Monday, October 28, 2013


Good morning, gentle readers.
Well, as some of you may have surmised by now, I am a homeowner.  I closed on the condo about a week ago and have been busy putting things to right with it ever since. 
I've had a veritable parade of repair/service men marching through the place: plumbers, appliance repair men, HVAC service men. More will come through after all the repairs are finished. It needs new carpet and new paint and then, finally, furniture.
In case any of you are wondering, I'm basically living on the floor.  This is not a shock to me, as I've been living on the floor for over a year.  I've gotten used to it. 
One can get used to anything.
Like the fact that writing has taken a back seat to everyday life. I'm hoping that once the place is 'finished' and everything is ship-shape, that I'll be able to get back to a decent writing schedule.
Well, I hope so at any rate.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Confession of a Mass Murderer

Today, I poisoned my enemies.
I used gas.
I gassed them twice. Once in the morning and once in the afternoon.
I'm told gas is a dreadful way to die, but I can't muster much sympathy for my fallen foes.
Although, if I'm being perfectly honest, I must admit to a tingle of superstitious apprehension.
Killing crickets is supposed to be bad luck.
Camel crickets.
They were infesting the storage closet of the condo I now own. 
This morning, when the locksmith came over to rekey the locks, I asked him if he could open the storage closet.  When he did, when the light poured into the dark, the air was filled with frantically jumping bodies, little bolts of drab brown leaping helter skelter to escape the light.
"Good lord," I said. "I could open a goddamn bait shop!"
The locksmith thought that was funny.
After he had left, I drove down to the home store and bought a three pack of poison foggers.  I've used two.
The first seemed effective. Crickets, roaches and spiders were clawing their way from beneath the door of the storage closet, to twitch and convulse on the back patio. I watched them from inside the house, physically repelled by their very presence.
I don't like bugs.
I'm not afraid of them, I'm just intensely disgusted by them.  By their waving antennae and the skittering-skritching sound so many of them make as they rush across a wall or floor.
I don't know how many I killed today, but I've got a third fogger waiting to be used tomorrow.
I look forward to using it.
I really do.

Monday, October 14, 2013

The Poetry of Twitter

Good morning, gentle readers.
The other day someone asked me, "Are you still writing?"
"Yes," I said.
"Where is it?" they asked.  "Kindle?"
"No. It's mostly been on Twitter."
Which, as you can imagine, caused this person's eyebrows to rise in surprise.
Who could blame her?
What can you possibly write on Twitter? How can you write anything when you're limited to 145 characters? Including spaces?
Actually, you can do a lot with that amount of space.

For example:
Diane thought marrying Tom would make her happy. 
It didn't.
What did make her happy, was killing him.
Prison was totally worth it.

The above doesn't even use all 145 characters allowed on Twitter.

Honestly, though, I don't write much twitfic these days.  Instead, I'm all about the haiku.

Trees dance with the wind
Tossing leaves aside in bliss.
Autumn is a joy.


They sit in grand halls,
Dusty gray souls in hard skins.
The politicians.

So, yes, I am still writing, I'm just writing poetry, not prose.
When will I get back to writing stories?
Sometime soon I think.
I can feel that old impulse sluggishly stirring, like some great sea monster starting to climb up out of the depths.
Soon, I think.


Gentle readers, as I write this, the blog has just wracked up 3400 pageviews.  Thanks to everyone for all the support, visits, shares and good vibes.  Honestly. This could not have happened without the assistance of all of you.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Black Heart

I stand in the dark,
in the black heart of myself,
and do not know "Me."

My wants, needs, desires
are whispers lost in the dark.
Strange, laughing voices.

The truth of myself,
a flickering, pallid light,
lost somewhere out there.

Visible. Distant.
A star to set my course by.
Shimmering. Fading.

Invisible now,
lost to sight, but still out there,
waiting to be seen.

The dark surrounds me,
created by me, spun from me,
a spider’s black web.

I am my own foe,
implacable and deadly,
eager to break me.

But I have heroes,
biding their time, waiting to strike,
when my star returns.

Its light is their light.
The darkness can only hide them.
It cannot break them.

It cannot break me.
Not unless I allow it.
I will not do that.

I am full of war.
Full of shadows and starlight,
angels and demons.

I stand in my heart,
amidst darkness and whispers,
gathering starlight.

The dark web dissolves,
the whispering voices hush,
and I see myself.

Anxieties, Irritations & The Urge to Run Away

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.
It looks like I'm going to be a home owner.
This is not my first time buying a home, but I have to admit that this experience has been less than pleasant.  I'm not sure if it's because I'm in a different state or because the property is bank owned or what, but there have been times in the last three weeks that I've wanted to beat my head against a rock.
Honestly, I feel like the sellers and their agents have made me jump through more hoops than a circus poodle. 
This past Friday, I had the condo inspected.  It's in okay shape. Not great. It needs a new heat system. The upstairs windows are stuck shut. The dishwasher doesn't work and three of the four stove top eyes don't work. 
These are all fixable.
My concerns regarding water stains on the ceiling were calmed by the inspector. So, I don't need to worry about the bathtubs falling through the ceilings or anything like that.
But as the closing date approaches, I am growing increasingly ambivalent about this purchase.
Do I really want to buy this place?
I honestly don't know.
A large part of my reaction, I suspect, is just jitters.  A home is a major purchase.
Another part of my reaction is the fact that my bank is not being particularly helpful.
All in all, this entire experience has made me want to get in my car and drive away.