I always seem to write in this thing when it feels like the small hours of the morning, except that I know it isn't, and it just feels like it because even ten o'clock feels like small hours when you're viewing them from the wrong side of sleep. I don't know. Maybe insomnia lends me poetry, or courage, or heart enough to think of something at all ( Read more... )

It's 7:37 am. I have not slept. This may be because I have overslept sometime in the recent 48 hour cycle. I have no idea. But I have not slept ( Read more... )

Nanowrimo already? OHGOD, I wish I had that kind of skill. Gods, I wish I could still write ( Read more... )

For some bizarre reason, I have the urge to get up, now, at 1am, when it's pitch black out there, freezing cold and windy to boot, and go for a walk ( Read more... )

This is an old story, and one I've heard variations on since I was little. I think it was african, originally, although I don't think it was an Anansi tale. It doesn't feel like one. Maybe it's a Tiger tale, from before Anansi begged the stories from his papa. Or even from another tribe or another place in Africa, because it really is a big place ( Read more... )