Monday, September 15, 2014

insane in the membrane - writing

This is me writing. No makeup, yet fully dressed. A wild, coarse, lion's mane of locks. On the porch. Best place in the whole galaxy. I should be cleaning or putting something away, but... meh. 

I often wonder about certain writers and where and how they write. I like the glimpse. Here's a glimpse into my writing space if you were curious. And if you weren't curious, then sorry, I had nothing better to write about today, because I spent my brain on 3000 words yesterday, which is something I didn't even think I was in the market for, but my brain was all, Yeah, get in on that. That's a good investment. Sold! Sat down and let 3000 words fly. Now what I'm I going to do with that today? I'm wondering if I want to keep paying the fees on the deal, but I feel like I have to because we're in 3000 words deep, folks. Compulsive little fucker, that brain.

If I'm not perched on my porch, I may scribble some thoughts down on paper at a red light. Grocery receipts and bank deposit slips come in handy for a jot if the notebook is missing in action. If I can't find a pen, there's always the notepad on my phone. Organization isn't really my thing. OK, I'm SO NOT organized. Every thing is every where and as I float around, lost on whatever cloud I'm riding, I just grab this or that from here or there. Not being organized is not a bad thing. There's always the element of surprise. People have actually given a painful, winced look my way when they know the degree of my unorganizedness (totally just made that word up, because I couldn't find the real word in my messy chaos, and I'm ok with that) and I have to wonder how those perfectly organized people sleep at night if they're constantly making sure everything is in its place. That's gotta be exhausting. Here, come take a nap with your exhausted self in this pile of laundry that I haven't folded. Just throw those magazines over there somewhere out of your way. You want something to drink? Let me wash a glass first. I sleep like a baby, y'all. 

The way I look for something to write with, and it could even be the tip of a burnt stick etching ash on concrete, is sometimes the way words are scrambled in my brain. I have to hone in on them, threatening them like small children. Get it together. Get in a line! Get organized! Stop running in circles! YOU CAN'T HAVE YOUR PUDDING IF YOU DON'T EAT YOUR MEAT! Yeah, right. These kids are badass, and sometimes they don't give a shit. I know they are flipping me the middle finger with gritted teeth and while dancing when I'm not looking. Bastards. 

When there's too much insane in the membrane, I play music. The notes, keys, pitch and all of it get my brain in the right rhythm. Every single time. I listen to everything, but not so much country. Umm... never country. The music is always something I've heard a billion times, something so easy, that at the same time I'm listening to it, I almost can't hear it at all. Right now it's Fleetwood Mac. Usually it's the music from when I was really little; of whatever was playing on a record player back then. Music is such a wild thing. I adore music. 

It's usually easier than it is hard, the writing. When it's hard there's the music. The music and the view from this screened in porch. To zone out on some trees and sky is a wonderful thing. Stephen King says to close the window when you write. Stephen - Steve - Steeevie dawling... Dude, no can do. Mostly I write in the mornings. My brain is on point in the morning. I could probably recite Shakespeare that I've never even read. I could probably work out all of Hawking's theories. I could probably save the ENTIRE world. Yeah, that's a big PROBABLY NOT on all three. But still. I'm good in the morning. 

Whoever may be reading this, please tell me, what is your one major secret go-to to chill your head out and get your words flowing. I'll be your bestest friend. I'll even have the laundry folded and a glass ready. 

-Angie


Friday, September 12, 2014

hung my hat

Another one of the chalk Santa's my mom did. This was Grandaddy's. Mine hangs on the next wall over, because - Santa.
Home. A place to hang my hat, lay my head, flirt with the skies, dance with the wildlife, gaze at blooms. I am so lucky to be here; to have home. Home is where you make it, no doubt. Home is where the heart is, I agree. And here, I am home. Home is where there is love and warmth and consistency and spontaneity and honesty and arguments and dirty dishes and, again, love. This place is brimming with love. My kids and I are home and we are happy. After having had a lot of different addresses, mostly in the same town, mostly because the moves had to be, I am now where I am. I'm where I'm always going to be. It's almost an overwhelming peaceful feeling. Almost. It's good. Tyler kind of softly said to me, when we were moving in, "I feel like you're going to die here, I mean, this is where you'll be when you're old and you die. Like, you're never leaving here." I smiled and told him, "I know what you mean. You're right, kid. Not if I'm lucky. This is it." 

-Angie

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

google turned harmless into porn. thanks, google

On the blog it will show me where people came from to see my blog. For instance: Facebook, Google, or random websites. It also shows specific search keywords that people typed into their Google search bar that led them to my blog. 

I rarely look at this, but yesterday I did. The times I have looked at this the keywords are usually something like, The Lake, Seashells, Shacks. You know, things like that. Nothing that grabs any attention. However, yesterday I looked at this and I just had to laugh. 


The key search words were "jerk me off with your tongue". How could "jerk me off with your tongue" have led anyone to me, I wondered. I've never written that. So I did my own Google search with those six (actually, pretty great) words, and sure enough, there was my blog. 


I hope whoever it was found what they were looking for, because I'm certain this little post wasn't it. And I hope they didn't get their tongue jerked out of their mouth, or jerk someone else's tongue out whilst being jerked off by it. Yeah, I said whilst. I like to keep it classy whilst talking about jerking off tongues. 

Thanks, Google. I'm not offended that my page came up under this search. I am wondering, though, why it has to be the ninth search result down the page. I should be promoted up the page since I'm writing this stuff without even trying. 

-Angie


Tuesday, September 9, 2014

moon fog and reefer smoke?



This picture was taken right after I quit high school. Look how sweet I was. Really. I really was a good kid. C'est la vie. I was going to the Christian Academy for a last ditch effort to pick up a high school diploma. The whole senior class had nine kids in it, I think. The girls had to wear skirts or dresses, and there was lots of bible study stuff, obviously, because it was a Christian school. 

And it was ok and would have been fine, but I got some kind of funky conjunctivitis in one eye for about a month, and then that shit jumped in the other eye for about another month. My eyes were so bloody red and they oozed stuff and they itched. There were no whites of my eyes to be seen. I can't believe nobody took a picture then. My eyes could have won awards for off the charts grossness. They could have used my eyes in a Stephen King movie or something. No makeup artists needed. I did have an eye patch. A cool one, too. Not some piece of gauze, but a real deal, black, motherfucking, Quentin Tarantino style eye patch. X 2 even. 

I couldn't take the sunlight, and of course, it was contagious. Coincidentally, these were the last two months of school, so no deal on the diploma, but I took care of that later. But the fire's-of-hell eye thing? Surely it wasn't the joint that me and my friend smoked, every time he gave me a ride to school, as we pulled into the parking lot with Aerosmith and reefer smoke pouring out of the windows, like daily. Whose name I won't say, but it rhymed with "Moon Fog". What can I say? You just never know about those quiet, church girls. 

-Angie

and because


I took these a photos a week ago or so, and another one weeks before that, because - homemade gutter. Awesomeness. And I love it. For the last few days my mind has been in other places. Because of that, I haven't been able to eat much. And because of that, I haven't had much energy. And because of that, I've made time for some serious writing in other places. And because of that, my mind is now in the gutter. But whatta beautiful gutter, eh?

-Angie

Monday, September 8, 2014

don't let the sweetness fool you







Cumber and Pickle. Two of the sweetest kittens ever. Each of them are really gentle, even when they're playing. Pickle will sometimes snag our legs a little rougher than we like, but still, mostly gentle. When we first moved into our house, nestled in the woods, I really liked that there were so many frogs and lizards. They were everywhere. Then Cumber and Pickle came with all of their furryness and cuddleness and cuteness and softness and put a serious dent in the reptile population. The frogs and lizards are rare to see now. 

I came out onto the porch this morning, happy and like a breeze, and rounded the corner to see this pretty good sized snake lying on the porch floor with Cumber standing guard. "Holy fuck!" I was startled. I put the kittens outside one door, so I could get the snake out the other door. But it was too late, the snake was dead. I carried him out to the edge of the woods. I checked my furry babies for any sign of a bite, and I found nothing. They're delightful and cushy and delicious like cotton candy, but they are cold blooded killers with precision. Aww...

-Angie

Sunday, September 7, 2014

i know my rules about vampires, homeslice


When I was little I loved scary books and movies and I still do. I liked all things scary, except for vampires. I had reoccurring nightmares about vampires when I was really little, and somewhere along the way I learned all the rules about them to keep myself safe. The typical things: To leave the sunshine outside and creep down into a castle's basement, where all the coffins are filled with sleeping vampires, and drive a stake through the heart, or use sunlight to kill them. Holy water, garlic, or a cross to ward them off and buy yourself time to escape. You never invite a vampire into your home, or that's it, you're done for sure. You never make eye contact with a vampire or he would immediately have controlled your mind and lured you in for the bite.

I proudly point to myself with my thumbs and declare to my girl that I know my rules about vampires, Homeslice. Don't think I don't.

Sister, who happens to be MY child, LOVES vampires. Yeah, she loves 'em. Of course, now vampires are all cute and glittery and are teenagers living in cool pads and she roots for them. And we debate how the rules go for killing vampires. Things have obviously changed some. She roots for today's vampires, because they are "nice", she says. (Yeah, whatever) She thinks she's going to pull the mind control trick on me, too. And she stares into my eyes and talks all slow and low and creepy- "You will get me a horse. You will get me an Arizona Tea. You will make me cookies." I have to admit, two outta three ain't bad. 

-Angie

Thursday, September 4, 2014

14.3K views




I've been reading this book for forever. And I will keep reading it forever until the new one comes out. And then I will read them both for forever. And I will read them in the car, or in an office, or on my porch, or in my bed, or under a tree, and... anydamnwhere that I don't want to be bothered by people. Some people tend to raise eyebrows and move away a couple of seats over when they see you laughing out loud at a book with a dressed up dead mouse on the cover. And I'm so thankful for that. But my kitties, Cumber and Pickle, love the dead mouse on the cover, and couldn't get enough of this book. I bet Jenny had the pages infused with catnip. Clever move, Bloggess. Clever, indeed. 

I thought it was cute, and I snapped a pic. Jenny aka The Bloggess thought it was cute and retweeted the photo. You know who else thought it was cute? 14.3K other people. That's who. !!

My fan base, and they don't even know it yet. That's what my delusional self tells my other self. Shhh!!

-Angie

PS If you don't already know... Let's Pretend This Never Happened
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