Saturday, August 29, 2009

Gordian's Knot

In my past life, I was a witch who did not disown my craft, so that my daughter would know integrity.

In my past life, I was a witch who disowned my craft, so that my daughter would have a mother.

Both my daughters suffered.

In this life, I laugh with a cackle and not take anything too seriously so that my daughter will know how to laugh despite suffering. 

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Sia - Day Too Soon (Acoustic)

I ran away, I ran away from good...
I finally got to see SIA perform live at Mich Fest. Never expected to see her there and she was brilliant, complete with rolled rrrr's and coupled l's meant for the ear of a lover. hehehe. I love her albums and dare say I loved her live even more. She's an odd duck too which makes me love her more.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Boring post

I always find it hard to work on structured pieces for submission. This week's attempt, a prose piece themed derogatory. Hence my last post. We will see what happens.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Pop Machine: Lost the Original in Free Thought

The pop machine is buried in the basement at my job. Needing an alternative to hot coffee, I decide its time for some cool and refreshing caffeine to burn the throat just the way I like it and head down. There are two pop machines actually, three if you want to count the water machine poorly lit in the corner like a mocking joke. I do not count it. The spider web collecting dust hugging the side of the water machine and the wall encroaching on the coin slot leads me to believe others do not count it as well. Something else to note about the pop machine, I mean machines, is that they often hold onto the money without dispensing the soda-crack of choice. At any given point, usually on the weekends when I work, a plethora of sticky notes with scribbles of people’s names, work locations and amount are tacked to the machines. I personally like to read them to see who fed the machine more then once for their crack. The record amount was $5 (pop cost $1.25) in 2007 and hasn’t been breeched since, at least not on my watch. I don’t think the person was an idiot for trying four times to get their fix, though logic would suggest this. Sometimes the machines start to work again and it’s been known they will pay out like a slot machine, showering the lucky recipient with bottles and bottles of pop. But this is a rare occurrence. Most times you might just get two pops for the price of one or add your name to the list of folks who were going for the jack pot.  Thank goodness someone at some point filed a grievance about these perfunctory machines of error with the union and HR has to reimburse us. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have something to read while I get my soda. Of course, I always wonder why HR didn't just replace these machines instead of paying someone to spend work hours to fill envelops with a one dollar bill and a quarter and walk to each office reimbursing us.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Sketchbook: Sundry Steps on a Marrow’d Path

I fumble with rooks in my palm. Flipping each between my fingers like a panhandler with a quarter,I slip my tips into their bare underbelly one at a time. Becoming their marrow, I tap my thimbles against the desk. The queen remembers her fear of exposure while sifting through the first spring of hope. Everything we did was done again down to the words said. I ask myself if there is solace in knowing it was all just a Xeroxed copy of us. Illuminescent eyes while sucking the honey dripping. Sigh. Plucking each rook off the fingers one at a time, sucking in my breath, I command them each to take two steps forward. I call out my horsemen next to ride this night sky and bring me back the king.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

the land: MWMF

Serendipity keeps me coming back, colliding against the soul cleansing the blood of the dust bunnies collected over the year. Don’t get me wrong, even the land is the sum of the energy we call towards our selves as misery can buy a ticket too. My own ticket transpires my herstory from young dum kid to young somewhat insightful woman, marking the chapters through the arch of change that experience has a way of creating. All I know is that serendipity greets me every time I come. My crossroads seem to begin and end here. I don’t mean to babble on as though it’s a magical space and place like a mystic promising enlightenment over walked on coals. All I know is that I have been in love with the land for 8 years now and am beginning to think I always will.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Thoughts from the land

A throng of us sat around in the campfire circle babbling on like a brook that has over run its bank sharing parts of our lives in gushing layers.

to be continued...

Sunday, August 2, 2009


The rain, a steady trickle, washes out the heat that could have come today. I am waiting to get ready for a wedding. My role, the date. I try to blend in the backdrop, the odd gal out. Living life like a carnaval, I didn't notice I was the patron. I thought like my grandfather I was the carnie worker. See the callouses on my palms? The worn grey in the lining of my clothes? A panhandler of charm, it is my role to prove to you my acceptance. But I don't want to today. My heritage betrays me and today I want you to charm me.

(Reviewing all the unpublished prose. Guess this one is okay to go public).