Monday, June 29, 2009

Day 6.


"Hope, dangles on a string, like slow spinning redemption.."

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Day 5.

Today, I made a move out of my comfort zone. Talking to people I've never met about personal things.

I don't care. I'm counting it.

Day 4.

so I'm 8 minutes late. sue me.

I can take this now,
soft and slow.
The Coup De Grace,
the final blow.

But should it be,
that it's my time
My work is through,
I've done my crime.

Hilt to chest,
and regret to say
a forlorn farewell,
Ah, Touche.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Day 3.

Silver ring.
Made of:


Thursday, June 25, 2009

Day 2.

Kinda Crappy.
Ok really crappy.
and kind of a 90's throwback.
Made of:
Silver tulle
Hair notions

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Day 1.

Parisian Travel Book.
Made from:
Wallpaper samples
Scrapbooking supplies
And one of those nasty black and white spotty memo books.


Today starts my 29 Day challenge.
Basically, what I will do for the next 29 days is make something, anything, EVERY DAY.
It can be a recipe, a song, a poem, a picture, literally anything. As long as I make it.
Pictures shall ensue.
Wish me luck.
Readdddddddddddddy go.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Part two.

There had to be a reason though. There was always a reason. I’m sure Denny’s girlfriend Kaita would attribute this to some deep rooted childhood trauma. But she was a psych student. She thought everything was caused by some deep rooted childhood trauma.

I tried desperately to retain the taste in my mouth. To savor it, even if just for a moment more. That was definitely a first. Half a bottle of Listerine usually followed Denny’s creations. They went hand in hand. Just how connoisseurs matched wine with their meals, I matched mouthwash with whatever Denny fed me.

A basil ridden disaster might be paired with an aged peppermint. Where as a crisp spearmint might compliment a spicy sautéed monstrosity.

Not tonight though. Tonight was different.

For the first time I could remember, I wanted to taste what he had prepared.

Not because it tasted good. But because it intrigued me.

I sat and pondered for a while.

I got up and walked to the living room, and took a seat on an overstuffed, heinous, floral chamois. Immediately I was enveloped in a cloud of dust.
Coughing, I was able to mutter, You really should clean this place up.

Yeah, yeah. Denny hissed. I’ve only had it for a month. It’s not like I plan on staying here long.

He had inherited this fine piece of architecture from his mother’s great aunt. Whom he had met a total of two times. Some sort of family debacle and Denny ended up with full custody. There was more to the story than that but I had blocked out all I thought to be superfluous. All I needed to know was that I had a bedroom and a half bath all to myself, rent free courtesy of the ranting man-boy sitting next to me.

You know, you’re lucky I’m a nice guy.

Yes Denny, I know.

‘Cause most people wouldn’t let a slob like you waltz around here…



Maybe I was delusional to actually consider this a decent place to think.

By the time I reached the landing after the first flight of stairs, Denny’s whining was nearly inaudible.

The numbing was in full swing now, permeating the layers of skin that lined my throat and caressing my uvula.


Sunday, June 21, 2009

Part One.

How does it taste?

Eff it. I’m not trying another one of your “recipes”

Dude. Just one more time, I swear it’s better than the last one.

Or three or four?

Just try it for Pete’s sake.

He walked across the peeling linoleum in a faded gingham apron, and judging by the muddled stains it was another one of his thrift shop finds. His chestnut coloured hair cemented to his forehead with an appetizing mixture of sweat and grease. He held a splintered wooden spoon to my face. Insisting that I actually put the musky smelling substance in my mouth.

Please, if you hate it, you can spit and out and you’ll never have to try anything I make ever again.

That’s what you said last time.

And did you spit it out?

No, because it burned through the lining of my stomach before I could.

Exactly, so think about how slight the chance is that this won’t be even a little bit better.

I think you might possibly possess the most flawed log..

Dude. Shove it.

With that, he came at me with his viable cutlery weapon and quicker than I could smack my lips shut, the vile ooze was already festering inside my cheeks. It became evident to me that he did not intend to have his creation regurgitated onto his decrepit floor and no sooner than I allowed the congealed mess to trickle down the back of my throat did he lessen his grip on my face. As I sat awaiting my eminent death I hear an almost giddy,

Soooo… is it? He held his curled fingers close to his chest.

How is what? My face? Hurting. My pride? Hurting. My..

The soup! How is the soup??

So that’s what you’re calling it?

Just do me a favor. Shut the hell up and tell me what it tastes like.



Yes. It tastes. Grey. Yup, Grey.

How in the world does something taste like a color? Denny started pacing and tossed his embarrassing apron over a high chair that had to be at least a century old. I could maybe understand if you were eating a piece of fruit from Florida and you said it tasted orange. But grey? Meh Meh Meh. Where do you get off…

That’s about when I drowned him out. Even if someone gave me a thousand years and a Princeton trained research team, I doubt I could ever find a point in listening to him when he got like this.

I scraped my tongue against the back of my teeth and the last of the soups residue mixed with saliva and I was inclined to swallow as if pushed by a force greater than myself. As I did so, a dull numbness started to creep through my gums and tongue. It was a slow progression, soft but not overwhelming, like a child sneaking into the kitchen late, late at night for the very first time.

Denny. Have you tried this yet?

He kind of chuckled and muttered something to the extent of ‘oh, you’ as he walked into the living room.


He clicks on the archaic television that I’m sure had to be one of the first prototypes. Warbled and out of pitch voices drift through the old Victorian house followed by a brief moment of pre recorded laughter. All those old sitcoms are the same. A realistic character with mothering tendencies usually with a touch of cynicism, an antagonizing and annoying friend or neighbor, and at least one unbelievably goofy character that almost makes you cringe at times. Hilarity ensues.

I remained seated around the oak kitchen table, trying to occupy my mind from sorting out my last will and testament.

How on earth did the soup taste grey? I hadn’t really given it much thought, I just..answered. The soup just tasted grey. Just like how Denny was a mess of frugality and un-haltered ingenuity. Or how most of the actors on that old sitcom dabbled in drug addiction or alcoholism or a cornucopia of eating disorders. These things were just facts. And the soup just tasted grey. My opinion had nothing to do with it.


Friday, June 19, 2009

Greatly Needed Opulence.

Sometimes if you got it, you just need to flaunt it.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


Should darkness mask what fallacies not,
then what lies in light be pure.
Should love avail what hope forgot,
then in my faith I'm sure.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Let me come with you radiohead, I can rhyme too.

Gravel roads and worn-out sneakers
Candle wax and pouring rain.
Now I'm gone,
but it's still happening.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Who am I kidding. I still take naps.

Give Mother back her pumps
wipe that mascara from your eyes.
Don your Power Ranger slippers
and we'll give this one more try.

Think youth.
Think child.
Think hope.
Think games.
Think stories.

Put your latest date on hold
cover up a tad bit more,
Tie your hair back into tails
and sit cross legged on the floor.

Think laughter.
Think fun.
Think carefree.
Think dreams.
Think truth.

Stop texting for a moment,
your "BFFs" can wait.
I just want you to remember
when they used to be playmates.

Think recess.
Think naps.
Think courage.
Think straightforward.
Think memories.

Categorize them old and new,
keep them stored and filed.
But the thing you must remember,
You will always be my child.