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In 2009, ( Read more... )

How do you feel? This is how I feel.

Good, yes, good. Fresh snow makes me feel clean and new. Walking home from the Market, full of tea and edamame and poetry, looking over the bridge to the ice floes below (colored peachy pink and lavender cream in the last slips of sunlight-- stretching and yawning across the creek like epic Arctic glaciers ( Read more... )

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Nothing cheers me like a Frozendale, with the powdered sugar heaping on lawns and roofs. It started in fierce and heavy yesterday around noon. At six, folks from across town were knocking their boots on our doorstep, pink from the wind and ice, soon sighing in contentment and shucking layers as the night went on and the warmth set in. Amplifiers ( Read more... )

I felt distinctly as if I were about to become the subject of an Art Frahm painting today. Walking down the street after lunching at The Market, my tights slipped completely off of my ass, down my thighs in a beeline toward the ground. The differences between me and his demure pantiless subjects were only that I wasn't carrying celery or a very ( Read more... )

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the sound of my winter. the sound of one hand clapping.


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I've very nearly abandoned my little livejournal, my huckleberry friend. There's not much to say, though. I'm living a zombie life without a zombie love: my heart is too tough to eat, to chew and grind with teeth. So far I've spent the day cutting paint samplers into pieces and thrashing in bed to Sharky's Day. That's how you know it's the weekend ( Read more... )

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Last night was Twin Peaks night with the classic Lucy doughnut spread. I love Ali and Louie. My priorities are so far out of whack. I still want to bake a pie.