Many pangs


There are wagons, and there are wagons. The latter is somewhere far, far away, on the other side of — jesus — fifteen months in which I’ve written literally zero words of … Art? Trivia? Rote journalizing? Whatever it is, none. Nil.

I’m not sure where it all went. Well, actually, lie — I’m as reasonably sure as the next gal, but I’d no warning it would be  so long… without. Didn’t even know i could live like that. But truthfully, I’ve been happy — happier than ever. Pitter patter kisses. Wicker pups. Sorry for being vague! Vagueness makes me happy right now, too. As does vagary. Selva inconstant! Hello again, Eden.

Still wishing for my own website back. Still hampered by incompetent webhost. Am considering re-adopting capital letters in my writing as a measure of defiance, until I Find Home.

George Clooney is on the television right now — Michael Clayton. He’s like the polar opposite of Miles Massey, another lawyer he played back in 2003. How many degrees off am I from the me of way back when?

Well, let’s see.

  • miranda

    happiness is more important than writing, i'm deciding.

    miss you, though...

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