Semi-Daily Scribbles

blue friday

cool weather makes a blue friday better. pull on some spirit. wear ya hair big. this rowdy crowd of 1 looks like a mix of medusa and rudolph. optical illusions for the win.

Don't hang on. Climb.

Petra won't have to stare at spreadsheets for 10 hours a day anymore. Accepting that job at the equipment place was one of her more stupid moves. Petra is a talker and a fixer and a can't-sit-down-for-long kind of gal. She must be seen and heard while she is seeing and hearing everything going on around her. That's entertainment! That's just her brain. Turbulence and an increased heart rate gets Petra to give her best. So what if she's on an adventure to deal with frustrated people who can't muster 500 Mbps at their house at the end of the logging road several miles off the interstate? For Petra, life is dull without change and challenges. Toss in a pile of cranky customers and Petra will have her fill of c-words in no time. Criminy!

Hey Billie!

So here's what I wanted to tell you the other day in Piggly Wiggly => => More people need to make art for medicinal purposes. Cheap therapy! But does that art always have to be labeled with a $9.99 sticker and set out on the shelves? Ask yourself: Would someone who does not live inside my head be interested in My Thing? Am I going to foist my interpretive dance on you and then get all bent out of shape when there's no applause? Yes/No? Remember...everyone is nice and nobody cares. Do it for you or just don't do it. Go whittle or doodle or warble or snap. Magic happens when you make stuff.

p.s.
Ta-da! Like a Raisin Pie shows up on your doorstep. Hope you like :)

qp

Dawn

[monsters hold down jobs] Some days you feel these steps have been laid out for you and you're slowly catching up with a predetermined outcome. [dawn is a hollow promise] I dare you to take a wrong turn. Just can't happen. Walk...run...[a shot in the dark] Makes no difference at all. You'll get there in the end.

Official Motto

Busy, busy bee. Mother of all industry. If it's true we write what we know, best to know as much as possible. One needs something quote worthy to say when one's work is called "a shabbily disguised conversion story." Either own the act of disciple-making, or close up shop. People say they prefer the truth, but there will always be an audience for well-spoken lies.

Queasy Does It

For those following along, My Five Star Heart goes to the work that is fiercely authentic. I like it when My Own Private Icky Button is pushed by bloodlust and love's grotesqueries. Poetry that comes in great gushes and not dribbles. Make your piece so ugly it's pretty by sheer effort. Make me queasy and I'll put another nickel in the slot. Anything less than uncomfortable is forgotten before the end credits roll.

Sounds like ...

Sure Corrie felt shitty reading her big sister's diary. Did feeling like a degenerate make Corrie put away what wasn't hers and go do something productive like laundry? Hell no. All of the people Shelley wrote about in her big red book were thinly disguised real folk, like too-close-to-home-folk. Like who could this bitchy character called "Lorrie" possibly be? The queen at the center of this sweeping mega fantasy--five-sided love polygon--family drama was a beautiful brown-eyed maiden who answered to the name "Sherrie." Corrie had just read the passage where "Sherrie" discovered her sister, "Lorrie," in bed with "Sherrie's" on again/off again fiancé, Patrick. Corrie laughed. Patrick was Patrick. Shelley didn't give him a soundalike name. Corrie considered the significance of this particular authorial choice as she tucked the big red book under her arm and headed downstairs to heat up her leftover chicken and pasta.

INSTASHAM

 

Nowadays everyone's a narcissist. Is it even considered a personality disorder anymore? Narcissism seems like the norm. Fashionable, even. Good stuff to ruminate on, this. #justcurious #okmaybenot

Good Show

So after the Swing Sisters rope and yodel their way through the dictionary with harp and hand saw, a palate cleanser is needed. Ah, I spy the goddess in position under the harsh, hot spotlight. She's a spray-painted vision in red. The goddess spins on pedicured toes and recites Joyce in her nasally voice and all is well with the right hemisphere and the left. Anyhow, it's all a show above and below. There's only one way to get to the top. Dig deep.

Open Opuses

A spark arced across the wire. A lady wants me to pay her $10.00 if I want to read her online scribbles/blog/magnum opus/un mémoire thing. It's a one-time fee but I will pass on the opportunity. I'm sure she's very nice, though perhaps a bit tipsy. Go here if you need something to read, boys and girls.

May The 4th Be With You.