Ants ranging about
This once fertile table
Deciding between spilt beer
Or not
A civilization
Of scavengers
Dictated
by a woman
What if the queen
Had ambition?
Maybe she just needs
Someone to pine for
An easel to fill
Another trip to the beach
One more glass of wine
By the time you know
The world has moved
And she with it
Thanks for playing.
I was at the Lamp earlier.
I want to go on record that fear is the mind killer and should not be used for motivation. No matter how cute the acronym is.
I’m dedicating my 100th post to the Memphis Punk Festival. I just showed up for the opening show at Murphy’s. The crowd is high energy and ready to go. I’m here early because at 7pm I need to go visit Amurica for the Spillit slam. The theme is music, so I feel like it’s a respectable detour from the festival. Not to mention I can’t wait to tell a story. After that, all music all the time. Or something.
I’m terrified. Of the stage, not the story. I don’t have all my details hammered down but I’ve gone over the idea for almost a month. I just need to go up there and not stumble on my words. I even wore sexy underwear for luck.
The band just started up and everyone came alive. It’s superb metal. I think Spit is playing. I wanted to stay for the Cheerbleeders especially but it doesn’t look like I’ll get the chance. There’s something about scream-singing that comforts me. I want to believe I could find that thick mix of honey and gravel deep down in my own chest but I would probably giggle when I try.
And now I have a crush on the bass player. He looks like a handsome version of my 9th grade boyfriend.
Heads nodding
In approval
Bodies jitter
To the beat
Noise wavesCrashing against
Faces and walls
Excitement mixed
with body odor
and heat.
I find out information
Just by listening
What I do with it
Is the real secret
Without intervention
People are uninteresting
Raised by baby boomers
In cocoons of false praise
Never trusting, always lusting
She wears a tie
That dangles
Between breasts, fully covered
The only thing between me
And that mountain
Of bad decisions
Is a thin film of respect
A pulsating mass
Of unidentifiable guilt
Slouches against my will
Power of integrity
To day.
A beautiful place.
All the things we do we do for all of the people to see. Even when I think about that while the things that happen here are going the
b
e
a
u
t
y
Is part of the problem. CAn’t make the lines bend QUitE the way I was trying.
I’ve always liked Hockey.
The blue part of my throat
starts in my chest. I move through
the waves
of
thestartofsomething….
What I mean to say is I have trouble separating my throat from my chest. So much of what I feel is centered between my lungs. So much of what I say is drawn from that well of emotion sometimes I know I just shouldn’t speak.
I’m rarely speechless.
I remember a time when I was too young to know any better. I was told one lie and that changed everything. I’d been in a nest of integrity for so much longer … I didn’t know what being in a group feels like, but this was when I started to find my groups.
*Ahem*
I brought it back to the yoga today. The trine of time, energy and intention conjoined an hour before work. I did the 4 poses I need to ground myself. My feet haven’t left the earth since. The 15 minute savasana clicked everything in place. I need that type of grounding with the moon getting all big and shiny like that. I caught myself just in time. The way I avoid trouble is making my own on a much smaller scale. It’s entertaining and I’m remembering things that are important. Like the yoga. See, it works.
I can see that this will get older faster than I thought. Just like me and my cats. I can’t imagine what they must think of me. I got a picture of my #judgement cat earlier. There’s still love in those eyes.
Gripping freedom with white knuckles
Bear down and grit my teeth,
it’s easier if you don’t look back.
Might even prefer it from behind.
The lookers and the seers
convene at the same watering hole
All over the city and state
Doesn’t matter what color state
I flew a kite the other day
While becoming horizontal
And melting into the wet earth
Downward dog = stretching cat
Don’t believe me.
Go see for yourself.
I’ve had my Surface Pro for a little over nine months. Tonight, I realized I can install Steam on it.
I’m presented with a major dilemma here. I have missed the presence of games. Without help from an AV Club member, my home computer is primarily a television.
I might invest some time in my entertainment leading up to PAX. For now, I’m gonna play the shit outta Tomb Raider.
Lara is a heroine I’ve admired since high school. She’s the first playable female character I remember identifying with. She is smart, sexy, not afraid to throw her back into a project, and, just like me in high school, over-sexualized.
I’ll never forget fighting wolves as a brave woman adventuring in dangerous places. A badass, independent woman. The early Tomb Raider games are mostly a blur. I only played bits and pieces after the first one. I signed on for the reboot in 2013 because of the opening scene trailer where she escapes from the cave. The steady progression of writing, game mechanics and graphics promised good things.
Alas, I was raised in an NES household and couldn’t afford any game systems after age 17 anyway. I dated a PS1 just long enough to discover Silent Hill partway through college. It was epic. That guy had a great dog too.
I’m excited to get my PC back for some RPG gaming. Maybe catch up with Ms. Croft if I can find some dough. There’s also the Wii I haven’t let go of. Did I just unknowingly find a solution? Ooo! N64 games!