I come here to be inspired.
Hopefully in sharing what sets my mind alight I'll inspire some of you.
Let me know what you think.
Throwback ThursdayYou know what I miss?
The simple days
Of aimless buses and trains,
Like magic carpets
That helped us to escape,
If only for a little while.
I miss the endless walks
That led to hours of
Shopping center shenanigans--
Spinning in desk chairs,
Petting that little blind kitten,
And reading anything
From cheesy joke books
To Frost's melancholic verse.
I miss cheap deli lunches,
Discounted coffee house milkshakes, and
Midnight conversations on the swings
At your old elementary school,
With the moon so bright that
I could see your T-shirt.
Remember that time when, hot chocolate in hand,
We followed the sound
Of live fiesta music
Sailing on the hollow winter air
Until we nearly crashed
A Hispanic family's party?
Or what about the moments
Of heartbroken silence
When we discovered
The ruins of a piano
At the church
That was once your daycare?
I remember climbing, barefoot,
Halfway up Ricky's fence
To watch his illegal fireworks
And stealing Mom's car
In the dead of night,
Just for store-bought C
Time is a human construct ably abetted by the sky, the stars. We looked at the sky and decided to delineate day and night, to make them into two halves, when in fact they were just fine whole.
Prehistory – our prehistory – we were overwhelmed by the sky. Cave paintings and inscriptions are a myriad of hypothetical disasters, stars falling, bursting, chelating. For we saw the Milky Way in all its wonder, all white dust, blue light and rosy curls, a solid mass hanging heavy in the sky.
A girl has prehistory as well. Before she is born, before she is even the star twinkling in her mother’s eye, her parents meet. They fall in love because the stars deem them compatible. The mother, an Aquarius, full of intellect and dreams. The father, a Taurus, rooted so firmly in the ground that he has enough foundation to lift the world. Both are fixed signs, revolving around one another, becoming the binary.
The Kalahari have a myth: deep in the desert, a
EvanescenceYou’re supposed to make love the night of your wedding day, but John and I did not. Frankly, I don’t know how anyone can. We were exhausted. Our day started at the crack of dawn to get ready and was filled with constant adrenaline, standing, travelling, photos, socializing, speeches, dancing; before we knew it, it was 3 am and we had no energy left for anything else.
So, the night of our wedding day, John and I just sprawled our clothes across the chairs in our fancy hotel suite and crawled into bed. Both laying on our backs, looking up at the beautifully painted ceiling, we sleepily recalled our favourite moments of the day. Like when his father was the first to get on the dance floor and make a total fool of himself, and when my maid of honour made half the room tear up with her beautiful speech about how happy we’ve been from the very start.
I nuzzled my face into his collarbone and murmured, “This has been the best day of my lif
ArmageddonWe clapped our hands in prayer against the ever-coming sin,
stitched the world of truth and lies for all that did us in.
For earth had become a wasteland, a tinder-ridden field
for those that sacrificed themselves to the weapons they did wield.
"At last, our time has come," you said, "at last we can be free."
But in all the time that we had left, there was never a "we."
So why are you and I entangled among the universe's trick?
Wind-chime sounds and pink giggles -- no mirth was born of this.
The last day we touched hands and sang, she whispered in my ear,
"The chords of God are ringing, please tell me that you're near."
It was then that I had realized my dearest was struck blind
for pallid overtook her senses and left with all but mind.
The end of the world wasn't meant for people like you and me.
It took us all our might to shatter fear and command our flee.
But death had plans of puppetry and voodoo dolls were keen
because he'd eaten sugar so bitter that no one else had seen.
Arapahos in the Gardens
Once he made his point, we stopped in a border town called Nuevo Laredo. It was an odd stop. We slid out of the car into heat, dazzled by colors--reds and yellows screamed, and blues looked like something in an electric dream. We smiled at each other. Suddenly, we were tourists.
After a brief sit-down in shade to eat Mexican food, I just as suddenly found myself alone. Following a quiet, private conference between my father-in-law John and husband Midge, with a few reassurances and winks tossed my way, John and Midge disappeared for some minutes. I sat on a low, white-washed adobe wall and kept my eyes open. I nervously considered the situation. Did John and Midge have to make some final arrangements about the ranch we were going to? Did they go to a bar or one of those girlie shows d
VerbatimOn June seventeenth at 2:33 PM, Jacob Fantana falls off the roof and hits his head. This is the approximate time that Cory later gives him. It is a particularly nasty fall: The house they had been roofing is two stories, built on a hill. At the hospital, the doctors wreathe thick gauze around Jake's head and subject him to a series of tests. Rachel cries as Dr. Dubey explains that x-ray computed tomography has revealed a mild skull fracture and bruising on his inferior frontal gyrus. Jake stares without interest at the diagrams and fiddles with his bandages. He attempts to console Rachel, but he is embarrassed, and worried about his insurance copay.
They keep him overnight for observation. As Rachel drives him home the next day, she repeatedly reaches over to touch Jake's hand on the armrest. He smiles politely and grasps her fingers in return. Through the window, he watches the bland streets of Sandusky pass by. The brakes on Rachel's Lumina whine quietly at every stoplight. Ja
I`ll set this life on fire so I can see it clearly before it burns|
Current Residence: first star to the right and straight on till morning
MP3 player of choice: Phone
Shell of choice: kappa
Skin of choice: Chromatophoric