oh and

Peter Murphy

This photo was on my...folder...in high school. stfu.



Time to go to the Nile?

Little did I know that my childhood past time of making cards and pictures out of doilies would pay off so...literally.

One of my museums hosts a free craft event for kids once a month. The events generally have to do with something vaguely historical. This month they're making Victorian-inspired Valentine cards. See here for examples. Almost too much to handle, no?

Bossy the Chicken

My friend Zach keeps chickens in his backyard. I love the chickens so much and am pissed that I can't have any.

Checking in is boring

I've had no desire to write for myself lately. I normally have an internal monologue running at all times in the back of my brain. When I listen to it, I have to write it. Other times I just let it go and it continually records over the old tape. Well, it's off. Off enough that I can't even write this. I'm always busy and always sick. I haven't even THOUGHT about Anne Boleyn in months.

(lie: I thought about her yesterday)

I'm in a creative writing class, and it's bad enough that I'm just recycling things I wrote in the past and turning them in. I even used a blog entry from here. Interestingly, it was the worst grade I've received overall.

So what have I been doing?

Reading fun books.

Failing at arm wrestling. I lost count how many times I lost this night, but it was somewhere around "all".

Criticizing others.

Watching birds fly south.

Noticing how crumbly adobe is.

Training docents. I should make a post about the castle, but that requires me to upload photos from my cameraaaaanoooo

But, some brief observations: it's not fancy at all in there. In fact, it's tiny and far less than I had expected. The grounds are more impressive, with all manner of Sonoran flora, and rabbits and quail and falling down wood buildings and historic dump sites (from construction and later rehabs) full of god only knows, but the bomb squad was there about a moldering can of black powder.

By the door of a legended tomb

Happy birthday to a special guy!

Unfortunately, it sounds like the Poe Toaster has died or retired and not named a successor, as this is the third year without an appearance. This is disappointing, as the world is in need of charming mysteries.

Image by me. Did you know I was such an artist?

Free dog

Bear #2

My grandmother's asshole neighbor has a new dog. Guess who doesn't approve. His old dog disappeared after getting injured in the fence last year. This is, of course, after months of watching the dog's previously sociable nature recede into skittishness and fear. So, now he has a new rottweiler puppy who looks like a baby bear. Full disclosure - the puppy is weird and really spacey. He likes to fling himself on the ground and roll around, but sometimes that means he hits his head on the concrete walkway pretty hard, and cries. He seems like a purebred to me. I'm literally asking everyone I know if they want him, because this neighbor guy is a world class bastard, and I'm convinced that he's already beating the puppy. I don't know any puppies who act frightened and hesitant, do you?

Getting the dog involves going to this guy's house during any of the 20 hours a day in which he's gone and the dog is in the yard, and swinging open the 3' pink gate. So, if anyone needs a sweet, dummy of a dog with shark teeth and gigantic feet, let me know! Seriously. I want to re-home this dog.

Lux and I are back together.

hello metaphor.

the ocean at night is so enthralling and terrifying. i can barely understand what i'm seeing when i stand on a beach anyway, but at night, it's like anything you think you know is not only suddenly missing, but meaningless. there is only this eternal black maw, occasionally shining, and roaring dully, slapping at your feet. like a dare. the only thing i've felt certain of while standing on a wet black beach is that it's not just water out there.