Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Reality
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I am a visitor here. When will the walls start to talk? Lines must be down; a widespread outage. No wonder the stars are burning at 30%. With so little light to go by, the question remains: Will I grow feet or wings, and where would those things take me? I see the pit, the…
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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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You need to spend a lot of alone time to figure shit out. Like, for example, is anything random? If you could hover above a topographical map of where you've been (and where you haven't been) because of decisions made, you'd see little black ants fanning out toward all sorts of possibilities. In that sprawling,…
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Under what moon does Mini's witchery reveal itself? She can't balance her checkbook or change a light bulb under cover of daylight, so when does the trickery come out to play? It's bad enough, when the winds are right, a toss of Mini's ginger locks casts a spell over anyone who's near. Minds turn to…
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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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just stop and think for a moment about that moment when all the forces of the universe converged inside one bleary eyed thought while watching some old b&w costume drama after a week of very very little sleep and the kids stopped with the crying but the milk went bad and there was not a…
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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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Brandi never wanted to travel that meandering middleroad, where life shrinks and grows and folds in on itself to reveal the early-warning signs of wrinkles and wisdom. Only fresh starts and big payoffs would do. Brandi hated the thought that her life could be reduced to a monotonous crawl of sameness from day to day…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 