Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Lessons
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Yeah.Love him/hate him.Hype: The Song of Life.Blame fame.Shame bleeds on white sheets.
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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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[monsters hold down jobs] Some days you feel these steps have been laid out for you and you're slowly catching up with a predetermined outcome. [dawn is a hollow promise] I dare you to take a wrong turn. Just can't happen. Walk…run…[a shot in the dark] Makes no difference at all. You'll get there in…
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Community is good for kvetching but it's no place to get work done. Who wants to watch you become unhinged? Soil yourself? It's just an uncomfortable situation all around when you toss your entrails on the rocks to figure out where your story should go. That is magic best kept behind the red velvet curtain,…
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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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Prose riddled with holes.Janie's dots never connect.Whimsy goes so far.
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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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Busy, busy bee. Mother of all industry. If it's true we write what we know, best to know as much as possible. One needs something quote worthy to say when one's work is called "a shabbily disguised conversion story." Either own the act of disciple-making, or close up shop. People say they prefer the truth,…
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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…
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The third act fell flat.Damn that lazy dream sequence!Sequins hide loose ends.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 