It has been oh so very, very long since I have written (approximately five years give or take) and I feel I should take it up again. Update: I am single and very, very happy about it (for the first time in forever 🎜) and I am now a teacher, which is kind of fitting. For those who actually at one point followed my blog, thank you and I'm baaaaack! (The Terminator said I would be)

As the end of the week chases my tale, I can't help but try to regain at least some of my innocence back. I would love to write right now, but I find I don't quite have the words in my arsenal to relay all that I have been thinking and feeling the last few weeks. Today, I need to be everybody's rock, the place which they feel safe enough to fall on. My sanity is malleable, but tomorrow, I hope, I will be in a safe space to fall apart like I need to. Internally, I am unravelling. Others fall apart, though, and I am the one they come to. So I must be the fierce and loyal friend they need. After that, well...I will unravel away, burrowed in my own longing and loneliness.


Quote of the day: “Why love the boy in a March field with his kite braving the sky? Because our fingers burn with the hot string singeing our hands. Why love some girl viewed from a train bent to a country well? The tongue remembers iron water cool on some long lost noon. Why weep at strangers dead by the road? They resemble friends unseen in forty years. Why laugh when clowns are hot by pies? We taste custard we taste life. Why love the woman who is your wife? Her nose breathes the air of a world that I know; therefore I love that nose. Her ears hear music I might sing half the night through; therefore I love her ears. Her eyes delight in seasons of the land; and so I love those eyes. Her tongue knows quince, peach, chokeberry, mint and lime; I love to hear it speaking. Because her flesh knows heat, cold, affliction, I know fire, snow, and pain. Shared and once again shared experience. Billions of prickling textures. Cut one sense away, cut part of life away. Cut two senses; life halves itself on the instant. We love what we know, we love what we are. Common cause, common cause, common cause of mouth, ear, tongue, hand, nose, flesh, heart, and soul." ~Ray Bradbury-Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Song of the day: http://youtu.be/5fBFX0WLyys

Poem of the day:

Baudelaire in Airports
by Amy King
Will my arm be enough to reach you? On whose side is indecision? You are the mother of material travel, even in the form of a shoeless child. It is difficult to place time—especially here. You aren’t now, and you don’t come here. The other sameness, an other of the same in the window before take off. So she learned past such things the echo. With the same eye from windows one watches a person with umbrella, sleek and pointed, seek sky from its wet roof. As if the bitter low would be a woman with whiskers, her eyes desperate, street-view, alone. How does this view of everything arc the moon? If a mosquito lands, what happens to the one who flew? She gives over to the site of red, another selfless pooling. A hungry pond. The painting of the person also wears mobile eggs, and the woman returns to wheat fields to drink goat’s milk for her meal and bath. That the body harbors more than combination, that we are more than alchemy’s process, that they are agents and actors incognito, is visible only to those strolling on avenues on lost streets Parisian, no longer able to be found.

Yes please.

With an unsteady gait
and eyes cast
    downward,
my pace quickens
to a trot.
I've always been
bad at pacing,
too impulse driven, as if
the turning of screws
and the world had
anything to do with me.
In the blink of an eye
love disappears, then looms
close again, so close
I can taste its disparate grin. So
close I lick my lips in
anticipation
and taste its supple kiss.
Burning is both painful and invigorating
even in the throes of woe.

Top Ten Favorite Books of all Time

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#10:

+A Long  has just nominated me for this award. (Thank you, dear!)
This is a link to his Blog: http://ajwrites57.blogspot.com


This is seriously humbling. I have been writing for years, but am new to the blogging community.

Here are the rules:
1) Display the award logo on my blog
2) State SEVEN facts about myself.
3) Link back to the person who nominated you.
4) Nominate FIFTEEN other Bloggers who deserve this
5) Notify each of the Bloggers of their nomination for this award.

Here are SEVEN facts about me:

1) I have five tattoos: the red and green Mario mushrooms, a phoenix, a rockhopper penguin, and a yin/yang (in the form of a sun/moon).

2) While I love technology and can't live without it, to me, nothing compares to the sturdiness of vintage things. I own two record players and a typewriter. I love listening to music on Vinyl. It has a richness to it. I own a nook, but still buy books. My bookshelves (I have five) are literally overflowing with books. I can't stop buying them.

3) Editing is my real passion, even more so than writing. I do it for friends now just for fun. Someday I hope to make a living at it. Right now I am currently in school working on my Bachelor's in English. I work at a magazine publishing company. My hope is that somehow, someway, I can move from here over to book publishing. To read and edit for a living!! I can't think of anything better.

4) My favorite book genre for fiction is sci/fi/ fantasy (both to write and read). For non-fiction it is philosophy. I enjoy Kierkegaard, Sartyr, Nietzsche, and many others. What I enjoy most about it though is that it motivates you to think critically and question EVERYTHING.

5) I don't believe in God per se, but I sometimes speculate that there may be a supreme being of some sort (or many). If there wasn't one though, it wouldn't be upsetting to me. The most likely answer to me though is something none of us have thought of, like cats are Gods or something equally ridiculous. It is more likely that all of us have it wrong, than that one of us has been lucky enough to glimpse the truth.

6) My favorite book is Atlas Shrugged. Favorite song is "A Case of You" by Joni Mitchell, on vinyl. My favorite show is Walking Dead. My favorite movie is The Wizard of Oz.

7) I don't remember what my natural hair color looks like.

Here are my nominees:
+A Long   http://ajwrites57.blogspot.com
+Jasveena Prabhagaran   http://thoughtsandviewsthatmatter.blogspot.com
+David Kent   http://writerinthemountains.blogspot.com
+Phil Simpkin   http://1455bookcompany.blogspot.com
+Alexander Trapp   http://springthetrapp.blogspot.com
+Michael Carter  http://backseatviewer.blogspot.com
+Emma Greenacre   http://harrisfour.blogspot.com
+Kevin Smith   http://www.super-tweeters.com/blogs/user/kgsmith
+Calvin Dean http://calvindean.blogspot.com

I'm afraid I don't have any others. Cheers!

monochromaticity

Today's words to turn into a poem:

lackluster
visceral
aesthete
ardent
zeal
monochromaticity
dilettante

Hopefully I will have one by the end of the day. Need to channel some of this pain.

A Lacking

I move like a specter through
these dusty walls, unsheathed, rudderless,
picking at the fleshy wounds beneath.
What can I say?
I have a propensity for masochism.
The coffee leaves an
unfinished ring, a Rorschach of uncertainty;
a syllogism both beautiful and achingly incomplete.