in absentia

The writing assignments call for moths, limbs and blood and I think I should join the fray, but, today, I have no story. Neither today nor in recent memory. In fact, I'm vaguely surprised by the words deeper in and down below, curious about the person who wrote them, because it certainly isn't the me of the here and the now. I can barely fathom an interest in creating language and am formulating a grand plan wherein I co-opt someone else's words for mine very own.

You see, I've got carpal tunnel and in the meantime find my feet itch to tread boards and hit marks again. To let trip words not of my making and better. To surf tsunamis of emotion under lights, minus the post-mood-pangs and apologies that come with kitchen table rages.

So I'm imagining it into being -- you feel me?

A reformed realist, my glass overflows.

But, alas, not so much my blog.

Still, Amazon just sent me a camera and there will be pictures of mostly Fred (I'm sure) to amuse you soon.

So hang in until after Monday. I'm off to Colorado tomorrow and will be back refreshed and hopefully with stories.

Much love chickidees. . .