Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Medicine
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Today's thoughts are about shoes and how we wear them tight. Or too big. Sometimes not at all. But we sure don't like to put them on when challenged to walk a mile in somebody else's kicks. A few steps taken as someone "less" or "other than" is–let's be honest here–an affront to my everloving…
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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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ridges break airwaves. lifelines need to stretch, not snap. answer autumn's call.
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Pepper.Mixed with ink. Throughline – Commuter spills it. Signs.Used to confuse.
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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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digressive chatterdigestive splattermy display dripswith statusthat doesn'tmatter turn off the worry machine
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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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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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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…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 