' on it, the…