The Girl and the Loom.

The light pours down on her from above,

The loom tightens a cord and flexes his fingers, picking out the tune. The notes become threads of sound, the resonance of his voice becomes the framework.

Simple man, simple notes. Simple loom, simple threads.

Her voice is the shuttle, and it weaves a fine dance between the threads that the loom plays. And the end of the chorus comes, their voices tight together, pushing back the edges of the sound.

A satisfying gathering as the reeds push things tight, a new verse.

Another pick, another strum, another word, another cry,

The pattern builds and winds, the blanket takes shape, a world of understanding appearing beneath skilled tongues, skilled hands.

She sings a warmth and comfort from disconnected strands. A construction of the soul takes place, even through the saddest songs.

He plays the notes, he strums and picks, the threads are strong, her voice held fast in the net he has created for her, and her voice giving reason to his threading fingers.

The picking slows, the voice tapers away to a whisper, then to nothing.

The blanket is finished, you wrap it warm around your heart, elation in times of darkness, a comfort in times of joy.

Another song is begun, another blanket woven.

Take one off the loom.

Wrap it round your heart.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

I love my friends.

As a reaction to my last couple of outbursts here, a few of my real life friends have written me to express concern and say they are willing to help if need be. I appreciate this, and it's been nice to see them do it in a way that's low key and relaxed, without digging for details or trying to get information on drama they don't need to know the down-and-dirty about.

By far, however, the best response I've gotten so far came from a close friend. It made me smile, and it seemed so perfect I had to transcribe it and post it here.

"Hey man it's [Chaplain Blue], uh, I scanned your web log and I had some cause for concern.

Your first post was kinda angry and I got that, and the second post was a lot more angry, it seemed like, and a lot more out there.

And. . .I don't really need a why or a how or a story or a 'he-said-she-said', just let me know I'm not gonna see your ass on or the ten o'clock news and I'll be ok.

Hope whatever it is that's stressing you out gets taken care of and you can go back to being normal.

Otherwise I guess I'll talk to you later, bye."

Anyway, it brightened my evening and I thought y'all would enjoy it.

For those of you that are wondering if I've started taking Soma--I haven't. As you may recall, I'm an introvert, and I haven't really gotten time alone since before Christmas. It's no wonder I was bordering on homicidal earlier. So my current upswing in temperament is the result of a recently completed 30 hour holiday from people of all types, and I'm feeling about a million times better. Now my happy, introvert ass is going to get some writing done, and then get to sleep. Tomorrow is a whole new day.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Third Time's a Charm.

Burned once, shame on her.

Burned twice, shame on him and me.

The next one, I'm gonna fuckin' crucify.

Watch your step, world.

Don't push me 'cuz I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Grow up.

For those of you that like to lay on the guilt that I don't call and give updates: you can shove it. My new phone has a very interesting set of timers built in.

In the past three weeks I've received 55 calls, for a total of one hour, 59 minutes and 41 seconds of talk time. I've dialed 190 calls, for a total of seven hours, 16 minutes and 57 seconds of talk time. At the end of the day, I am keeping in touch with all of you. It's you lot who are failing to keep up your end.

So let us set some ground rules, shall we?

1) It is not my job to keep in touch with you.

2) It is not my job to convey my schedule to you on a daily basis.

3) It is not my job to call you every week and tell you how my life is going. You want to know how I'm doing? Amazing true fact: The phone from which I call you occasionally also receives calls. Or you could e-mail me! Considering all of you know I hate the phone, maybe that would be a more polite solution?

4) My schedule is busier than yours. This truth is universal. I don't give a flying fuck if you're the pope and work 16 hour days, you still have more free time than me. Want that to change? Work your current job, adopt a half a dozen twenty-somethings who desperately need to be babied through into a level of maturity and self-motivated behaviour that you reached a decade ago, and take on a play that eats up another 20 hours of you week. Then sacrifice the mental stability of living alone, the calm of a quiet afternoon without calls and the ability to get anything accomplished without feeling like you're probably not paying *someone* enough attention, and you're getting close to the content of my life.

5) No-one gets a phone call from me for the remainder of this month. I've already stopped cooking food and cleaning house. If you miss the current Theatre Macon production I'm involved in as a result, it's your own gorram fault, because I told everyone about it a month ago.

I just don't have time for you. Learn to live with this fact, or take time out of your busy schedule to contact me.

If you call me, be concise, ask pointed questions, and expect the answer to be terse.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Thank you, Samuel Clemens

"There are lies, there are damned lies, and there are statistics."

Those numbers are really interesting, and support what I've been saying for the last two weeks. One thing I wasn't expecting from that analysis though -- Obama has an edge over Clinton vs. McCain. . . even when you look at only white voters.

I've decided who Clinton reminds me of, too. Nurse Ratchet, from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. She represents institutionalization at it's most fundamental, anti-American level.

Sunday, February 10, 2008


This is a really sweet instructables, apparently put together by a couple of sickeningly in-love mild exhibitionists.

Enjoy the cute/quirkiness.

Sunday, February 03, 2008