i was going to lay a rant down here.

i was going to vent about a particularly self-absorbed, smarmy prat that keeps leaving her passive aggressive dog shit on my lawn.

but why bother? i am in my nice warm flat, making some kick ass mushroom risotto. i have a beer in one hand and am tossing paid bills into the rubbish with the other. i have a good job, italian blood, solid mates, a well stocked fridge, and a fully charged vibrator.

did i mention the man that keeps house with me? while i sleep, he turns ideas, emotions, and copious amounts of mountain dew into absolute works of art. he makes me laugh, holds down a job, and does the laundry, even though he hates it…simply because he knows i dislike it. the only reason i’m not waxing poetic about his physical attributes is that they speak for themselves.

besides, she knows already.

so let the meddling slapper toss her feces against my door. i will snag a broom, kiss my man, and sweep the porch clean.

after all, living well is the best revenge.

" there is no kingdom like the forests. "
ursula k. le guin

self reminder

every moment i am handed is beautiful.
when the present feels dark, it is only because i forgot that the light always starts in me.

" september: it was the most beautiful of words, he’d always felt, evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret. "
albert camus

"dog on a chain" - john mccauley and jonny fritz

" they called her witch because she knew how to heal herself. "
té v. smith