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Hanging on like St. Christopher, Waiting to chase the moon.
Dream well.
xo
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What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman!! And, apparently, Allen Ginsberg, too. I'll attribute this to too much time spent wandering the produce section of the grocery store this evening. I can't waaaaaaaiiiiiiit for the farmer's market to start back up next month. Strawberries, kale and sun-brewed tea. Love.
I am wading through a ( Read more... ) -
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Rainy night house.
Art-based theme for crafty-like projects that I have been working with:
a question of locks
my knuckles are sore from post-thrift embroidering.
also, I keep drawing trees.
Well. not really treeS.
it's the same tree, over and over and over and over....
My lawn-art dog that I keep in my garden (his name is Robert) has lost an eye ( Read more... ) -
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So.
It has to be said.
Dancing lyme is hard.
Writing lyme is damn near IMPOSSIBLE.
Maybe it's just writing lyme for dancers? Maybe it's trying too hard to incorporate each important bit of story and dizzy and light and gray that folks have told me so far? Maybe I need to talk to more people.....that could very well be it. Except I've already ( Read more... ) -
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Postal goings-on, a list for myself:
I've got to stop it with the housewarming packages.
They get more excessive with each one that I put together.
No one needs 4 pillows instead of one because you couldn't pick a color.
A family of narwhals will soon make its way to PA.
I still haven't gotten back to the one person who needs me to get back to ( Read more... ) -
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Somedays I miss singing so much I could scream.
Alright, that's most days lately.
No one ever gets my wonky theory and guess-the-composer jokes.
It's a bit sad, really....on my part and on the world's. Ah, well.
Maybe in my next life I'll be a cello player.
Or maybe I'll be a kazoo maker.
Or maybe I'll just dance.
I'll probably just dance.
( Read more... ) -
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I am behind on basic life functions ( Read more... )
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