Got busy reading blogs …
Showin off some (literary) skin …
I wrote and posted faithless @ blender
Kirk the blendahman, shared a piece from Fridah Kahlo.
Which led me to Marty McConnell and a collection of such lovely powerful fearless words.
Then I made a wish and got it. Rain started to fall late this afternoon. So in between my obsessive reading and excessive pinning :)) … I discovered the quilts of Susan Shie, the freshness of a young Ana Guerrero’s art ... and then I got a little curious and daring and crossed lines of a sinner’s almanac who speaks about venomous honey ;) of crooked paths and lonely nightingales, and a similarly inquisitive old soul, Jen Chandler finding inspiration from the rain, i was thinking she may be coming out from something … and this Lipi girl trying to convince me on enduring tedious relentless unpredictable long silly waits … dreams reincarnate, oh no they don’t! LOL …
And from last night ...
I remember Steele and her intoxication of chilled margarita and that achromatic color of cloud-covered sky and ash of lead. She got horribly tipsy (tipsy … sounds cute ;) )… ran into the loo. And called Grey. Fuck drunk dials!
(this witch is tellin you, this flu is curable. Delete the numbers from your cp. And from your head. (then you are free to get drunk any time of day, without waking up the next morning with all the shame and the remorse, the disdain and regrets of pushing those buttons and making that ishtupid phone call that rang forever.)
*Postscript
and and ... the music of this 19 year old song writer from Minnesota ... http://johnmarknelson.bandcamp.com/track/rain-comes-down ... all these for a Saturday ... I must say I have been quite productive LOL ... so tonight ... scary movie marathon naman harhar. I am a bum mom! LOL
... my other garden ;)
About Me
- Irma
- I'm not a graceful person. I'm not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2AM, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don't belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn't happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don't see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.
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