Ah! My fine friends, another year has pressed itself upon us, ushered in with inebriation and sealed with a Grade-A hangover. It brings great promises of the warm weather to come, of exploration and adventures to be had. We must be cautious, of course, for the nights are still long and this season is still the oft-cold, oft-treacherous winter, but ( Read more... )

Found this weird thing I wrote back in July. Figured I'd throw it here; why not? Though it's not my favorite thing I've written, it will at least break up the strange winter baraonda mood that has seized myself and this journal of late.

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Harold Harpsichord
by S. E. Price

He wasn't the first ( Read more... )

Jewelry is a game. And I am a keeper of the jargonous keys ( Read more... )

Here's where the Serpent belongs. There's always room to expand the canon of poems in the so-called "Serpent's Cycle" lyrical mythology. Provided inspiration for it ever hits my way again ( Read more... )

Great news, perhaps: today, it came to me, exactly came to me, where the Serpent (see a few posts previous) belongs. Of course, this revelation came when I was supposed to be studying for a test, but nuts to that noise. I've already scribbled down a few promising things, and provided my motivation sticks around AFTER I finish writing this (due ( Read more... )

I remember having the intention of sharing October's best entry, once that long, strange month was done. Well, kids, guess what? October's over. Here's my offering. Unfortunately, I've got a tie between two of my advice-givers. So, I'll just have to post those two entries, right? And leave the other two contenders to percolate in obscurity ( Read more... )

One day, I'll do NaNoWriMo, but not this year. I tried it once, failed, and for what's it's worth, it's been a long and strange October. Going into 50,000 words of commitment after that tumble-dry-low-tumult would just take the cake of too much with not enough to really write about. So, perhaps, tonight, I'll tell you a very little about the ( Read more... )

Winter is strange, and it makes me strange with the shifting of the seasons. Maybe it has something to do with getting less light. Who knows? All I can do is dream of San Servolo, dreaming San Servolian dreams, wondering how the wild cats are doing, and not get enough sleep. It's like I'm still abroad--not enough sleep, lower left eyelid twitching ( Read more... )

 They used to sing songs of my glory, praise to my liver, odes to the feats of my drinking. But then I tumbled down through the weight classes, the downfall from champion to a middle-class lightweight. Falling, falling, three drinks to absurdity. But the sips still make me more human.

Recovering from the near-death experience of abominable hunger-nausea that is quickly becoming de rigueur for the hangovers I don't manage to sleep through, I thought to myself, "My, but I haven't posted a dilly-damn thing on this here livejournal in a while." So, while sipping on the sweet salvation of tomato soup, listening to original Broadway ( Read more... )