Here comes the crazy again. I am beside myself. And above, below, strewn across the floor... anywhere but IN myself. Where is my self?

I've laid aside the great treasure hunt to pick the lint from the queen's hairbrush. She tells me I'm very good at it.

I talk ( Read more... )

I'm a photographer ( Read more... )

Come closer, Aloysius, so that I may take a bite.
Or do I have to crawl under the bed and drag you out?

After the divorce, and the smoking phase, and the buying guitars on eBay phase, and the days of cabin fever, my mom took up burning ( Read more... )

Self absorbed, self absorbed. Swallowing big needy gulps of myself -- a fine vintage. Dipping into the past to hold it up to the light. As proof. See ( Read more... )

Moss, transplanted. From an unmoving rock to the back of a giant, mangy beast. The host trudges on and on from one stagnant pond to the next, to water the moss.

It doesn't appear to grow. But it spreads. If you watch it, you'll never see it move. Maybe it'll ripple a little in the breeze. But it will not sprout legs to step.

Hooray!

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Ok, now it's time to sell something.

Some highlights from 2009 ( Read more... )