Merry Hairy Holidays

three years in a row I have hated the holiday season, and grinched my way through November 2oSomethingth until January 2. but this year, holly jolly glee is flinging from my heels. I'm pulled in by silly cartoons wtih red nosed deer and crave all the holiday beverages, Nog, Frog, and Ciders.
however last night I managed to scratch my face much like a newborn with nearly no motor control of limbs, I have a red slice, left wing, mustache scratch now. tis the season.

Whose afraid of the big bad wolf

I've bellowed. "stay bacK" with an emphatic ACK on the back. Ive swung left, swung right "POW! right in the kisser" today there is nothing but shadowy sunshine to melt down the frigid reality that is my ice covered cicle and make it nervously sweat under its pretentious assumption. i woke up, swelled when I saw the red pillow. I bellowed at it, "come hEre!" with an emphatic Ear in the here. Lifeless pillow
Empathic bellow
Friday Afternoon
Huff puff.

yesterday's scab.

you know when you have a scab, and how you can't leave it alone. and then people go ahead and make the comparison of literal scabs and emotional scabs. this is what I am thinking about today. mostly because I have a rather garish gash on my left shin that I can't leave alone. I see it, I think about it. I run my finger along it, and I can't help but just test it out, just to see how its healing, to see if it still hurts the same as it did yesterday. I know that giving it attention only gives it a longer leg-scab life, but I have to know. I have to know how its healing. and each time its never ready to be prodded at. I inquire of it, it cries. I await the day I will peal away the last shred of memory patching up the gash and watch as nothing happens, as I feel nothing and then I finally can let it exist as a fading scar, only occasionally noticing its remnants but each time forgetting bits and bits of how it got there.

Stood up today and decided to stand up. Fell down, tripped on purpose, then decided to stay down and work out the kinks. a small giant stood on my shoulders, literally. stood and yelled "its about time!"
his profession professed he proffesionally prefers to put pain AWAY.
"thank you kind small giant with soft hands and clean feet. thank you for knocking the rust off, loosening the hinges and being so kind."
standing up is easiest when standing, I know this now, but never think courage stays quiet.

SLOB

big slob. no common sense, no common courtesy, no common anything. just big slobbyness. He slobs through his walk. he slobs through he words. he Slobs in his sleep. Slob 1 knows a slob. slob 2. 2 slobs lobbing slop to the hogs. we hate slopping slobs.
"hello there, Its dark out." the slob speaks.
"hi." I stare.
"i'm not always this candid." he slobbed.
"ok." I blink.
"can I walk you home?" continued slobbing.
"yes." I flute.
Side by side we slobbed towards streetlamps and fences. a familiar door stood before us, serene, clean, inviting.
"see you tomorrow then?" slob said.
"yeah." I smiled.
big slob. looks good in a white t-shirt and old jeans. you win.

Intrest

I have been creatively preoccupied lately. my poor blog suffers, not that it is a huge problem, I get as much fulfillment out of this as I do my facebook status. what would it take to make a blog really great? what is is that I need to propel this blog into a well visited spot. Laura's blog pulls me in eagerly with her photography and style. Melissa's cracks me up and make me miss that Mad monkey. Mariko's always keeps me informed and entertained. What to do? what is it that I care enough about to draw in others care and left click. My creativity lies within fictional snippets. My pictures pale in comparison. My news never changes.


hmmm?

I could complain, tell what irritates me daily, like road signs. I hate them. road signs, reflectors, telephone poles mile markers just clutters and distracts me. while they serve a purpose they are completely overdone.

I could list my most current thoughts each day.
Friday 22- airway. painted progression. salads. 6 pm.

I could reveal things about myself. I hate walking on carpet with dry feet. it is uncomfortable.

I could list things I am looking forward to.
Laura and Adrian's wedding. seeing Mad and Mel. paint. horseback riding. sunsets. secret door entries.

hmm.... for now. I will just stew over this conundrum.

trying to figure things out.

this
is
a
test.

Voice Over

And so it is in the throngs of melancholy I have found that I have lost my voice. Long gone for days, weeks, nights, breakfast morning conversations, afternoon daydreams, months. It must have ran out the door with a suit case when I wasn't looking.
I have been looking for a voice to replace my lost voice. I've looked into a nice voice and I only found that I complimented too many people about too many things. I looked for a smart voice and came to know all to quickly that people don’t have a high tolerance for know-it-alls (especially know-it-alls who know nothing at all.) I searched for a calming intuitive voice and got tired of people asking me if I was feeling alright.
The individuals who have tangled their webs with mine, are whom I spend all to much time trying to impress, impress them with what I can be, what I can say(hence the voice searching) what I can type. All in attempts to draw my self higher than I was before to get a dash mark inches above the last, and for what?

olli olli oxen free

sometimes it feels right to hide. turn off all the lights. find a safe place and just hide. the only thing to do, hide. the only worry, being found.

Stain.

The light changed and he lurched the pickup through it, rushing to try and catch the next green light. it turned yellow and the car in front of us wasn’t so bold. He muttered some inaudible swear word, ran his hands through his hair and then loosened his tie. I watched him with sideways eyes. If he looked my way, my eyes would bolt straight ahead in the direction I was facing. I was facing south. the setting sun starred at his profile too.

I starred out the window. I noticed a little girl standing out side a phone booth. The little girl was wearing worn out pink shorts and a grey tank top that might have once been white. She was looking down at her turned in feet. The girl looked up and was crying. I looked through the parking lot, there had to be at least seven cars and a semi. People were hustling back and forth between greasy smudged convenience store doors and fueled up cars. The light changed green, he let off the break and then slammed it back down. the cowardly car did nothing.

“Go lady.” He was gripping the wheel, “go lady.” He said it as if she was taunting him on purpose and this was his warning to her.

I couldn't take my eyes from the little girl and the chaos this gas station had bred. I noticed a pickup with two men in it, they were starring at the little girl who was only about 4 feet to the left of there rusted out pick-up. our horn was honking.

“Turn in here.” I said. He shot me a confused look. “Turn in here!”

“we are late enough, we don’t have-“

“TURN.” I said, and I could here my mothers voice echoing through the interior of the truck.

We turned in, he muttered a more audible swear.

“park here.” I was already half out the door before he even had the truck stopped.

I walked across the pavement, with fierce determination, the point of my heels stabbing the ground and various parking lot debris with each step.. The heat was baring down on me. I reached the sticky, teary eyed little girl. I knelt down trying not to fall off my heels.

“where is your mom?” I said.

The little girl looked at me, she smelled sour.

“She said to wait here,” she said through sticky fingers.

“she is inside the store?”

The little girl pulled her dirty hand from her mouth and nodded.

“should we go in and find her?”

Shaking her head she said, “ no mommy said that I had to stay right here.”

“how long have you been standing here?” I heard him honk the horn, I ignored it. “how long have you been standing here?” the little was looking at the red pickup that had honked. “how long have you been standing here?”

The little girl just shrugged her shoulders, not sure what to say.

Grabbing her hand I started walking the little girl inside, “come on, lets go find your mom.” She didn’t protest. I could feel the two men in the rusted pickup starring us down as we walked by. my own paranoia setting in and sending up road flare warnings kidnappers. rapers. scary dirty men.

I pulled the door open and the smell of nachos and cigarette smoke was strong. I looked around the store, there were people milling about but no women that looked like mothers. “do you see her?”

the little girl looked around but said nothing. The store attendant was eyeing us. Dirty, beardy old man. I squeezed her hand. He twisted the ends of his goatee with his fingers and kept starring. I could hear honking outside, I glanced at him, he looked irratated. The rusted out pickup was gone. one burning flare just went out. Someone grabbed my arm from behind.

“what do you think you are doing with her?!” turning aroud I came face to face with a girl my age with long red hair.

“is she yours?” I asked. The look her face and the little girl letting go of my hand and grabbing the red head's leg was my answer.

“Who do you think you are?! You can’t just go around grabbing children." She continued to yell at me. I froze. I was so confused. I didn't know what was happening. my heart was in my throat. for a second I left confusion and tried to figure out how I even got here. I just wanted to get out of the store.

I said, “i'm sorry I just thought she looked scared ourside and there were these men, I just- I am sorry.” I turned and clicked out of the store with rude comments flowing from the red head. I looked back and the little gril was crying again.

He honked again at me. I got in the truck. I started to cry. I was embarrassed. he looked at me.

"Do you know them?" he asked.

I cried harder.

He froze, "hey, come here," he reached for me.

"DON'T." I burbled out between sobs, hating him, hating that gas station, hating that red head, hating heels, hating horns, hating myself, "don't."

Downsize.

this is a post from a tiny laptop. the screen is eight inches. this makes me thinks that there is a continual need to downsize. let just see how small we can make things. somedays I do not like anything, or anyone in particular. today is one of those days. I would prefer to be sitting in the sunshine, wallowing in delicious solitude. today I am angry at alabama at its business development. today i am angry at airline service and ticket prices. today I am unimpressed with online college courses. the only thing that seems right is icecream, the vanilla kind, in a waffle cone. today my inspiration is running thin.

Lazy Tyrant

Sitting still is easy. Letting decisions wane away until I do not have the choice to make a choice is easy. Staying in bed until noon is SO easy. Today I got out of bed at 11:43. today I ate a bowl of Kashi. Today I started moving forward. Again, the breeze of progression blows through my hair. I am skipping into the days of momentous living. The ground hears my steps bounding on its unforgiving chest, the ground does nothing to stop me. Smiling on my face, the sun watches and recognizes a familiar glistening brow.
Too often the Mundane begins to feel normal and ok. This is not ok.
I will beat off mundane boredom with a frantic stick of enthusiasm.
Violently I will kick dirt in the strange eyes of selfish gluttony.
Quietly I will ignore the urge to be stagnant. I will jump out of the stale water.
good bye lazy ruler. good bye.

eMpty.

This day golden arches lay subject to man. Exposed and naked to all who pass, they arch in shame. I can't help but notice you are hallow.
"Fret not, yellowey M, the sun will keep shining, fret not!
suppose you were a lowly I, then you would be in trouble as the one leg you stand on would be cold and shivering.
If you were an O, stripped of yellow plastic plates, unbalanced you would fall.
Be glad, Bold M, what with your four feet and balanced symmetry!
Still sad? Its not like they will leave you unlit, leave you cold, push you over.
I suppose you are right, It could happen."

Next Please

whirlingtwirling mAdnEss -hadthis- before;
three~
two~
hole-in-one.
Next please.
next ride, new ticket, its ticking... it sticking.
zipwhipflip hipache. the joint-right side.
miss friend. ms. friend. mrs. someone's new friend. for life, for them. him.
Be all alone, give all a loan. all own someone.
she knee he flea, flown, drown, crown, townsmen. mens town.
welcome to Town.
welcome two new loans.
whirlingtwirling mAdnEss -hadthis- before;
three~
two~
hole-in-one.
Next please.
next true fling
next lie flung
flip in, flip out,
ended
pretended. more?
finethen, next.

Upcoming Blurbello Site.

====UNDER CONSTRUCTION====
please let the anticipation haunt you.
plan to become a regular.
plan on critiquing.