"I'm putting this on my blog!"

Goodness Gracious

Floral Surprise

If you left a yellow dahlia on my porch, sing out. Gifts are lovely, but when they're anonymous, it's a little creepy.

Omens

All sorts in the street, out in the world. Motorcyclists circling my block, a loud and angry murder. Ants rising out of the earth. A perpetual ambulance. Bird shit like a swath across my street, failure of imagination. I saw a truck with a picture of a truck on it. The smell of grain from the looming temple of Ishtar down the block, capped and bound by the flag on its roof.

I ascribe to these things no un- or super- or preter- natural significance, but I respect things they evoke from the habitat of human community. I made an offering today, tried to appease the narrative of my neighborhood. I'm taking myself out of it temporarily, 'till I feel up to going toe-to-toe.

I hope you're OK, Mr. Chartreuse.

Walpurgisnacht

AWFUL day...just terrible. I really had high hopes for this month. At this rate, I'm going all Discordian Calendar. Watch out for the Discoflux.

Waxing

My body's betrayed me on at least three levels lately, my budget's in the toilet, and to top it all off, I haven't got anything going that even resembles a sleep schedule. I take no small pride in being able to sleep like a corpse even in the worst of times, so this isn't just interfering with my day, it's pissing me off. Also, I've had to upgrade/install a whole bunch of new people lately, and my life is fucking complicated enough.

And what freaks me out most is that I've been smiling all day. I'm thrilled, hopeful, chipper. Got up this morning and cleaned my house, mowed my lawn. Enjoyed the sun. I made homemade corn dogs for dinner (they were great). I can't seem to reconcile reality and how I feel-but it's OK. I regularly have these deep, black moods that have nothing to do with how my life actually is. I'm comfortable having a symmetrical peak to my illogical troughs. Heh.

See you tomorrow.

I think my job is trying to kill me.

Literally-I may have broken my toe today, and I have never been subject to so many injuries, indignities and simple assaults on my psyche. It's like one big attempted murder that's cutting my paychecks.

I speak the language of muffins. I know their poetry...and their prose.

I've been practicing my Huggery

March's Marginal Marjoram Margarine

This post, such as it is, is to protect my margins. The video below sprawls uncomfortably over my blog's text and context. Watch it though, it's spectacular.

As opposed to Czech-tacular, like some days I spent recently, and the things over which I was slavering*.

I have had a reap-the-whirlwind sort of month. It's not done yet, I know, but three weeks of April feels like January and February put together. My memory is that March of last year was full of sound and fury. This year, it's April, the cruelest month (if you are, or ever meet, a woman named April, remember that "Cruelest Month" makes a great nichename), which leads me to believe that my personal astro-and-horo logical circumstance wanders through the year like a movable feast, or a Jewish Month. This is fine.

I have a calendar, wholly fictitious, that renders the months around the moon's cycles, so each day of the month (from moon, I think) contains the same phase of the moon. I much prefer my moon cyclical without being regular. Quicksilver, not dead-silver, you know.


*this description is entirely inaccurate...but it's an excellent pun, which gives it a sort of narrative truth where I'm concerned...as opposed to some of you, who shouldn't be at all at my use of the language.