Potpouri

Something tips and slides at two weeks. Some deep dark place begins to open. I imagine a stink coming off of me, a flashing scarlet beam advertising my precarious perch. This girl has dark places begging to be reached for! This girl might go for any bullshit you sling at her right now. Buy this girl a drink! The twist and turn of fuck sounds like bass guitar strings if you wrapped two or three together and pulled your fingernail up and down them before gently plucking.

Is anyone else picturing all of us with those flashlight helmets spelunking with string instruments and hopeful loins?

I fell down the stairs today. It wasn’t as exciting as that sounds. There were no somersaults or broken bones. Just me hippity-hopping down the stairs at about ninety miles an hour followed by my foot hitting the hump of a stair and sliding out from under me. Body up, body down, down, down, down until I was lying at the bottom of the stairs. I finally have a mother-fucking bruise. It’s not easy to get one with my skin type. You have to REALLY inspire my skin to bring blood to the surface. It knows better than to rush to just any point of pressure. I also have a rug burn. And my rib cage feels rickety like an old wood bird cage. Fuck I AM still alive! I know ‘cause I can feel every shallow breath I take! I mean. Sometimes you can’t tell anymore. I’m a little worried about how alive I’m going to feel in the morning but we’ll deal with that when we get to it.

Earlier this morning The Man and I were discussing the fact that when someone suggests a warm washcloth or soak it doesn’t do a goddamn thing they’re just at a loss and tell you that get you to go away.  After he came to peel me off the floor (stomping on my left hand in the process ..) he offered to heat an entire wet towel for me. That bastard is funny as fuck, isn’t he?

His sister and I have been calling him Captain Man. Out here in Corbett we had quite the windstorm and she stayed the night last Saturday. When we got up in the morning The Man was no where to be found. His car was there but he was missing. Right around when I was getting ready to call his phone and be one of THOSE g/fs a pickup pulls up and drops him off. It’s his new best friend some old man who picked him up. He had decided to go walking toward the river to help clear the roads and see what was going on. During the wind storm. For fun. Long before eight am.

I haven’t had the writing bug. Some of you have been asking after me and I appreciate being missed. Don’t worry. My muse never stays away for too long.  I don’t know. Nothing much is happening around here but that’s not really it. This is just how it goes. Ebb and flow and whatnot. Go ahead and make some suggestions in the comments so I have something to ignore and rebel against. ;)