it's a dirty story of a dirty man.

Writing a book is hard.

Robert Motherwell Lyric Suite 1965

This Bird Has Flown

I am fixing to write a book.

Not really with the aim to have anyone read it. Certainly not to have anyone buy it.

More as an outlet for the wanderings of my ADD brainwaves.

It will be about a girl who lives her life in a cubicle. She doesn't have much going for her outside of the daily grind, little to content herself with but fantasy romance and cooking for one. Going to work perpetually remains the pinnacle of her day, email conversations with faceless coworkers the brunt of her social life.

Now, I know what you are thinking, but rest easy. This will not be a reflection of my own personal angsts and complaints. I have friends, sometimes, and a cat who makes me smile, usually.

This girl doesn't.

Anyhow, this story will document how this girl falls slowly into the clutches of insanity. And how no one will notice.

She will hallucinate the days away inside her cubicle walls, making friends with computer icons and defeating the dark lord of spam mail. And she is going to love it. It will be the first and best adventure she has ever had.

Who of us would welcome insanity?

Dorothea Tanning The Philosophers 1952

working(wo)man's blues

PS. Don't blog at work. It's bad form.

Or so they tell me.

*Yawn*

Until tomorrow, friends. xx

Come Fly With Me, Let's Fly, Let's Fly Away

In. A. Rut.

Someone tell me something interesting.

Better yet, someone take me on an adventure.

(See what I did there? Placing my future in the hands of the anonymous and almighty “someone”? My inherent, unwavering boredom is NOT MY FAULT*.)

"Okay, okay, let’s move to …" *spins globe*

*Note: Caps = self deprecating non-truths

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want

I'm fairly certain that this day wasn't real.

Lee Friedlander, Baltimore, Maryland, 1962

Now we can do all of the things I felt bad about doing when I loved you.

I'm coming back. Stand by.