If it wasn't clear by now, I like writing about feelings. As someone who's been in a psychologist's chair since the age of 10, I find it to be the style I slip into most easily. Pair that with a love of speech and dialogue, you get the emotional, colloquial mess you see before you. I've never been one for analytic writing and I doubt you could find a piece of text I wrote in either high school or college that didn't stink of a personal touch, gross subjection and ALWAYS hyperbole. What can I say? As much as I hate to associate with it, I'm a drama kid. I didn't feel alive unless I've got my hands in the sticky, electric guts of the sympathetic body.
******
And there she blows: the turn. The mood shifts and the throat gets harsh and bitter. Teeth long to grind on acorns and foil and fiberglass shards.
Today's Drawing (inspired by a phone ring and a headache.)
Today's "365" Project (Do something with ice. I made a hand!)
"No Pointer"
******
And there she blows: the turn. The mood shifts and the throat gets harsh and bitter. Teeth long to grind on acorns and foil and fiberglass shards.
Haiku of the Day:
Droplets of hot wax
pepper the white counter-top
hard, blue, and fuzzy
pepper the white counter-top
hard, blue, and fuzzy
Today's Drawing (inspired by a phone ring and a headache.)
Today's "365" Project (Do something with ice. I made a hand!)
"No Pointer"
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