Semi-Daily Scribbles

Carving out a corner to post random crap.

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  • You are more than a memory.

    ChrisYou were a guy Patty and I chased around town; from The Fabulous Rainbow Tavern to Scoundrel's Lair to the Mural Amphitheatre. You always said hello to us by name (even though you probably thought we were a tad bit annoying.) You were really cute, though, and of course sang like no other motherfucker of our generation.
     
    Fast forward years later … you were a guy Michael and I saw around the neighborhood, like that time you were seated near the window of an Alki eatery and my family stared and tittered at you and your companion (again, you probably thought we were a tad bit annoying.) But hey, you were who you were as we explained to our eight-year-old niece that you sang like no other motherfucker of our generation.
     
    And as random as it sounds, a care package I mailed to Mauritania while Ron was serving in the Peace Corps shined light on some rather dark times.
     
    We've all fallen on black days, Chris. Some of us can sit back and laugh at the absurdity called life. I know that's not so easy for others. None of this shit really makes sense, does it? All we can do is hold on, help others, and make art which is exactly what you did the entire time you spent with us. I don't blame you for the decision you made, but I'll be crying for a while as I listen to your music.
     
    The wind howled in a recognizable four-octave frenzy last night and shook our house. You are free and a part of everything now.

  • Darla’s Deepest Darkest Secret(s) That Ort Can See Right Through

     
    I AM A FAKE
    I AM A FRAUD
     
    Here I am. I make shit for a living and I despise craft. Crochet hooks, floss, decoupage lack nature's rough and tumble; no vagabond rhythm at all. But I have no control over my twitchy fingers. I just can't walk away from discarded things. (Ah, how nice the heart looks pulsating in its hutch by the Scorpio Moon window!) There she goes. The Girl Who Coaxes Beauty Out of Pieces of Trash. (So weak, so feminine, so utterly useless!) Recycler of the lost and forgotten, I see bits of me in all the wares up there on the self shelf. (Isn't that the definition of … ??)
     
    It must be noted that during Darla's moment of doubt and self-loathing, she was in the midst of creating a new hand-lettered sign (to be displayed in one's kitchen or rumpus room) for the Vintage Vixens Spring Bazaar:
     
    do stuff
    have fun
    make a friend along the way
    and leave ambition to the rubes
    because
    to strive is to miss
    the point of this ride
    entirely

  • Trust the Direction in Which Things Flow

    Hey, where were you on Tuesday? Random cried all day because He Was The Only One. Too much responsibility to handle! That morning, he must not have donned his big boy pants. Anyway, your cousin said you're such a "head's down" guy that she often forgets Bony Dancersyou're here/there. The Buzzard didn't know you were out of the box until 4:00 PM. He even cracked a joke about the level of attentiveness he holds for his minions (none, apparently.) And the talk-your-ear-off-but-basically-compassionate-hippie-zookeeper said: "Dude, call Lucky already. He ain't the sort to skip out on fun."

    As for me, I was downright sad. I brought in a pair of skeletons because you told me you always wanted to learn how to dance. I sure hope we get another chance.

  • feet up

    what you see beneath us
    supporting all our doubt and despair
    are bankers boxes full of paper
    defaced with coordinates on how
    we were supposed to steer this ship
    Feet Up
    now the return is delayed on our uncharted trip
    we may as well be carried on this tricky wind and
    count all the ways we can fuck up the simplest things
     
    (ah hell, you pretty well got my number
    there is not one thought i can hide from you
     
    but still …
     
    i need to put my feet up
    before i stick them someplace they don't belong)

  • On the Rise

    Previously…

    LureDarla's got ascension symptoms bad. Kind of like PMS plus heart palpitations, double vision, and frequent urination. Tinnitus, too, makes it hard for Darla to understand soft talker Ort anymore, no matter how close to her he stands. However (and Darla considers this symptom a boon), Darla now hears Ort rumbling about in the back of her head during the tranquil hours of daybreak.

    "Do the work and don't talk about it."

    "Hey! Everyone thinks she's got impeccable taste."

    "555," he sighs.

    Once shuttered for repairs, Darla Varney's Heart Center is open for business. Finally! Darla's found somebody who's not afraid of her brightness.

  • Air & Water

    Air and WaterWhat I have to offer you on Beltane doesn't pertain to fire, flowers, or fornication, but fertility is definitely in the mix. I give you aspects of me washed ashore by the sea. You know my heart is bobbing out there on the ocean. The little blue bag before you is filled with treasure to ensure peace, protection, and creativity. You already hold the star in your hand. What I can provide are 7 little secrets that will light the way.

  • Same thoughts, different day

    Tentacles

    Soul got foreclosed on
    Source says:
    Git outta yer head!
    Night of Tentacles

  • situational awareness

    Surface
     
    tummy troubles and forearms marked with bruises
     
    sunny claws her way to the surface
     
    too much time has she spent in the turbulence
     
    of deep, deep love
     
    catch and detach
     
    air comes to her rescue
     
    fire keeps her in line
     
    distress calls carefully edited
     
    no one accuses sunny of sending
     

  • Mythomania

    The ShadesThe astrology lady kept saying "Water Barrier" instead of "Water Bearer" when she gave my reading. Dam!
     
    "Make no concessions," she warned. "Just eat them."
     
    Our dark side defines us? The light shines so we can exchange pleasantries with our fellow shades? What a waste of hard earned cash. Everyone flashes fake images to ensure we do not know each other as the bitter recluses we really are. I saw you in the palm of my hand and wondered where you'd come from. Then it hit between the eyes. You come from me and all the projections I see. I have you pinned. I'm so good at following. You are the rock. I am the star. Together we create the lie that makes everyone right.

  • Live on Four Legs

    Been thinking about humanity a lot in recent days.
     
    Ashes to ashes. Daisy
     
    Living on this bizarro rock has made me more amenable to escapism than usual. Escape the headlines. Escape slow-day-at-work debates about who should stay in the good ol' US of A and who shouldn't. Escape being human. It's a shame that if The Shit goes down, the inhabitants who truly deserve to be here will also perish. I'd rather be …
     
    On that cheery note, the sweet girl pictured above escaped the horrors of nuclear annihilation. Daisy has moved on to be with her schnauzer buddies Maggie and Waverly. May they be forever happy chasing each other and supping from their never-empty bowls of kibble.