Last night, when I unexpectedly got a call offering me an apartment I never thought would be given me (fer gawdsakes, I answered 'do you have bad credit' with 'yes, MSP' on the application!) and accepted because someone was asking me a question on the phone so I said yes, the next thing I did was call Dave. Sure, there were maybe three minutes of ( Read more... )

10 pm get home from work water plants check rats eat raw ear of corn 12:30 am fall asleep 6:15 am wake up make breakfast make lunch pack lunch feed rats water rats check garden shower get dressed catch bus work work work work buy rat litter deposit cheque catch bus get home go across street get masquerade dress take dress to have it altered meet ( Read more... )

In the beginning, the very beginning, I said: you're gonna break my heart someday, boy.

The title of this journal is watching the cycle: leaves to mulch to soil to leaves. It's because that's the only thing I can count on ( Read more... )

I've always been one for metaphor, so after he says "you haven't been happy" he says further "tend your own garden or the winter will go hard with you. It's coming, you know." It leaves me wondering about the funny shapes our hearts come in, slewing sideways in the haphazard harness of hidden motivations on the road to some -- goal? It is true ( Read more... )

Your breathing is like a light left out, and even with your eyes closed I can hope that when I come home at last the light will brighten a door left unlocked against my coming.

Here I am. Computer room's arranged to I sit on the bed crosslegged while I'm on my computer-- I like beds, or the floor, better than chairs. I don't spend enough time on here for it to matter to my back. Directly behind me is an open window, and if I wanted I could lean out and touch an amelanchier or one of the weeds that's grown up around it ( Read more... )

We rolled home in the sunset, cool soft air pouring in through the windows, and I got the shivers and butterflies in my stomach when I saw my ecozone again. In Iowa the soil is so so deep and black, being stripmined by corn, and there's no wild in it. Across the Dakotas it rises up, gets drier, rolls rocky through Montana, and then crisps through ( Read more... )

If life were a poem, it would be a circle. If people were a cradle, the world would be no different- when we're talking about social networks we refer to the hammock that supports us, each knot and strand shaped to a different part. It keeps us from lying in the dirt (though what sort of a metaphor is that, you ask, coming from someone so in love ( Read more... )

Nine Days.

Don't you know that I go crazy
But I've nothing left to give
Though I'll miss you for a while
Don't you know that I go crazy
But you're on your own tonight
Though you know I'll miss your smileThat album is so completely meshed with Jan and Kynnin in my mind, with a very specific time period in my life. I remember ( Read more... )

...that there is so much joy in the perfect belonging that happens when you eat, consume, take into yourself something which has been given to you from the earth for nothing, for the price of a little bending and a little scratching in the dirt or even, sometimes, for simply the price of not pulling something up. You interact with something bigger ( Read more... )