Like lighting
There are moments in life, which I imagine to be a bit like getting struck by lightning (only less painful, and without all the damage from burns and whatnot (maybe this is a terrible metaphor, but stick with me.))
There are moments in life, which I imagine to be a bit like getting struck by lightning (only less painful, and without all the damage from burns and whatnot (maybe this is a terrible metaphor, but stick with me.))
If approximately 70% of the adult human body is water, then I wonder how much is required to lubricate the imagination? I wonder how much liquid is necessary to allow neurons to glide into unexpected constellations, sparking new thoughts, like particles colliding in a nebula, creating chain reactions and eventually, stars.
A week ago last Thursday, or someday thereabouts (time has been moving oddly lately, rushing past in great swathes, or forming itself into dollops, expanding the minutes and contracting the hours as they fall past my gaze, or else slowing down all together to a pace where I feel I can see the motes of…
Come, lie with me in the garden… As the evening pours a gentle, silken breeze across our skins, and the flowers shine jewel-bright in borders, bees buzz, scent spills, oh, come and breathe it in. Hear the swifts shrieking under arching skies, still further up, the clouds cast shapes and shadows in constant flux –…
Is there a danger to weaving words to accompany half-formed thoughts? Is there potential for something to slip through the holes in the net where the edges don’t meet, and the words soldier on regardless, trying to crochet their way valiantly around the nothingness? Everything is something (maybe) but time is money and money is…
It’s been so long since I’ve written anything of substance, I think I’ve forgotten how it goes. This isn’t another “I’m staring at a blank screen, with the cursor winking and winking, taunting me with my lack of inspiration…” posts – in truth, I feel rather apprehensive about it, as though the cursor might, at…
“Hey baby, I could be your drug; I could be your new addiction…” Everybody Talks – Neon Trees If, in light of recent atrocities, you find it gauche that I’d write about something as frivolous as my ongoing (and yet somehow still brand new) battle with sugar and shape, then this place is either somewhere…
Excuse my freneticism and the fact I’m not sure ‘freneticism’ is even a word. I tried to explain it earlier – if you could imagine a person bug-eyed with excitement and spinning in circles, making a noisy *SQUEEEEEEEEEE* sound; that’s me, on the inside, right now. On the outside I’m just sat here, typing. This…
When I mentioned to WonderAunty that Dana’s latest link-up required me to list the ways I’m quirky, she grinned a glinty-eyed kind of grin (the kind I often grin), and she laughed under her breath. It was the kind of glinty-eyed grin I could have taken affront to (had I not known that she loves…
Last time I wrote, I told you I was on the move, and so I am. Things are changing around here, and whilst I’m astonished at the propensity of ‘achievement’ to look like ‘mess’, I am very pleased that there *is* movement, and things are getting done. Because often, lately, it’s felt like I’ve made…