And just like that, I can be a superhero again, sitting at a counter in good ole Fawcett. But what was the point of all that? Change...right. There's someone on the other side of the fireplace, but I can't quite make her out. Too much sound and fury between here and there. Don't think it's anywhere near France, these days. More likely somewhere ( Read more... )

In just about an hour I'm going to walk through a fireplace. Not sure if it's the right one, very few clues, minor glimpses as to what's on the other side, but the clock has stopped ticking. It's time ( Read more... )

How much better it feels to get that off my chest...not quite out of my system but off of my chest, at least. Onward and upward, now. Excited for the weekend and all its potential. Happy to look forward to the future instead of fearing it, looking back. There's some art, some friends, and who knows, maybe even dancing with Reinette, or, more ( Read more... )

What am I waiting for? I think I used to be an artist, or at least I used to do art. There are paintings and drawings of mine hanging in half a dozen, maybe more, houses I might have forgotten by now. Somebody made me their album cover. Wrote a song after something I said. Someone took my poems and bound them, but I can't remember a single one. ( Read more... )

Spinning my current behavior, an agile patience and well-intentioned stubbornness, into a reason to keep plodding through the snow. Waiting in front of an empty fireplace and thinking about 17th century France. Oh Louis, you were so lucky. For me there are only glances at a future that may never be and memories so good I wonder if the past was ( Read more... )

Spent the weekend chasing the past, watching not-so-pretty girls with rings on their fingers dance with the pretty boys who'd rather be dancing with boys, what a strange night at Shattered. Watching Marissa die and screaming at the tv because I don't care and I couldn't figure out why I was crying. Hitching my way toward college on one of Sissy's ( Read more... )