new hobbies

I'm giving up writing. Not that it is stale, or boring, but because I think I am done with it, time to put down the pen and pick something else up. I'm really getting into cooking, it is such an easy craft and something you can take with you anywhere in life, and I really want to start to do some water colour work as well. I am excited about the idea of art school, as a way to develop myself in another area, to learn about the world of colours. Writing about this reminds me of the great little segment in Night on Earth, where a blind woman tells her taxi driver about how she feels colour, and he'll never understand. It was great.

So no more of the writing, it is too frustrating.. I don't enjoy it anymore, and when you lose passion you find something else worthy

hungry

I've got a hankering for

-cheds or pizza shapes, cheds mostly
-a corny vampire film, or one about fallen angels
-a chocolate milkshake
-red lemonade
-a hug

dusk

The last couple of nights have been weird. Whether because it is coming to that time of the month or the weight of gloomy weather, but I sat on my couch last night and cried solidly for a few minutes. I've been feeling the breeze a bit more, the things I want to do, and how much I want to do them, pulling at me, my feelings for someone to whom I'm nothing, and the frustration in my repeating the same fate every week.. being low on money, which stresses me so much. I don't know how to do it.. once groceries are done, necessary buys and rent and paying off some debt... then I'm left with only a bit.. I guess it is my approach to. I could spread it out a little.

I'm doing well, feel a lot better today, don't why the last two days I've been feeling sad for. I think it's my hormones, the week before my doodahs I get moody, emotional.. not a week to watch dead man because then I become fatalistic and far too wistful. Far too thinking I'm beyond the here and now (which sometimes I don't even need art to inspire in me as a feeling) but it is there none the less.

Vellum is a book I'm really enjoying. Some awesome imagery in it. I'd like to read some Tom Robbins now that I have heard a bit more about him.

And I want to write. Write tonight.

I do like getting home at twilight and sitting with the back door open, typing up some ideas. There is something to that hour.

Now, if I can push away the feeling in my gut, tugging, my loving someone, I'll be fine. Just let go..
Move on

blink

my eyelids are heavy. I had a paranoid, worried, frantic sleep last night. I kept having weird dreams that felt like they took all night and I would awake to see I'd only been sleeping half an hour or two hours. Succession of worry, in my head, about work (for no reason really other than some tension), and my friend, and the music in my living room. I love that cd so much, I love it.

I read on wikipedia a description of a song I like, where the writer says " ghost of electricity howling from the bones of Dylan's face..." which I find a great depiction of Dylan in this song. I told someone on the phone about this and he went on raving bitterly that a critic can't describe Dylan that they are putting too much fantasy on him and that is unfair... Isn't that what I'm not there was, what we both loved? One big fantasy, psychedelic dream, parts surreal warp...

so many people are so very negative. I'm so over these people.

kill your darlings

I warp
I wander/Wonder
a heartbeat through the oceans
picked up by sonar script and heart print
a bouncing lunar dance
stretching me out, fingers screaming (now)down a cosmic windscreen.
I steer us closer
and you clutch me undercover
tell me to be a lover
Seek out the hardest thoughts
and crack them to pummel to pulp
you give me wings rather than clip them

Angel, little defiant star