Tag Archives: writing

I chose a road of passion and pain, sacrificed much and waited in vain…

I’m thinking of writing another book. The title would be Christians Are Weird( yes, that means you too).

I’d push for this photo as cover art:

You get a million imaginary dollars if you can figure out why I've used this photo...

You get a million imaginary dollars if you can figure out why I've used this photo...

But I think I’ll hold off on that until I can write such a thing with love.  Then again, maybe not. I’m pretty sure a book like that would get *published*.

In other news, I’ve been gigging with some friends under the title Delta Buoy Collective…I haven’t shouted myself out in a minute but our myspace is here.

In other other news…y’all who pray…pray for a sista. Please. Thanks.


Who dat is? My baby daddy, that’s just my baby daddy…

So wow, did I ever have a wild weekend. With the intention of meeting up with lots and lots of old friends, I went from church to the Cinco De Mayo festival downtown to the Denver Art Museum to Mad Greens to a very gay bar to a slightly less gay bar to my favorite jazz club into an extremely unfruitful midnight search for brownies to the shower at my grandma’s house to a different church to Popeye’s Chicken to an extremely awkward family gathering.

It was very weird.

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Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue…

My bedroom looks like a tree sneeze.

 Old calendars(but oddly, no new ones), newspaper clippings, books, 2 old copies of The Big Issue that I periodically buy from this be-scarfed woman on Deansgate in hopes that she will one day tell me her name, a half-full box of Christmas cards that I haven’t yet managed to find storage space for, more books, a jumble of cords that belong to something(what, I’m not sure), about 30 random pages of poetry jots, grocery lists, wishful thinking budgets clipped to reality’s receipts, old movie and theatre ticket stubs, the first 5 pages of what I hope will turn into another novel and even more books. All of this, strewn across the floor in drifts and slides and piles. Yuck. Every other day or so, I become obsessed with tidiness and pile it all up in some kind of order based on some arbitrary filing system I’m guaranteed to forget fifteen minutes later, which is probably the reason things are so messy anyway.  I used to have a desk, before that a bigger bedroom. Now I just have a big mess.

My walls are shockingly blank, considering how over-decorated the floor is. I’ve been trying to motivate myself into painting again for over a year now, just so that there can be something on my walls besides nubbly old wallpaper and an aggravating recurring patch of damp that I seem to be bleaching away every other second. For about a million reasons, the biggest one seeming to be no desire to try and do anything visually artistic, I have no art on my walls and a whole lot of extraneous paper on the floor.

 I think I’ve discovered a solution to the problem.

I’m going to buy some Blu-Tac.