Blog Posts
We got married! November 4th 2023
November 2018
Got engaged to the love of my life :* Love you Michael.
Got engaged to the love of my life :* Love you Michael.
October 2016
I did my darndest to participate in Inktober 2016. It's a challenging exercise in which you attempt to produce an ink drawing every day. I almost did it! I did miss a few days lol. here are some of the results:
I did my darndest to participate in Inktober 2016. It's a challenging exercise in which you attempt to produce an ink drawing every day. I almost did it! I did miss a few days lol. here are some of the results:
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May 10 2016
Today I woke up in Poe's pajamas. It should have been a gray day to match their stiffness and their solemnity, but the sun shone bright today. In addition to the pajamas, I found a raven quoting from my sock drawer. He said he refused to say the “n” word (not that one, the one that’s three syllables ends with ore), and told me that dandelions were just as important as rosaries. I suspect he's right.
Taking him downstairs for tea, I noticed that my pet rats had built a pyramid. They had made an oversight, and had built it out of ice. An ant colony had made preparations to entomb their queen there, but the rats were going to have to take sugar in payment. After mopping up the burial, I sat down and tried to imagine why I would've woken up in Poe's pajamas. That prince of the sophomoric, that genius of prose, why would I suddenly be wearing his itchy undergarments?
Seems to me it's the universe telling me to get my ass in gear. I've been waiting for a change for so long instead of making one. I forgot the basic admonishment for life; the one that goes, “no one will do it for you!” All these priests and well-wishers, even our psychics, swamis, yogis, fathers, priestesses, houngons, spiritual leaders, reverends, nuns, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, are just...well, traffic cops. Like those guys who wave the little baton when it's your turn. Those guys are great. They're helpful. They have a purpose. But, they don't follow you home and park your car.
We have to learn to figure it out for ourselves. What harder lesson is there for a human to learn? No one will do it for you. You have to figure it out yourself. I want the answer to my life to be simple. I want it boxed up like Chinese take-out and handed to me with a big-ass red bow attached. I want to steam roll it, unfold it, and pigeon hole it into something that I can sufficiently deal with. I think most of the worlds problems are indeed philosophical; I know most of mine are. Oh, I can blame them on other things, but when it comes down to it, it's all about how you deal. We can blame politics; it's super easy. Especially with all the absolute bat-shit insanity happening right now. Politics is a roadblock of howler monkeys. As long as there are loud leaders, there will be sheep. I mean people who will follow them. Blaming others, blaming anything but myself for the lack of change in my life, the sheer stagnancy of it, is an escape. It's not working so well anymore.
So, I poured the raven a cup of tea, and we sat and talked about dreams for a while. He asked why I was so unmotivated to make a change, and I couldn't think of a good answer. He called me a loser and I called him a rat-bag-feather-duster. That's when scotch replaced the tea. He said I ought to try doing one amazing incredible thing before breakfast. I said the fact that I got out of bed was amazing, he said no, something else. I said well I don't eat breakfast, so am I off the hook? That's when he bit me. It’s good advice, but hard to follow. What qualifies as amazing anymore? So, I sang Styx “Renegade” at the top of my voice outside wearing playboy bunny slippers and not much else. My neighbors applauded. So did the raven. Apparently that qualified.
What's my first step? How do I change things? I don't know where to begin. I need a new lover, but those seem to be fleeting. If anyone out there knows a sure fire way to make those dicks stay around, let me know. The raven said I ought to try offering them entrails, it always worked for him. That's when I took the damn pajamas off and went to fucking work.
Today I woke up in Poe's pajamas. It should have been a gray day to match their stiffness and their solemnity, but the sun shone bright today. In addition to the pajamas, I found a raven quoting from my sock drawer. He said he refused to say the “n” word (not that one, the one that’s three syllables ends with ore), and told me that dandelions were just as important as rosaries. I suspect he's right.
Taking him downstairs for tea, I noticed that my pet rats had built a pyramid. They had made an oversight, and had built it out of ice. An ant colony had made preparations to entomb their queen there, but the rats were going to have to take sugar in payment. After mopping up the burial, I sat down and tried to imagine why I would've woken up in Poe's pajamas. That prince of the sophomoric, that genius of prose, why would I suddenly be wearing his itchy undergarments?
Seems to me it's the universe telling me to get my ass in gear. I've been waiting for a change for so long instead of making one. I forgot the basic admonishment for life; the one that goes, “no one will do it for you!” All these priests and well-wishers, even our psychics, swamis, yogis, fathers, priestesses, houngons, spiritual leaders, reverends, nuns, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, are just...well, traffic cops. Like those guys who wave the little baton when it's your turn. Those guys are great. They're helpful. They have a purpose. But, they don't follow you home and park your car.
We have to learn to figure it out for ourselves. What harder lesson is there for a human to learn? No one will do it for you. You have to figure it out yourself. I want the answer to my life to be simple. I want it boxed up like Chinese take-out and handed to me with a big-ass red bow attached. I want to steam roll it, unfold it, and pigeon hole it into something that I can sufficiently deal with. I think most of the worlds problems are indeed philosophical; I know most of mine are. Oh, I can blame them on other things, but when it comes down to it, it's all about how you deal. We can blame politics; it's super easy. Especially with all the absolute bat-shit insanity happening right now. Politics is a roadblock of howler monkeys. As long as there are loud leaders, there will be sheep. I mean people who will follow them. Blaming others, blaming anything but myself for the lack of change in my life, the sheer stagnancy of it, is an escape. It's not working so well anymore.
So, I poured the raven a cup of tea, and we sat and talked about dreams for a while. He asked why I was so unmotivated to make a change, and I couldn't think of a good answer. He called me a loser and I called him a rat-bag-feather-duster. That's when scotch replaced the tea. He said I ought to try doing one amazing incredible thing before breakfast. I said the fact that I got out of bed was amazing, he said no, something else. I said well I don't eat breakfast, so am I off the hook? That's when he bit me. It’s good advice, but hard to follow. What qualifies as amazing anymore? So, I sang Styx “Renegade” at the top of my voice outside wearing playboy bunny slippers and not much else. My neighbors applauded. So did the raven. Apparently that qualified.
What's my first step? How do I change things? I don't know where to begin. I need a new lover, but those seem to be fleeting. If anyone out there knows a sure fire way to make those dicks stay around, let me know. The raven said I ought to try offering them entrails, it always worked for him. That's when I took the damn pajamas off and went to fucking work.