request for livejournal.

if you don’t have access to read an entry, while flipping back through… just skip to the next ‘accessable’ entry.

I keep banging my nose on private posts. 🙂

(my own, even, when I’m not logged in.)


Half the time I have something to write about I can’t figure out how to go about doing it. I’m not in the “writing” mood right now today, however, I am in the “having something written” mood, so I just can’t please myself. I just sat for about 20-something minutes trying to decide if I was gonna write anything or not, listening to Atom Heart Mother…I know it was twenty something minutes cause the song just ended…and trying to talk to myself in (cue freaky organs…) Crazy Anne Heche Speak like Celestia.. Sometimes I even understand what I’m saying. I’m not gay, nor am I crazy, though… just fun to simulate a fake self-language, in the style of hers.

This afternoon I was sitting in my chair, minding my own business, when out of nowhere I hear this quick pung! (midway between ping! and pong! I’m thinking). I have no idea what caused it, but I know it leapt from the parking lot outside…well, I think so.

Last night, after my sweetheart went to bed, I went out and bought groceries at Publix and purchased there a single unit of my favorite hard-to-find fruit. ( like others more, but it’s rare when I see these.) A pomegranate. I’ve spent the better part of today with my treat, picking out one tiny seeded juice sac at a time, sucking it through my teeth to get all luscious bits, and spitting out the seeds. I love pomegranates. This is my first in quite a while. I can’t seem to find them ever at the green grocer, or Winn Dixie, probably because I’m the only one who likes them. I suppose if we have to invent seedless grapes and seedless oranges… It’s too wet here to grow them locally, but they’re tasty.

Interestingly, the French word for pomegranate is grenade.

I may have a little kitchen experiment tonight, because I’ve stumbled upon a Middle Eastern/Turkish recipes website. I think I’ll make myself a slightly modified aijet beythat. That’s sautĂ©ed hard-boiled eggs (new to me) with butter, cinnamon, white pepper, paprika, and salt. It looks good!


HERE we go in a flung festoon,
Half-way up to the jealous moon!
Don’t you envy our pranceful bands?
Don’t you wish you had extra hands?
Wouldn’t you like if your tails were—so—
Curved in the shape of a Cupid’s bow?

Now you’re angry, but—never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!

Here we sit in a branchy row,
Thinking of beautiful things we know;
Dreaming of deeds that we mean to do,
All complete, in a minute or two—
Something noble and grand and good,
Won by merely wishing we could.

Now we’re going to—never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!

All the talk we ever have heard
Uttered by bat or beast or bird
Hide or fin or scale or feather
Jabber it quickly and all together!
Excellent! Wonderful! Once again!
Now we are talking just like men.

Let’s pretend we are . . . Never mind!
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
This is the way of the Monkey-kind!

Then join our leaping lines that scumfish through the pines,
That rocket by where, light and high, the wild-grape swings.
By the rubbish in our wake, and the noble noise we make,
Be sure—be sure, we’re going to do some splendid things!