And for your Birthday Viewing Pleasure (and my later dismemberment):
And of course, sacred Birthday Wisdom from Me to You:
Much Love To You Woman,
Angel & J
P.S. Cause J was singing it this way last night to the laptop while we were writing:
Cold cases,
have beginnings,
a middle,
no end.
A something shared.
Yours. Mine. Ours.
I assigned to you.
You assigned to me.
Both Hard Cases,
Cold Cases, where
we can't go back,
prefer to give in.
I lead.
You lead.
Both Lost,
missing Found,
find each other.
The evidence of you...
...evidence of me.
Scattered about,
contaminated by
careless hands.
Hands over hearts,
bullet wounds in chests...
where the assaults -
left us with wounded beats.
Your case.
My case.
Punctuated with
false leads and accusations
that turn me back to you.
Where I offer my wrist to yours
to be handcuffed to mine.
While we serve time for
crimes against self...
and crimes against others.
Both guilty over loves lost.
Our hands stained
in ways,
we fear...
will never come clean.
Hard Cases.
Cold Cases.
You and I.
Where lilacs tag blues,
hands vs. lips
that seek to create
missing case notes,
manufacture new evidence
that absolves us both...
...finds an end.
Where the verdict,
is one,
we can both live with.
But, afraid...
...afraid to be found
as others have said:
"Untouchable. Unlovable. Unclean."
~ Case Closed ~
6.28.08
[A contest entry for Deviant Art]
Yeah, pens of any kind perhaps should not be left in my hands. This is what happens when I attempt to make Art. It's not so pretty. Yeah, not real pretty at all. But...it was edible. Mmmm, potassium.
In the end though, Mr. Banana met his fate. He wound up looking like this:
Though his fate was met with a smile (something I perhaps could've remedied by making a X_x face on the otherside). C.S.I. Fruit was perplexed as at time of autopsy, no innards could they find. The serial banana eater having done what Tasmanian Devils tend to do with their food and eat them from the inside out.
J is right, you can't really take me anywhere.
My apologies to the waitress (but I've been coming there since I was a lil girl, so I know I'll be pardoned. You know me, my condolences on that too) who had to take Mr. Banana back to the morgue to be properly disposed of. There were more photo opportunities available as my writer's mind kicked in and I found ways to make the murder scene more realistic (to J's horror).
Sunday. Sunday. What the Muse does to entertain herself on a Sunday. Yeah, she should not make art in a restaurant...and leave it for discovery by the masses.
- The Banana Killer
S.M.I.L.E.
Something that starts,
first in eyes,
gravitates to lips -
half-cureld,
like my toes
when it appears.
S.M.I.L.E.
A place to hide.
Like arms that,
Curl. Hook. Wrap around.
- Lock -
when we sleep.
My favorite tether.
Tied to you, tied to me.
This...this is what
happens for me,
when you do,
that thing you do,
and just...
S.M.I.L.E.
5.26.08
Character Comment:
When first we met, broken. I could see it in your eyes. Eyes much like mine, pouring pain like syrup over three triangles of French toast and scarfing it down. Just wanting to be lost. Lost and not found.
But...then you did that thing you do. Not a forced one and a bit on the rusty side, but there. I'm sure it wasn't easy, not at first, like arms that had trouble returning warmth, but...you did that too. And though I may not voice it...like that thing that first begins in your eyes, then gravitates to your lips...
I love it when you S.M.I.L.E.
- Ophelia Hayes
[Artwork: S.M.I.L.E. featuring this writing was done by Jolie and can be viewed here.]
So, when I am out and about, I check out chocolatey goodness in her honor. Today this is what I found on Miranda Mae's dessert menu.
This is what I ordered at the end of my lunch.
And Jorie...it was DIVINE!
- Cocoa Goddess Out
PLURK(ing)
Things to do other than work at work.
First it was Twitting, now it's To Plurk.
- The Plurk-u-lating Muse
Bad blogger, yes that's me.
Work. Family. Life.
I will be happy when a slow spell descends, looking forward towards some kind of break. Some kind of distraction.
And no...finally getting my hands on a Wii doesn't count.
Wii-juries
While I enjoy the hell out of it and it makes me look less sketchy if I'm throwing punches in the air using the Wii then doing it on my deck...
Sore.
I am sore.
I hurt in places I can't ever recall hurting.
Oh muscles...
Okay, what used to be muscles.
How you have degraded since High School. :P
- Muse Out
ONE WORD ONLY!
Not as easy as you might think. Now copy, forward, or post this and change the answers to yours and pass it on. It’s really hard to only use one word answers.
1. Where is your cell phone? bed
2. Your significant other? couch
3. Your hair? ponytail
4. Your mother? Pittsboro
5. Your father? Facility
6. Your favorite thing? family
7. Your dream last night? surreal
8. Your favorite drink? alcoholic
9. Your dream/goal? acheived
10. The room you’re in? messy
11. Your ex? asshole
12. Your fear? death
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? pregnant
14. Where were you last night? asleep
15. What you’re not? regretful
16. Muffins? tops
17. One of your wish list items? daughterS
18. Where you grew up? Queens
19. The last thing you did? Importing
20. What are you wearing? Capris
21. Your TV? Discovery
22. Your pets? fed
23. Your computer? burnt
24. Your life? overwhelming
25. Your mood? overwhelmed
26. Missing someone? No
27. Your car? none
28. Something you’re not wearing? socks
29. Favorite store? Amazon
30. Your summer? Moving
31. Like(love) someone? Family
32. Your favorite color? Pink
33. Last time you laughed? yesterday
34. Last time you cried? today
35. Who will re-post this? Cavatica
It's that time of year again in The Pass, where the parks are full of Carnies (insert shudder here), the river is filled with racing boats, the skies are full of fireworks (some legal...others - meh), and our house shakes violently when F-15's do aerial antics down the river and over our house...
This is how you know Boatnik has arrived.
If that wasn't exciting enough - we have (pictured above) hairy-footed stallions who bring beer.
Though (insert sad face here) no beer did they deliver as they passed, though the cries were in the air.
Currently, this battalion of Mr. Ed's (And yes, I know - Mr. Ed was not a Clydesdale) are staying at the park near my home in their pretty-puffy white tent. If you thought walking your dog was a chore, try walking these. They came complete with police escort. A sight indeed, just don't travel too close behind...because as beautiful as they are - I'm sure they leave even more lovely presents in their swishy tailed wake.
Oh parade time, I can only imagine the smiles on the faces of those lucky enough to follow these sinewy butes during the parade. Having once followed behind the Sheriff's Posse while playing a violin (seriously, orchestras should not march in parades) there was some serious high-stepping involved, which would've been great if we'd been playing some jaunty little Hoedown number, but no - it was Mozart. Mozart played while leaping over steaming horse patties and our poor cello player who sat and ran, sat and ran, (somebody following him with a chair) sat and ran in an attempt to keep up...then, slipped and fell.
What he slipped in...well...that was best illustrated by the word that slipped past his lips. A four letter word often used when @$#&!'s gone bad (or going down in his case).
Ah, yes.
Welcome to The Pass Clydesdale's.
Welcome to The Pass.
Photos seen below taken by my coworker Bob, who braved the sidewalk full of people who dove in front of his shots. An arse in this frame, a cheek in that, even an officer as the story goes. Bob the Brave - and his photos were far better than the one I took on my cell phone. I was not as brave as Bob...after the first lady threw herself in front of me, I excused myself back to my desk, before I threw her to the ground. ;)
Chai latteeeeeee.......nnnnnnggggghhhhhhrrmmmm....
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