Log in

nothing can be changed except ourselves...

...live the life you love, love the life you live.

4/21/09 01:08 am

I am so incredibly appreciative for the awesomeness that has fallen into my life. I couldn't have hand-picked a better hand to be dealt if I tried. I never imagined in this strange life that I would be so overwhelmed by fantastic fortune.

11/8/08 12:03 pm - RIP Daesha!

Euthanasia translates to "happy death" in Greek. We always did our best. If I didn't make a joke about it I would just break down, so here goes: In the vets office we were talking about burial options, and she was telling me about how they can do a group burial and burry them with other dogs. Now, if you knew Daesha you would know that she HATED other dogs with a firey passion. I told the vet that it's probably not a good idea because she hates other dogs so much, and we both laughed about it. I know my Daesha! After nursing her through the night, I decided that we just couldn't go on like that anymore.

To my beloved canine companion!




11/2/08 10:23 pm

new room mate maaadddddnnneeessss!!!
hooray for Nico!

11/2/08 01:01 am

...and the difference between you and me, baby, is I get fucked up when I'm alone.

10/23/08 04:19 pm - in times of trouble, laugh your ass off at corny art jokes.

"Since then, the Alaska governor has done little to dispel concerns that she can't articulate thoughts that aren't preprogrammed talking points. More than once, Palin has slipped into George W. Bush territory with statements so absurdly inane they seem closer to Dada art than standard political speech."


9/27/08 11:35 pm - beautiful...

A story about the death of a cat:

"We found the right place to bury her, beneath a towering redwood on the edge of a nearby forest. We dug a small hole at the foot of the tree and then simply sat, silently. The redwood was magnificent, sparkling and waving in the morning light, surging up from the earth to the sky. Into this great tree something of our small friend would pass. From form to form, life would go on. We laid her body in the soil, covering it over with the tree's roots and the sweet-smelling forest loam. As we tamped down the last of it we heard a small rustling in the bushes. We turned to see. It was a cat, watching."

found in Dr. Pitcairn's book.

9/21/08 10:04 pm - lol


As a 1930s wife, I am
Very Poor (Failure)

Take the test!


As a 1930s husband, I am
Very Superior

Take the test!

9/17/08 08:21 pm - How will I know if where I am is where I need to be?

It's a far wiser choice, on occasion, to pretend that the events occurring around you are just part of a long, satirical theatre piece written in endless acts.

I am totally incapable of sticking to any plan that I create for life. I have random desires, I can't pin myself down. It wouldn't suit me anyways.

9/15/08 09:38 pm - not nearly enough places

visited 18 states (36%)
Create your own visited map of The United States or determine the next president

9/14/08 01:07 am - groovin.

up up up up up up
points the spire of the steeple
but god's work isn't done by god
it's done by people

up up up up up up
points the fingers of the trees
the lumberjacks
with their bloody axes
are on their knees

and just when you think that you've got enough
enough grows
and everywhere that you go in life
enough knows

up up up up up up
dances the steam from the sewer
as she rounds the corner
the brutal wind blows right through her

up up up up up up
raises the stakes of the game
each day sinks its bootprint into her clay
and she's not the same

and just when you think that you've got enough
enough grows
and everywhere that you go in life
enough knows

and half of learning how to play
is learning what not to play
and she's learning the spaces she leaves
have their own things to say
then she's trying to sing just enough
so that the air around her moves
and make music like mercy
that gives what it is
and has nothing to prove

she crawls out on a limb
and begins to build her home
it's enough just to look around
to know she's not alone

up up up up up up
points the spire of the steeple
but god's work isn't done by god
it's done by people
Powered by LiveJournal.com