“Teenagers these days”… There is a hint (or maybe a bit more than that) of exasperation in my voice as I try unsuccessfully to block out the incessant babble of the young girls. More than a decade separates our ages, and it is clear to me that we have absolutely nothing in common to talk about. What unfolds next raises a revelation that I am embarrassed to admit to.
Have you ever heard the term bullet journal? Up until the spring of this year I hadn’t. And here I am in my eighth month of bullet journaling, delighted with the whole thing.
Should have realised that buying campy Christmas ornaments is a gateway drug, but I didn’t, and the whole thing just snowballed.
I think of you
as the memory of our love
shatters like a ceramic plate, suddenly
It was on his lips and on my hips, / And I leaned in closer to inhale the / Magic-like, love-struck perfume that / He wore on his shoulder like a / Promise.
Ru Paul’s Drag Race – a show that has it all. It’s like a combination of America’s Next Top Model, Project Runway, and all the talent shows around the world. Its talented Roy Haylock, who is also better known as the drag queen, comedian, actor, and costume designer, Bianca Del Rio, was the winner of season six.
you are a stacked tower of satellite gloom / glowering your raspy doom in drab lighting / grey as crackled concrete spitting / tart textures of gravel into / every / crooked / crevice
And so another fall is upon us. There is a crispness, a freshness in the air that has wiped away the drowsiness of summer. The day will be warm and the sun is shining, but underlying the mellowness of the warmth there is a new sense of urgency and impeding winter. And in this way seems to start another semester – fresh, urgent in its coming and heavy with the promise of change.
This year, in the spirit of constantly growing as a person and all that jazz, I’ve been willingly doing a reading challenge that forces me, well, to do exactly the opposite of what my natural instinct is shouting at me.
