Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Eternal September

I think September just became my favorite month of the year.

(NOW I FINALLY HAVE AN ANSWER TO FILL IN -THAT- QUESTION IN THOSE LIVEJOURNAL MEMES I NEVER DO.)

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Still Life

Every picture tells a story.

(I just haven't been motivated enough to write them down...yet.)

Broken Bone

OH, WAIT, ALSO --

Strawberry mug? The one that I broke immediately after making two separate strawberry offerings? It was - officially - Italics's mother's mug. Apparently, while they were away this weekend (while I was breaking their kitchen ceramics), she mysteriously broke a tooth...

...oops?

I'M GONNA GIVE THIS ONE A PASS, JOHN.

(LOL, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO THE FUCK "JOHN" IS OR WHERE THAT CAME FROM. LET'S JUST PRETEND I WAS THINKING ABOUT BILL O'REILLY GOING "WHAT'S JOHN EDWARDS SELLING AWNINGS FOR? LOL, WHAT'S JOHN EDWARDS DOING THAT FOR? LOL! JOHN EDWARDS, LOL!" SO IT SEEMS LIKE I SORT'VE HAVE IT TOGETHER.)

(I HAVE IT MAGNIFICENTLY TOGETHER, THANK YOU. AND DINNER WILL BE SERVED IN ABOUT 20 MINUTES.)

Impressive Hernia

So I said PLEASE, GOD, SHOW ME A SIGN, SHOW ME ANY SORT OF SIGN SO I KNOW THAT IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL! (See FINAL ANSWER.) Wait, wait, I can actually copy and paste shit - LOL!- so I believe a direct quote would be:

At 1:12 AM today (the day of the full moon, the day of Harvest Moon) I found this "stat" waiting for me:

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When I traced back the search there were only nine web sites that Google even listed for "impressive hernia"; Graveyard Dirt, out of that nine, was number five. (FIVE IS A MAGIC NUMBER!) Regardless of the numbers (BECAUSE 7+1=8 AND 8 FITS -RIGHT NOW- SO THAT'S ANOTHER NUMERICAL THUMBS UP!), I think I just got my answer.

Hiatal hernia, here we come?

(OH, WAIT THAT'S MISSING SOMETHING! I WONDER WHAT IT COULD BE? OH, THAT'S RIGHT, -IMPRESSIVE-! IMPRESSIVE HIATAL HERNIA, HERE WE COME?)

OH, INTERNET, DON'T LISTEN TO WHAT THE NEO-H8ERS SAY, YOU'RE -TOTALLY- MAGIC!

Strawberry Mug

I gave the last three to the old woman. (The last nicest three.) The last overripe plum, the last three nicest strawberries, a crust of stale rye bread, and a shot of apple cider. TEH-BEH YEAST-EH, BAH-BAH. (She's old, She knows what I mean.) Her plate and glass are sitting on the back step next to the wooden chair leg that we used to beat the ice off the outside freezer two or three weeks ago.

("YOU BROUGHT THE SNOW AGAIN," ITALICS SAID, AND I SNORTED, DUMPING ANOTHER BUCKET FULL OF MELTING SLUSH ONTO THE SUMMER GRASS. THAT NIGHT THE MIST SWIRLED AROUND THE LAMPLIGHT LIKE THE EXORCIST; I CAUGHT MY FATHER-IN-LAW STARING INTO THE DENSE FOG MUMBLING "IT'LL BE FROSTY TONIGHT" TO MY MOTHER-IN-LAW. SHE LAUGHED - "DON'T BE SILLY!" - AND BROKE THE SPELL. HE DIDN'T KNOW THAT SNOW PASSED THROUGH MY HANDS EARLIER IN THE EVENING, BUT HE KNEW.)

Then there were five left, and five - as we all know! - is a magic number. So those five, naturally, went out to the hedgehogs just after I spoke to the wind and cold, just after I invited Her to eat, just after setting Her plate of overripe fruit and stale bread and booze on the back step next to the sun bleached, wooden chair leg used to shatter a layer of overgrown ice off the outside freezer way, way too long ago.

AND IMMEDIATELY FUCKING AFTER FEEDING HER STRAWBERRIES, AFTER FEEDING THE HEDGEHOG STRAWBERRIES ONE OF THE OLDEST GODDAMN COFFEE MUGS IN THE FUCKING HOUSE SLIPS OUT OF MY MOTHERFUCKING HAND WHEN I'M DOING THE DISHES AND SHATTERS AGAINST ANOTHER COFFEE MUG ALREADY LOADED IN THE DISHWASHER.

THE DESIGN OF THE NOW BROKEN COFFEE MUG? THE DESIGN OF WHICH THERE WAS ONLY -ONE OF- THAT I EVER REMEMBERED SINCE MOVING HERE NEARLY EIGHT YEARS AGO?

STRAWBERRIES.

Let's Exchange the Experience

First windstorm night; pulled and tied gusts in fluttering apron just after midnight. I'M THE OLD WOMAN, THE WASHER, AND I BRING THE RAIN. (She's getting closer to the top of the hill.) It crashed and hissed and exploded like wings (surf breaking? only a lobster, clinging to the ground...) and when the cold air touched the small of my back I arched and shuddered in the darkness, my fingers knotted around the old white cotton of my wedding dress, holding the wind and feeling the weight of the world bear down on me as I inched up the hill.

Happy 100 posts, baby.

Sickle Bandits

WE STOLE A SICKLE. Wait, strike that out because that's so...wrong (i.e., "STEAL" or "TO STEAL" or "STEALING"). We needed a sickle and one was there during //THE PERFECT MOMENT//, and we enthusiastically accepted the gift from the universe.

(This was AFTER I tried to figure out to forage in the walled garden - peas were still there (the rats LOVE peas, and love tearing into pea pods to remove said peas), gourds, lettuce, lemon balm, and OMFG - TOBACCO?! But I didn't take anything because I stupidly didn't bring my SPECIAL SHEARS with me (the pair that stabbed me back in May; the pair that has seen WAY TOO MUCH OF THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB so the lamb now keeps them wrapped up in the same kitchen towel that was used to staunch the bleeding) and, really, I didn't have any space or proper storage and the one bag I did have ended up getting stuffed with mushrooms we picked from a fairy ring beneath a tree. <- When we go for cemetery walks I have a pre-packed bag I take with me that has scissors, string, various plastic bags, paper towels, baby wipes, etc. so I'm /prepared/ when I come across something - which I always do - that needs to come home with me (usually in the form of roadkill).)

Besides, during my Ebay traveling I had found an ANTIQUE HAY CUTTER and I was all "OH MY FUCKING GOD - WE NEED THAT! CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR ITALICS, CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR ITALICS, CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR ITALICS!" (actually, I had planned on maybe giving it to him as a sort've Harvest gift, so we could use it for Reaping) and was crazy ecstatic when I won it for the opening bid of £0.99. I was significantly less ecstatic, however, WHEN THE SICKLE NEVER APPEARED, THE SELLER REFUSED TO ANSWER EMAILS AND THEIR ACCOUNT WAS FORCIBLY CLOSED BY EBAY PERSONAL.

So clearly, surely, without any question or a shadow of doubt, we had that antique sickle coming. (IF THE WORLD, UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING HOLY DIDN'T WANT US TO HAVE A SICKLE THEY WOULD'VE NEVER WITHHELD THE FIRST ONE, USHERED US OVER TO THE WALLED GARDEN AND THEN SIMPLY LEFT THE MOCK-VICTORIAN GARDENER'S DEN DISPLAY UNLOCKED WITH VARIOUS SHARP AND VINTAGE IMPLEMENTS HANGING UNLOVED, UNUSED ON DUSTY, FORGOTTEN WALLS.)

Stone Fruit Season

IMMORTALITY THROUGH WRITING? LOL, ONLY IF YOU'RE THE CHARACTER! BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME AROUND, BRAH! (LOL @ THE ATHEISTS WHO WON'T BE SITTING THE RETEST.)

(THE SHEER FABRIC OF TIME AND SPACE AND EVERYTHING THAT IS ANYTHING COULD SPLIT IN HEAVENLY GLORY BEFORE MY EYES AND I'D STILL BE ALL "...BUT I STILL DON'T ACTUALLY -KNOW-, YOU KNOW?". EVEN THEN.)

(I GUESS I WILL SOMEDAY.)

(LOL, "I GUESS"! LIKES IT'S SOME SORT OF VOLUNTARY CHOICE!)

(LOL @ THIS ONE HANDED DISCUSSION TAKING PLACE AS JUICE FROM A HALF-EATEN PLUM RUNS DOWN MY ARM LIKE BLOOD.)

(OH, SYMBOLISM. <3.)

Nothin' on but the Radio

FUCK.

I just realized, just now, how little of my summer was spent in the bottoms of string bikinis and nothing else ("BUT THE RADIOOOOOO!", and, uh, a pair of sunglasses) and listening BROTHERS IN ARMS as loud as fucking possible on the turn table in the backroom leading into the garden whilst weeding my container plants.

(IT'S AN ANNUAL EVENT, YOU KNOW. DIRE STRAITS AND HALF PARTS OF BIKINIS AND GARDENING WITHOUT SUNBLOCK. HOWEVER, THIS YEAR, WE WEREN'T GIVEN THE PLEASURE OF HAVING WEATHER NICE ENOUGH TO WARRANT ANY OF THE ABOVE. SIGH.)

(GODBLESS MARK KNOPFLER AND THE EVOCATIVE, IMMORTALIZED SOUND OF ANTICIPATION THAT IS KNOWN AS THE BEGINNING OF MONEY FOR NOTHING. (IT AT ONCE MAKES ME FEEL YOUNG -AND- OLD, BLESS THE TIMELESSNESS AND DATEDNESS OF THOSE FIRST FEW BARS OF MUSIC!))

Our neighbors? They positively love me (especially when I decide to throw on W.A.S.P.'s Animal / Fuck Like a Beast).

("THAT'S THE WAY TO DO IT"? LULZ.)

This ain't a scene

So two days ago Italics tells me I'll never be able to leave Livejournal because I'm from Chicago and was born in the 80s and I just laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and became really fucking nostalgic for Shed's mausoleum in Rosehill, that one Thai place on the corner of Clark and Belmont (YOU GOT TO SIT ON PILLOWS ON THE FLOOR, OKAY?), and the free admission day of the Art Institute on Michigan Avenue.

JESUS, I AM EMO'S BITCHY (AND WAY, WAY COOLER) OLDER SISTER.

(CHRIST.)

Two Out of Three

OKAY, LAST ONE I PROMISE:

LOL, THE THING IS, I KNOW WHEN PEOPLE READ THIS SITE / MY ENTRIES THEY PROBABLY THINK "WTF IS THIS CRAZY BITCH ON?" (POT, MOSTLY, BTW, WITH A DAILY DOSE OF OMEPRAZOLE TO KEEP MY STOMACH FROM TURNING INTO AN ACID PIT) BUT IT -ALL MAKES PERFECT, AMAZING SENSE TO ME-.

...EXCEPT FOR WHATEVER THE FUCK I'M QUOTING ABOVE.

I HAVE FUCKING NO CLUE AS TO WHAT I WAS ON, WHAT THE FUCK I WAS TALKING ABOUT, OR EVEN THE YEAR IT TOOK PLACE. (LOL! APRIL FOOLS? JESUS.)

(TWO OUT OF THREE AIN'T BAD?)

Recipe for a Handjob

I was thumbing through some of my old notes and came across this passage and couldn't help but LOL AT MYSELF (because my PAST SELF still manages to amuse my CURRENT and FUTURE SELF):

LORD, I STILL HAVE THAT BOTTLE OF PERFUME AND BOTTLE OF SALT -SOMEWHERE-. (I THINK IT'S IN THE NEGRO'S DRAWER WHICH MEANS IT COULD LITERALLY BE -ANYWHERE IN THIS UNIVERSE- KNOWING HOW THAT MESS LOOKS.)

(IF HE THINKS HE AIN'T GOING TO CLEAN UP THAT MESS WHEN HE COMES HOME HIS DISTINCTLY BLACK, BONY ASS HAS ANOTHER THING COMING. <- THERE ARE PROS AND CONS LIVING WITH AN ANAL WHITE WOMAN WHO HATES CLUTTER, AND HE KNOWS IT. <- LOL @ THE SO MANY JOKES THERE.)

Sunrise Over Scotland

Today I woke up to a rainbow and Fox's Wedding, so the very first thing I did - before pissing, before making a cup of tea, before saying good morning to the rats - was tie on Our apron and collect rain in the folds while watching the sunrise over Scotland.

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(NOT EVERY TIME IS ALL STORMS AND LIGHTENING AND THUNDER, OKAY? SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO CATCH THE RAINBOWS AND SUMMER DRIZZLE TO -BALANCE THINGS OUT-!)

(LOL, I AM COMPLETELY JOKING 100%, BTW. ABOUT THE RAINBOWS AND BALANCE SHIT, I MEAN.)

(I WAS, IN FACT, STANDING IN MY DASHIKI IN THE BACK GARDEN IN MY BARE FEET JUST BEFORE EIGHT IN THE MORNING COLLECTING RAIN IN AN APRON I APPROPRIATED FROM MY MOTHER-IN-LAW THAT WAS WORN AS MY -FOR SERIOUS- WEDDING DRESS THIS YEAR BECAUSE YOU GOT TO MAKE SURE YOU GET -ALL KINDS OF RAIN-, NOT JUST THE BLISTERY KIND, WHEN DOING THIS CAILLEACH / WEATHER STUFF. BUT I WASN'T DOING IT TO "BALANCE THINGS OUT", SO LET'S NOT BE CONFUSED WHATSOEVER.)

(I MEAN, LOL, WTF YOU THINK THIS SHIT IS, LLEWELLYN?)

Practice Round

From some livejournal entry written back in 2007:

"Saw the doctor; was prescribed another 40 penicillin pills. (*FACE*) I've had two doses, so far, but the right tonsil's ballooned up anyway, which means Italics will have to be on a TonsilWatch07 to make sure it doesn't go green in the next 24 hours. I go through phases of being depressed ("OH WOE, WHY ME...AGAIN?") and phases of being zen ("EVERYTHING FOR A REASON!")."

While I appreciate that my hospital stay was a necessity - and I'm forever grateful that the test was bestowed upon my ass - I'd like to be able to be in a place where I can start applying what I've learned. Home is safe and is sanctuary, so, for me, it's the world outside this little square called "home" where I interact with a non-familiar environment (and the people within) to try and use what I've (hopefully) learned."

That, apparently, was the practice round...I just didn't know it at the time.

The BEST Chocolate Box Day

FIRST DAY OF CHOCOLATE BOX DAY!

(LOL, YOU KNOW THE SAD THING? THAT I'VE HAD SEVERAL -PROFOUND- THOUGHTS / REALIZATIONS TODAY, AND THE BEST I COULD DO IN MY PERSONAL JOURNAL / DIARY IS "YOU KNOW WHAT THE BEST CHOCOLATE BOX DAY IS? THE -FIRST DAY-!".)

The Last Reap

Harvest Moon in Pisces? I like that.

Seven Sorrows

It's so tiny and delicate; I have no idea what I'm going to do with it...

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From the Seller:
"Sterling silver French vintage replica religious center of Seven Sorrows Pierced Heart cast in antiqued sterling silver using the lost wax method. Approx. 3/4"."

Our Lady of Sorrows on Wiki.

Graveside Offerings

Remember to buy a Cream LP for P.T.'s grave. Also, remember to look up where he's buried.