My coffee tastes like warm ash and mossy tree bark. In time, the brew gives me tummy quicks - roiling little burbles that punch out and energize my sore legs. Sheets of ominutiae cascade and brush the crown of my head like the flaccid blue strips of a car wash. It's a wet, dragging tug that draws my head back. And with an exposed neck, I sigh, mouth slack and waning like a grouper's. There I wheeze shallow, sensing the acrid stink of my breath on the flesh of my tongue and inner cheeks. My chapped lips sting like rubbing alcohol in the stale subterranean breeze. I'm in the snaking damp of my own throat, aloft on sickly kangaroo haunches...braying out a biblical verse from my childhood in gravely tones. A necktie band blossoms purple on my bare neck. I feel like a circus bear or a Mennonite downtown.
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Ombudsman" from MW's word of the day. It's a person who helps investigate, report and settle complaints.)
Today's "365" Project (Do something with your lunch before you eat it. It's been a while since I had a good food project. Seemed like it was every other one for a while there...)
"Baked Pothulu"
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Haiku of the Day:
Purple morning sky,
pale with bloat like a drowned man
floating in the bay
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Ombudsman" from MW's word of the day. It's a person who helps investigate, report and settle complaints.)
Today's "365" Project (Do something with your lunch before you eat it. It's been a while since I had a good food project. Seemed like it was every other one for a while there...)
"Baked Pothulu"
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