Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Love
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blip says: don't feel like it's a slap in the face. it's nothing but a donut in the hole. if betsy needs to come back to earth pretend you're unaware the air is so thin up there. no one cares for know-it-alls. fading star power left a churning, swirling whirligig in its wake that ate…
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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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Mae's walls closed in on her, Fred, the shelves filled with dusty tchotchke. Golden age turned lovers and objects into death traps. She needed to speak. It'd been years since Mae had anything to say. She'd long ago hung her heart on the wall in a nice Certificate of Achievement-sized frame. It had the most…
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Mama had the megrims and Lettie was left to herself again. She sat on her bed, tracing the outlines of the bright yellow smiley face flowers stamped on her bedspread before turning her attention to the fresh outbreak of poison oak on the backs of her knees. Hot, itchy-scratchy pain and with no more ointment…
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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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do that artificial thing you doruffle blue feathers and count white liesand then call it the story that wrote itselfyellow heads bend backwards to look you in the eyesthis is a dizzy way to live and leaves us sicksome desperate kind of love
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Extra words turned into special sections that told Lenore what she was reading was true. What's more, the e-reader she held in her hands was her lifeline (her tightrope) between fussy babies and dirty nappies, and the version of herself she left behind in English 102. But back to those extra words that played hide-and-seek…
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Not disheartening: 1. Together we are alone.2. Apart we have grown.3. The future unknown. An outline never followed, this impasse saves us. What is reality when our memories are shaped by present-day preferences?
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Sure Corrie felt shitty reading her big sister's diary. Did feeling like a degenerate make Corrie put away what wasn't hers and go do something productive like laundry? Hell no. All of the people Shelley wrote about in her big red book were thinly disguised real folk, like too-close-to-home-folk. Like who could this bitchy character…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 