Of Crumbling Moons And Wayward Creeks (formerly Finding My Opti in This Mist {Geddit?})

Hi there. Hello. ‘Sup homeslice? Hola.  How goes it fellow keyboard-tappin’, bubblegum-poppin’, featured-image-croppin’ (what?) creatures of the written word?

(I don’t even have bubblegum)

This is your Captain speaking. Captain of Finding My Opti In This Mist. Look at me. Look at me. I am the Captain now.

I’m just trying to say hi, okay? Okay? Okay.(Apparently I decided the best way to do that was by slashing through gerunds and adopting unnatural slang greetings. Nice.)

I’ll keep this brief.

This is just to inform whatever handful of readers I have about a couple of changes to the blog (though I am going out on a very shaky limb here when I assume those few readers would actually be concerned with said changes, but onwards!).

The blog name, for one, has been changed to ‘Crumbling Moons and Wayward Creeks’. I’m not sure how that sounds but I was getting tired of the old blog name, and yes, yes I know this will be my second name change but just…okay? I’ve been informed by the powers that be (namely Google) that changing the name of your site results in a decreased number of hits. Well, what can you do? Hopefully those who never find my blog will eventually be able to fill the gaping hole in their existence that was destined to be filled by my words (until I decided to up and change the site title) with something of close enough (if not equal) profundity. After being given a reasonable amount of time to cope, that is.

And of course my flippancy about the loss of those potential readers means that I won’t be crying into my pillow every night for the next few months when blog stats plummet even further until this little corner of the internet eventually meets its inevitable fate: final and absolute oblivion.

Obviously I will not be doing that.

The theme has also been changed (evidently my restlessness about everything else in my life has managed to seep onto here. Hurray), making this about the 100th time that I have done that.

And that’s about it, I think. Everything else is more or less the same. Do let me know what you think about the new name and look? And whether I should just go back to the old one?

Please? Don’t leave my fragile self hanging here.

Yours Truly,

sign-off

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And The Chicken Crossed the Road And Other Nonsensical Titles.

Stitch it all up.
Glue and magazine strips
Don’t work.
Sew it all up
Needle in and out,
Piercing skin, the veins,
the heart.

Out it spills,
Can’t stop
Won’t stop
Lock it away
No time,
Not yet
Never enough time. Not now not ever.

Over and over,
Every year
It’s never gone
Always hovering
Sometimes higher up,
Out of sight.

A dull gray,
Not concrete,
Not dark, not solid

An inky gray.
Hovering.

Ravens, high up,
Sleek, shiny, free
A stone. A single pebble–
Wings glistening,
Then dripping red;
Bloody.
Falling, spiralling
Into the gray.

Not Quite Right

I have this thing where I draw almost pretty faces. It isn’t intentional. You know how sometimes when you paint or draw or sketch, everything is great up until a point, and then you can feel yourself going off-track? You know that you’re supposed to stop right then and take a breath and look at it. Stop and look and distance yourself so you find it again. Well I can’t do that. I know I’ll regret it later and that this’ll just render all my previous hard work irrelevant, but I can’t stop. It’s this almost destructive urge to spoil that which has been coming along so good (if I do say so myself) up until then. And when others look at it they know something is wrong but they can’t really figure out what.

But some of them I actually like even if they seem unappealing to everyone else:

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Yours Truly,

sign-off

Three Rights Doth A Left Make

There are these things in life. Small things; insignificant in the long run—but colossal in the present. Logic says one thing, impulse, the other. Sometimes you shut down your mind for a while. But eventually, it catches up. Impulse is fun and happy. Logic is consequence. Finding the middle-ground is a balancing act in heels on a tight-rope. And I never much was one for heels.

It isn’t about right and wrong—things are never really that easy. It’s more about what you want, and what you…should want. It’s like they say, one man’s right, is another man’s left. Wait, do they say that? I think I’ve heard it somewhere…can’t be entirely sure, really. Point is, when you think you’re doing the right thing, are you really just doing it because it’s the only option you have left? Given the choice, would you rather listen to the demonic alter ego on your left shoulder in high heels and fur? Is doing the right thing a conscious choice or is it just another one of the chains society has strapped on to your chest? Some consider being impulsive a good thing, while others insist it just leads to ruin. The thing about impulse (other than it losing all meaning due to being repeated about a million times in this paragraph) is that it leads to you doing some really, really stupid things: a fight sometimes, harsh words, shirked responsibilities…it’s everything the rational part of you wants to deny. Because we’re all told it’s wrong. But the other thing about impulse is that it’s pure. It’s all you. That may be scary depending on the things you’ve done on an impulse and chalked up to a momentary lapse in judgement, but it is pure. It’s not the result of what you’ve been taught and told over the years. It’s not influential. Yes, like I said, one does do some very, very ill-advised things on an impulse, but we do it because we want to. Because we shut down all of the external voices and listen, for once, to our own. It doesn’t always do us good. But, on the b-right side, we learn something. We learn what not to do.

Right and wrong. Logic and impulse. It’s a balancing act. But it’s your life and you decide where the scales tip.

 

Don’t laugh, okay?