Gigglegiggle gigglegigglegiggle
Tuesday, September 17, 2019
snow blink - don't stop til you get enuf
Some of these that I posted years ago don't exist anymore, not on YouTube or spotify, nowhere unless you have the original CD. It took me two days to find this, after hearing it again all skipped and scratched on a CD from under my car seat. Then I decided ok I'm going to download all the music off my blog, but my blog didn't work on a pc. I hadn't looked at it years so I didn't know a widget had hacked it. It works ok on my phone mostly, I am posting this from my 6 year old phone right now, so (shrug). I'm too busy to solve all this. But I should. I should rescue all that music...
Saturday, September 14, 2019
Friday, September 13, 2019
'born under a Pisces moon' |
Full moon in Pisces tonight, Fri the 13th. Harvest.
Virgo weekend - With love and car keys, it's always the last place you look. If you haven't found it yet, then you just haven't looked in the last place yet.
Tuesday, September 10, 2019
spine work (move to it)
So much happened today. I can't even. And who would listen? Better to just sweat.
So much happened today. I can't even. And who would listen? Better to just sweat.
Monday, September 09, 2019
Sunday, September 08, 2019
Kids grow up. They start unfurling feelings, picking companions and futures. It is very cute. It's also hard not to wince knowing that it never gets any easier.
I am the fickle one. I do not care about what ails you (stop whining), especially if that thing is me (then get someone else), and unless I ask you to play me a song - don't. I know Nebraska is already pissing and moaning and pining internally, it'll break him, my Built of No will drive him up a wall then into somebody's pants. And I just can't feel anything but grrrrrrr about that fact. The best/most I can do is tell him the truth. If you text me 'thinking of you' one more fucking time, I am going to send a boob shot to someone else. Seriously. I have options. So: Shut. Up.
Love is a kick in the head.
I am the fickle one. I do not care about what ails you (stop whining), especially if that thing is me (then get someone else), and unless I ask you to play me a song - don't. I know Nebraska is already pissing and moaning and pining internally, it'll break him, my Built of No will drive him up a wall then into somebody's pants. And I just can't feel anything but grrrrrrr about that fact. The best/most I can do is tell him the truth. If you text me 'thinking of you' one more fucking time, I am going to send a boob shot to someone else. Seriously. I have options. So: Shut. Up.
Love is a kick in the head.