One-A-Day

graham crackers crumble and s'mores beg for seconds but my heart can only shatter and it's not beat in days. i'm not alive without your sun i cannot die without your touch but still we stand, apart. what do you mean to teach tonight? your silence holds such terrors! but you won't hold me tight so how will i survive? my spine is crooked but whose crook caught and dragged me back to this spot? i am a crook for stealing what i can't possess. go to sleep, my little one -- our little life encapsulated in your eyes. your gaze waters my horses. and we gallop far far away.

my muscles are of ramen my bones are pure saltine but my heart is made of diamond just try and fuck with me. i don't have dollar bills to burn but a fire blazes in my chest i'll take passion over cash ...

Just realized there is an "email" button that pops up when I post to these blogs. So not only am I strongly encouraged to share my posts on friends' feeds, but I get a suggestion to go one step further* and email you as well. (Hope you like spam.) If you're in Hawaii, aloha. (If you're not, aloha.) I love layers of meaning like onions love nothing because they're inanimate. So basically nothing. I don't know why I'm posting my thoughts rather than keeping them bottled inside. Maybe I'm finally realizing that bottling these words up just clogs up my head which just spews out ideas. I should purge my head of concepts even though the vast majority will be a waste of time and cyberspace. (Though that seems to be growing in the same way the universe is.) But the problem tonight is that I'm getting tired. *I say "further" because this is a metaphorical distance, though I suppose you could also use "farther" since I

Framing a story. Or continuing an old? Vampire / body snatcher / wizard saga. Two friends preoccupied with death coping with life in different ways. Twenty-something still living with parents, unemployed and unmotivated, finds an impetus through graffiti art.  Novelty is scary but appealing all the same. . . . 

So I'm gaining weight and getting dumber So it's about damn time That I come back and type words on a screen. I should probably compose with pen and pad Since the feel of the pen between my fingertips Is so sensual I just. cannot. even. Superb, how swell the awesome greatness is! There are no vegetables in my garden But I wish there were a bun in the oven. Sometimes When I  stop thinking about myself for a change I want more. Being me is so unsatisfying sometimes Because I find new things about myself everyday And novelty is dangerous. But give me a novel any day. But will I write one? If I live in the today.

I promised myself I would complete these tasks on my day off: Write 3 blog posts. Do 2 loads of laundry. Watch 1 episode of Mad Men .  Now, the third may seem a bit strange, as Netflix, more often than not, ends up on my "completed" list without any conscious effort. The idea was not to exceed that one episode before the other two tasks had been completed. So I did the first load of laundry and have been dragging my feet about the posts...and staring longingly at the TV. So it's time to sit down and write. I decided to begin with the least labor-intensive blog I have. Hmm, that's not right. I guess this blog format seems easiest because the word-of-the-day posts have a rigid format and I need a little structure right now. My OCD tells me to look back at old posts to see what format I used for these kind of things, but that is the first of many tangents I will forgo as I pursue my goal. Today's word is equanimity , which according to Dictionary.com , m

i don't have anything planned but who among us ever does even if we plan our plans step aside when something else trumps the original offer. or maybe it's a boulder but over eras, it too erodes so live hard love long while you can and life might be justified.

fire burns. ice melts. which is my heart with you?  i want both but fantasy fades and you are not who i see when i turn out the lights.

where there is substance without import i am there. i feel useful but utility next to artistry cannot compare. i have so much inside but have shifted my focus to my output instead of what i am. can i become what i hold can i ever grasp my potential will i ever try? if i died in five minutes how useless would my end become? i sit here, fingers afire but mind only just beginning to awaken again. where did i go? i used to think my individualism was a strength i sometimes feel my cooperation is strength what is stronger: the chain or my link? i cannot focus on one without  weakening the other. who are you, girl? why should we waste a breath on you? show us your brilliance or we will always turn away.

what am i feeling other than emptiness i'm a mason jar fresh off the shelf before the food to fill me before the wax to close me i am empty. where is the canner to make me whole?

I always struggle over which pictures to pair together. I feel like finding that thread that ties the pictures together is necessary to make a coherent post. Still, requiring myself to seek this connection is a big reason why I don't post as often as we'd like. Maybe I should lower my own expectations and just throw my miscellany together, theme be damned. Let's explore that avenue together: here's a few unrelated pictures. If their only commonality is that they were discovered during the same thrifting outing, so be it. First up: INFANTRY. Not exactly the battle formation I would have chosen The battlefield looks like total chaos; no phalanxes or defensive lines. What could these men be possibly hoping to accomplish with this seeming lack of strategy? Why, hello, madam! It's been a long time since we've opted for a full-scale war for one woman. (Helen, I'm looking at you.) Goodwill might as well be the battlefield. I hoped to move o