Tuesday, October 2, 2012

great season!

hi little tenders.
o autumn.
it's really here!
every year i look forward to october.

whether it is a harbinger of the coming winter or a eulogy to the dearly departed summer, october always fulfills it's rustling promise of gifts!

so many colours: rust, citrine, ochre, russet, tawny, pumpkin, amber, burnt mahogany.
ugh ugh ugh
cozy early nights
sweaters.  layers.
burnished beasts.
baked goods.
root vegetables!
and to quote my darling honey: "general toe-warming and snug-as-bugging".

embrace the change!
o hey, i also have a second blog now.
it's called feastfestival and it's all about words and communication and interesting literary thingys.

Friday, September 28, 2012

great apples!

it's autumn, tender ones.
go out and pick some apples!
it's the best!

o and also?

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

great shakes!

so i've had a lot of time on my hands lately.

and you know, what they say about idle hands might be true after all.
devil's playground indeed, my little tenders, devil's playground indeed.
drumming, drumming, drumming my fingers like an impatient nanny.
fighting the urge to succumb to those nagging fears in my head telling me that the barometric headache i'm suffering from is actually a ticking time bomb, a cerebral aneurysm prancing about my brain box, waiting for the music to stop.

i'm anxiously awaiting september, when classes start again.
i'm anxiously awaiting the end of the week, when my new job begins.
i'm anxiously awaiting tomorrow, when i get to try out being a production assistant for the first time.
i'm anxiously awaiting a phone call that will tell me what equipment i'm required to pick up for said commercial shoot tomorrow.

bottom line is, folks, i'm waiting. anxiously. with bated breath, even. BATED.

waiting is a powerful beast.

so what do we do with all that time?
i've spent so much time waiting.
i've been wasting time waiting.

i am one of many in an idle population, whiling away my free time when i should be utilizing every second i have trying better myself. i should be writing lists/stories/letters, taking walks/names, exercising, cuddling small animals, doting on my honey.

but i've been playing dragons of atlantis for the last two days instead.

because, you know, i've got to keep lumber and food production up so i can rebuild my garrison and training camps, research new medicine, crush the enemy and start training some giants, ogres and titans while raising my baby egg into a soul sucking WRAITH DRAGON.  i've never been more productive in my life as i am in my fake life as elder von skimmington.  i mean, really, WHAT am i doing?  i'm procrastinating.  i'm count dillon, master overlord of procrastonia.

admittedly, i don't love the summer.  and by "i don't love the summer" i mean, i really resent it.  the sun is so mean, it's like a perpetually poking finger.  i just want to wave it away, shoo it off of the back of my head where it's glaring like the dink in the sports car who had to slow down because you pressed the crosswalk button.  so, in the summer, i just want the evenings and the sweat, but none of the sun stroke that makes me feel like crying and talking about all of my feelings all of the time.  so it's understandable that i might put some stuff off.

but times are tough, friends, times are tough.
buck up, get a running start and fly into the seething face of the sun, little icarus, because you never know when that wax is gonna melt.
life is short and i'm not going to make it any shorter.
hear that?
that's me slamming the proverbial book closed.
time to take action.
to hell with my dragons, i'm going outside!

Sunday, July 15, 2012


lay me in a shallow swale
lay beside me, pure and pale
drape me with egyptian cloth
hold my face till it falls off
if my body sighs and drips,
and if your weight should dust my hips;
pestle me into the earth
bellow now, with weighty mirth.
should i grow again in spring,
my shallow swale will flowers bring.
and if my scent asphyxiates
let rabbits eat, thus conjugate
my sickly sweet, my acid sour
brings early end, head tuck and cower.
now dim fur sheds and flesh-flies eat
my shallow swale takes in this meat.
then carrion gives rest its ghost
and i maintain my earthly post.