Monthly Archives: December 2009

I didn’t know it was a harry potter quote until I googled it for credits. oh, mla, what have you done to me.

With the exception of some bumping and grinding (hah. i kid) during a weekend stint in vegas, it has been three weeks since I have danced. THREE. Which means I have missed no less than five (six?) practices and what was (evidently) the most bomb-ass workshop ever.

And that really is the cherry on top of an outlet-less pastthreemonths week.

I know it may sound like I’ve become a whiney little bitch, but that was only because I was acting like a whiney little bitch.

I digress in my homage to Mean Girls.

There is always something I can do, I have to help myself, pack up my shit and move somewhere far, get off mama’s couch, yadda yadda. It’s not like I don’t know all that. But sometimes, all you need is a good deep wallow in self-pity.

Fortunately, this is not the time for it.

It’s slowly coming back. The rhythm, the flow, the vocabulary, the voice, the innuendos, all now helped with a healthy sprinkling of cuss words and a dusting of not-so-PG references.

It feels good. Raw. Like the color of beets raw.

Like while I was taking a break from the tedious work of patching together a cover letter, it happened. There is now something brewing in that highly sought after, not often found, fleeting cauldron (Penseive?) of my muse.

But it goes away too. I just came back from taking Mowgli out for his nightly walk, and in between thinking about the possibility of a blister on my pinky and how it might start to rain any second, it left.

And so, let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.

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Sometimes, i think that storing things underneath my bed is a bad idea. Other times, i feel like a space-conscious squirrel.

Like today, for instance. I was looking for an old sketchbook that i was certain i had not thrown out during the Great Purge of Past Schoolwork from Underneath the Bed. And i was write right. My hands are a little dustier and I am in need of a good pencil (pens are better for writing. permanent, you see) but let us embark on a short journey to create the Nekobus. This is stemming from an idea (or perhaps,  just bad peripheral vision) that happened on the freeway to… somewhere. the City, perhaps. But it was still early for Christmas – early enough that i had not yet seen cars hauling bound christmas trees on the highway yet. There was an SUV-ish car with a large tree strapped to its roof, with the tip of the tree hanging over the back of the car. And for that wonderous split second, i thought there was a gigantic cat perched on top of the car.


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And here we are again

Am in a generally hyper mood. Woke up this morning to the cutest face in the world waiting for me to wake up and play. Admit that after a two week hiatus was afraid he would have forgotten me. Or at least, found someone to replace me as his venerable and all-powerful leader (aka someone else to walk and feed and cuddle him).

Being at home is weird. Last night it was bittersweet, but today its just weird. I feel like I’ve crammed an entire quarter into a week and a half vacation. Also. I feel like the older I am, the harder it is to leave home. But once I’ve left, its harder to come back too. Does that make sense? no? Hookah smoking caterpillar? Who R U? What?

There are a lot of things to think about, and its strange, really,  how skimming the bubbles off of a fish head stew puts things into perspective. And since that neither sounds delectable nor makes any sense at all, I leave you with possibly my favorite quote ever.

“Or maybe this is all pure gibberish – a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out there where the real winds blow – to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested… Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.”

– Hunter S. Thompson

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