It's been a year.

It's a good time for a blog revival.

world war z

Caedmon

When we get more confident, we move from
similes
to metaphors!
Dull and clumsy Caedmon and his
hymn
of Wulder-Faeder
and his arcane wonder
father
Sing!

http://freerice.com

Dear Ks4SmjGw,

I hate you.

Visit

I miss Alex Hoffman.
She's as elegant as her full name, Alexandra. Cuts her hair as often as I dye mine.
The last time I saw her for an extended period of time was January First, Two Thousand Four. It was her fifteenth birthday and she was trashed. Had 1/4 bottle of Everclear. At about 105 lbs., that's fairly dangerous. I held the few loose long strands she hadn't snipped off yet as she regurgitated into the toilet. An array of half-digested twizzlers and clear liquid twirled along the drain. Emma was holding her stomach, just minutes from vomiting as well. They slept well, and I stayed up to make sure they lied on their sides.
I really miss Alex Hoffman. Her arms are speckled with cigarette burn scars. Striped with razor drags. Damaged, inside and out. Most beautiful person, too. Selfless and stunning.
She lives in a Chicago mental hospital.
(from tongueuntied, written 11/4/2005)

I saw Alex today. She was swell.

The Stink

It was overwhelming, I told him on my cigarette break sans cigarette. It was fermented juice and food, leaking through a trash bag, microwaved and sautéed in rotten body odor. I fled to the bathroom, where I thought I could dwell freely without such an odious stench, yet the bright lights drew out a pulsing migraine.