doctor doctor give me the news.


i got a bad case of hating you. Yeah, that's right - not really feeling the love for hospitals and such today. Don't get me wrong - we've had some good times - some real good times. I mean, how many girls get that kind of romancing?

Constant attention, dates aplenty, and thousands of dollars worth of dope presents. Literally. I'm talking 24 karat chemical here. Displayed proudly on my arm at all times.

But that was years ago. I'm over it.

Now I'm not such a material girl. Living the good life. There's no hole in my arm where the money goes. There's no patches on my head where the bald spots show. On the outside, you'd never know about my former dalliances with dapper disease.

But on days like today, I can't help feeling a little bit of dread. Dread that it will all be waiting for me wanting to hit it old skool. Radiating love and holding a bouquet of IV.

Saying, "don't you ever get a lump in your throat when you think about us? Well, that lump aint just nostalgia darlin."

Should be an interesting morning. After all you know, what they say:

Can't live with it. Can live without it.

i don't mind mondays.

funny how you start a little blog-o-rog, with the feeling that because it's online you will be more dutiful in your writing, and then a week passes and you have done nothing more than contemplate the idea of writing. how coy.

So here i am, ready to at least give the keyboard a little tap dance. Though of course, that is what i've been doing all day. But hawking product isn't quite the same as mocking and verbally gawking. Today i wrote wine descriptions. Nothing more satsifying than writing as an authority on something you have absolutely no authority on whatsoever. Like wine.

Sure, i dig wine. I like that it rolls down my throat like liquified twizzlers and slurs my mind into tipsy complacency -- but that kind of pap does not a wine sell. No, wine lovers are all about the fancy schmancy descriptors - the lingo. What i wrote today went something like this:


Voluptuous aromas of black currant and mocha precede a luscious palate of soft plum and cherry flavours. A perfect companion to roasts and grilled meats.

Not really sure what i am talking about there. Voluptuous companions normally suggest comely ladies in fishnets, not a tetra pak'd Shiraz. But whatever sells i suppose. Now if i was writing a wine description i could easily understand, it would go something like this:

Red in colour and wet to the tongue, this Shiraz has boozy undertones and bold down-and-out wino aromas. An excellent accompaniment to cigarettes.

Much more the point, wouldn't you say?

So writing and writing and all the exciting.

Work seems so much of a part of me lately that even when i write in the evenings, curled up in bed with a good (power)book, i am still dissecting things that happened in the 9-5 (or rather, 9-7) day. Ah well, i suppose that's natural. After all, i am doing what i want to do.

Writing silly for a living. Writing lilly for a siving.

another day another dollar.

another wholly self-indulgent holler.

and voila, so begins the non-rhyming portion of my life. or my life captured in the blog-form, the not-quite-art-but-kind-of form. you see, i already have a poetry blog. so the only logical progression is to realize that you can't rhyme all the time. and even if you can, there are bound to be days when it's not a good plan.


so here is the start of something new. a phrase that i just stole right out of the mouths of voxtrot. and many many writers before them. but no matter. here i am, in my new yammering spot.

i figure this can be a bit more casual - business-casual of course. button-down emotion, captured for you in sloppy sides, rather than perfectly organized vignettes.


so basically less sonnet, more life sucks, doggone it.

or when i'm happy

less haiku, more woo hoo.

you see where i am going with this. which is right into a self-obsessed neurotic spiral.

oh yes. just picture a ringmaster screaming, "let's get ready to MUMMMMBLLLLLE."