Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Protection
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Yea, for the unreasonable season be upon us, and emotions are squishy and raw. Deal with the feels if you must. But for the sake of propriety (sobriety, piety) please don't go losing your everloving mind during this Neptunian grope fest.
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In your solitude, create art. Virginia would want you to. There is no such thing as loneliness. Rub away the charcoal line until the jawbone is softened. With eraser, swipe at age spots that give up the great lie. Smooth as a baby's argument; clear as the conscience of a nun. Creases are a way…
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Dudes are getting in trouble for being dudes. The rest of us are scrambling to fill the positions from which said dudes (Tastemakers!) get ousted. What will the world look like when power is shifted? We are still humans, after all. Can I raise my hemline and my vibration at the same time without inciting…
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Pitchforks grasped within sweaty fists. Fair and balanced they are not, but the Tastemakers set the pace and throw shit like nobody's business. Drop and roll and duck and cover. Misery is today's Blue Plate Special. Hatred is an acquired taste. Acceptance, evidently, requires a blood test. Have willpower, Patience! You'll never be the right…
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To My Tin Ear Troubadour, O.k. then, pitch your tent. While you're at it, be sure to sew up the rents in the fabric of your argument. That's the best way to lure the lucky into your lair. 1.) Who are these lucky allowed entrance?2.) What do they become when you let them leave? And…
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The light is diffused where you sit; off days spent pondering a smoky room. Why aren't you running out of the building, screaming FIRE! FIRE!? If it weren't for the Dead End advice Leoni gave me, I'd have believed all this time you were the Zeitgeist Master. What a disaster that would've been. I'm sick of…
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Misty sees you wandering the halls. It is not easy for you as flesh is pressed in uncomely ways. Always rubbed the wrong way; trousers are a bitch with which you must compromise. Your body longs to wrap itself in a tupenu. But you are seen through the lens of love. Your body of work…
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I wear above-the-knee skirts for those who can't. Stay in my lane? Ha! We don't need no stinkin' lanes. But every so often a cattle chute is useful. Hey, baby. Your authenticity is showing.
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2017 seemed like a good idea. Resolutions you won't find me mucking about with, but here are a few thoughts as we try another year on for size: * Be kind to your favorite unreliable narrator. * Keep the O's. Toss the X's. * All the iterations of Porkins go down in a fiery ball.…
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the city sneaks up behind youtells you what to think your friends are all scholarsreason why you drown in drink thoughts not good enoughto protect or entertain more than a thunderheadyou are the rain now it's too late to whitewash the wallyou should've lived your rough draftthat was the point of it after all such…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 