Sometimes, I read blogs. Not very often, and not very consistently. But I do. And I think, 'Holy Hell, I could do this better... oh wait. I do have a blog! I just don't write in it! Because that would take follow through, dedication, a lack of a yammering inner critic who won't shut her damn pie hole. I digress.

If you are still reading, thank you. If you are still reading and hoping that I will write regularly, seriously THANK YOU. Light a candle for me, say a prayer that I will follow through this time.

xo

k

Am debating about changing the location of this blog (from blogger to wordpress for example).

Am pretty sure that said change would have a steep learning curve and would be time consuming.

Think I should write rather than design.

Feel free to weigh in with advice and opinions.

Hello! I haven't written on here in quite awhile. I also haven't painted, taken a photo, twisted metal into jewelry, or sown more than a button. It's hard to write. It's hard to be creative. There's so many other things that vie for my attention. Dishes to wash, stores to shop, sites to surf, tv to watch. Who wants to cocoon themselves away with the frustrating solitaire of creativity?

Well, I do. Sort of. Sometimes. I want to tell stories and produce things. I wish there were a way to turn of the critic inside my head. The one who is so hard to outrun. She is on my back and it's rare that the speed of my thinking drowns out her cackling.

Do you know what I think every writer should do? Read. An artist cannot go through the world blindfolded, how can an author not read? I don't understand that. Maybe I can justify this lack of produce as a time of fallow. A time to let crops grow. A time to gather material. Ah, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Press publish. Shut self up. Produce produced.

her complexion is pale with malnutrition,
cheeks and skin painted back to health with a deft hand

perfectly sooted lashes frame deadened eyes

and she pays good money, to ink up the flesh
she just sold to you

Commercial Lust...

Me want the pretty pretties...

http://ifitshipitshere.blogspot.com/2009/07/artist-decorated-brain-buckets-raise.html

I use my bike as my primary mode of transportation. Problem is, I HATE wearing a helmet. I do it. I do it the way that I quit smoking, despite not wanting to. With a helmet like these I may change my tune.

barefoot

In my fancy shoes I tower over his modest height, bringing me from above average to amazon.

"You are not the kind of girl who needs to wear heels"

I slip one off and sink down 4 inches.

"Better?"

"Yep"

"Now all I need is to be pregnant and in the kitchen"

He raises his eyebrows

"You know that saying right?"

"Yeah, I do, I'm just not hungry right now"

hope

will you be..
..the leaf caught
...eyelash blown
....penny tossed
will you be the wish that comes true?