April 30, 2005
if you give a monkey a wig...
...you might get a punkey,
or... My son, the supermodel!
April 25, 2005
to the rescue!(Episode II)
HIIIIAAAAAHHHHHH!!! Sambenzam heroically leaps to Kook's defense with his marvelous archery,
then, the coup de gras with Ratcrist, ratcreature's Bane.
Aiiieeee!!! Rat creature!(Episode I)
In our very own yard!
It's spied one of it's favorite snacks, a small mammal!
Oh, no! Will curiousity kill the cat? Is this to be the disastrous end of our beloved Kook?!
April 22, 2005
mmmmm... feels like summer
I love when the nights turn warm like this. So nice to be able to stroll home from work tonight, with the sun setting over the gorgeous, pinkblooming dogwoods, just a skirt and top on and be perfectly warm-even right down to my usually chilly feet.
Yay for summer and that heavenly warm breeze blowing so sweeeeetly under my skirt this evening. No more layers and layers of sweatersncoats, time for tanktops and sundresses!
April 19, 2005
what Sam likes...
Penny architecture. Our humble attempts are not nearly so elaborate and cool, but were inspired by this guy
Thanks, D, for the excellent hook-up.
I forsee many thrilling hours of penny construction in my near future.
April 18, 2005
A weapon in the making:
runes engraved by elven queen,
a name to strike terror into the hearts of rat creatures(and indeed, it glows in the dark to warn it's bearer of their loathsome presence-you rock, Michael!)
Thus a blade worthy of a king is created.
For a gallant young elven prince to wield mightily.
With much HIIIIIAAAAAHHHHing! And SSSHHHHIIIIINNGGGing(as it leaves it's currently only imaginary, scabbard.
Ratcrist suffered it's first battle scar within moments of the forging... On the way home we were set upon by a rabid, evil garage-the tipmost tip broke off in the gutwound(at least, I think that was it's gut), slaying the fearsome beast instantly.
Ah... so the legend grows. The sword that was broken shall be reforged, another adventure-strewn day when we return at last to the Great Hall of Making and offer up our plea to the Lord Michael, for the defense of our beloved northwest lands.
Ratcrist, sword of legend, famous destroyer of rat creatures, was forged yesterday:
There was much heroic sawing,
a crossbrace was created.
noble designs enscribed....
April 15, 2005
silly faggot, dicks are for girls!
had a lovely evening with my friend Sharon. She made me a simply spectacular stuffed garbanzo crepe dinner, good snuggling, talking and we watched 'But I'm a Cheerleader' while she pressed some acupuncture points on my footses. It's a fairly hilarious movie wherein Ru Paul(not in drag) plays an 'ex-gay' intervention squad leader, trying to reform gay kids in a bizarre, Stepfordlike summer camp.
I left feeling much better and less premenstrually homicidal-maybe those points she was stimulating on my feet really did some good.
On the way home, I was feeling good and eager for bed, driving pretty fast.
It took me a few minutes to catch on to the fact that the purty colored lights flickering on behind me meant: Pull over now! and the driver they were referring to was ME!
First time for everything I guess.
Nice officer though, just rolled down her window and said:
'The speedlimit's 30, not 50, ma'am.'
me: uh... Sorry.
me: yes... ma'am.
April 14, 2005
right now, I'd like to jump out this second floor window and run screaming and bleeding down the street...
But I'm sure nobody would even notice. That sort of thing is business as usual on the ave.
Besides, I have a client in about 15 minutes, and hysterical mania isn't very professional.
So, instead, I'll take a deep breath(or ten), calm down and go give some good, therapeutic massage.
can you miss someone you don't even know?
I've never spoke a word to her, she was just always there, before me.
Her solid, stolid form reassured me that I hadn't missed my bus for those last few precious minutes in bed. She was comfortingly familiar, part of the backdrop of my new workday morning routine.
I'd show up hastily, with my steaming cup of tea(if I hadn't forgotten it on the counter as I did a few times, burying my freezing hands in my copious pockets and cussing in the chill of the morning air) and there she'd be, standing calmly with her plastic airline bag(?) in one hand and her gorgeous, ornate brown leather purse with amber gems on it's patterned flap flung over her shoulder.
I wondered about her sometimes, she looked slavic, russian perhaps, short dark hair and pudgy face. Her clothes were ordinary office wear, except for her magical bag and her shoes-which pointed like an elf's.
I wondered where she worked, what was in the plastic bags she always carried, how many pointy shoes were lined up on the floor of her closet.
We never said anything to each other, just maintained a casual, matter-of-fact silence, watching the yoga ladies hurry through the blowing dust of the construction zone with their mats clutched to their chests as we waited for the 65 to come.
I guess she got herself a car, or a different job or something.
Odd, to miss a stranger.
April 12, 2005
a quiet moment...
...amidst the mayhem.
Spring break is here and Rowan is upon us. Three days of Rowan and Sam at full throttle and the house is rendered unsafe-it's very floor lava to burn and swallow unsuspecting feet!
We'll have to tread carefully in our new lava-retardant socks or else pull the adult card-adults being too stolidly sure of their own plodding reality to notice that the hitherto solid floor has morphed into a blazing pit of death.
It's been a fun week and a full house.
the gentle pattering that we went to sleep with swelled gradually, sometime during the night hours, a hard rain began to slash against the panes.
Perhaps it was the forceful turmoil of that ceaseless lashing wetness, drumming the roof, the walls, the window of my small bedroom that shoved my consciousness roughly out of it's warm, urgent dream of comingled flesh, fingers hot against my mouth, eager, familiar trespass of boundaries so lately drawn firm around me. Unasked for, unwanted now, but coming again and again as if in mockery of all the endeavors of my independance.
And, perhaps in the end it all comes to nothing.
But a nothing like that could span miles, huge and ugly, a monsterous nothing, a flaming bridge, a welter of popping sparks and ashes...
So I put it from my mind, 'cause there's more to life than falling from love. Even if you're a serial love addict, a junkie perhaps... There's always a new leaf to turn, a new story to write, a new cock to-
No. Not quite.
Soon perhaps? says my body, stirring rivulets of interest, surprised and excited by the rains vehemence. My mind lazily contemplates the idea... Spinning it round like a slightly-only slightly-unripe pear at the grocery store. Looking at one side, then the other, judging color and heft, hand to hand, tenderly fingering, testing for firmness or yielding.
It's cold outside tonight. The streetlights glisten in my downpours tiny rivulets, streaming, shivering, lingering in puddles and splashing down drains...
It's all the same to water.
April 11, 2005
the art of Tom Giffen
My friend Tom just updated his website with some exquisite new paintings he made in Spain.
His work has always had an ethereal quality, like an entry to another realm, a beaconing into fairyland... Now it positively glows, radiant as a world made of gems.
Definately worth a lingering browse.
April 08, 2005
smacked my face on the heavy, rebounding library door today.
I had just time to go home, grab a bag of frozen peas and head off for my walk to work.
Got some pretty funny looks from passerbys too. One kid stared at me the whole block... Never seen a woman with a bag of peas on her face before I guess. At least it kept the swelling down. Just a slight purple bruise forming so far, luckily. I won't have to wear dark glasses like a battered wife...
Got a bit of a headache out of it and, damn, my shoulder hurts from the flinching impact of it.
Oh well, the damage could certainly be worse...
And I have a date with a cute boy tonight, so things are looking up.
April 07, 2005
it's definately Seattle out there
I just got absofockinglutely SOAKED walking home from work.
Talk about april showers! But we don't have to wait for may for the flowers... There's a magnificence of dogwood, lilac, ornamental cherry(like gigantic, fluffy pink clouds, those babies), azaleas and rhodies out there all spreading their multitudinous offerings for the bees n' butterflies...
Soppy wet flowers... Aaaah...
Now I just have to change my pants.
OK, what's up? The moon is not full, I'm not menstruating... Why, oh God, am I awake right now?!
S'no fair. I was damn tired tonight too, after four hours of massaging... I even tucked into my nice velvety purple bed with a soothy cuppa chamomile and a fabulous new book.
By rights I should be happily snoozing my head off dreaming of large women(random, inappropriate movie ref: anyone remember?) right now.
But no, instead, I'm a mess of sweaty, hot, sticky thoughts and I'm throwing off the covers and I'm singing my siren song and I'm eyeing the shiney, seductively rounded knobs of my hard, wooden bedposts with a distinctly feral feline gleam.
The left angle of my temporo-mandibular joint is wired so tense tonight, like an egg boiled too fast, it may split, rending multiple zigzagging pencil-tip thin cracks all over my cranium.
Perhaps then I will forget how horny I am and stop melting holes in my nice comfy mattress.
Perhaps then, as my brains leak out slowly and majestically I will gently succumb to sleep at last.
But I think not.
It is far more likely that I will chew the inside of my left cheek ragged and think many, many thoughts that would be better left unthought and sit dripping at my computer in my dark bedroom, hair hanging down over my pale, knobbly knees, drawn up to my chin and tap, tap, tap on my keyboard 'til it howls my howls and moans my moans...
Yeah, that's about the size of it.
P'raps it's the new moon, maybe I'm ovulating and the she-wolf between my legs wants to run out under that dark moon and race the glittering, black streets in search of a mate worth breeding...
Some shaggy, powerful beast, strong enough to overtake her sleek headlong flight and fierce enough to slake her thirst for domination-matching her thrust for thrust and growl for growl in the dark, cold grass by the side of the road that soft, unsuspecting city-dwellers will stroll along the next day, sipping their lattes and chattering like monkeys on their cell phones.
Spent, she returns to me, coils like a hot water bottle against the small of my back and warms my dreams with her puppy-like whimpers of satisfaction.
Dreams which sometimes spread themselves out at my fingertips as though I could string them together into a coherent tapestry of understanding. Thus could I capture, and hold up before me the timewoven story of my life.
Grasping the essential truths of being human and opening wide all the hitherto denied possibilities of my self.
Dreams flee from the rational waking mind. They cannot be approached head on... Rather one must look at them askew, with gentle-focus, sleep-muddled eyes, inviting, not demanding their unfolding guidance.
Dreams are absurd, but are seldom as stupid and blind as reality can be.
Have I said enough?
Probably. Or not nearly enough. But even if I talked myself hoarse and unpeeled right here and right now to the very core of my being, I would still be asking:
Can I sleep now, God?
April 05, 2005
pennies from heaven
Monitary art, by Zan, Sam n' Nate.
It was an heroic endeavor, and like all great works of man, ended in scattered ruin.
April 03, 2005
truth, or fiction?
she entered his folded reams, that confused, bitter, brilliant space...
Gracefully, like swelling music or good massage. Tender tendrils smoothing the discordant ropes. Sweet tickling
Quiet, dauntless, how stubbornly she found the heart of the matter, stretching, spreading, widening, wiggling loose knots...
Lashing out didn't break her. Friction melted stricken lines of tension and smarting red marks blushed. Shameless, she begged for more. Teasing boldly, serving proudly, giving herself wholly up to him. There was simply no stopping her, no withholding the flow, the vulnerable, powerful force of her.
She said it even as he misfired for the last time, his excruciating refusal overwhelming all her endeavors, rending, rendering the truth invalid.
No brutal ending, no illicit strategy, no monstrous betrayal will ever vanquish this uncommon, indomitable,
now, how did that get there?
Sawdust-in my bellybutton.
Sheesh, the hazards of being an artist!
'Nite, all. Don't forget to spring forward.
I've started on the bedcarving project!
Craigslist rocks! I asked for help in the artists forum and I've gotten ever so much helpful advice... Not to mention meeting a totally cool artist who has a great big studio downtown chock-a-block with extremely cool equipment-all kindsa saws, sanders, carvers and a lathe!
I spent the evening sanding(on a lathe, it's a bit like being hooked up to some sorta aerobiciser machine jiggling off pounds), gouging, carving while negotiating for foot space with the rebar he's welding into a bondage cage for a friends dungeon, listening to great music and looking at some really pretty nakedlady art. He has quite a collection of books on the subject, not to mention his own.
We decided there needs to be a book on the great artists of history, entitled: 'Hanging out with Naked Women'. 'Cause, really, that's what it's all about.
Um, no offense meant to all the loverly painters of landscapes and still-lifes and wildlife...
It seemed funnier at the time.
Oh well. I could definately spend some serious time there-it's a good thing too, 'cause this is turning into a project of epic proportions...
Luckily, mojitos and munchies are available right next door, for those frustrating moments when the gouge slips, the wood is stubborn, or we just need a bit of a break.
April 01, 2005
all I have to say today is-
-girls are soft, so soft, warm, salty and...