I blog cause I love

My week thus far:

Leave house at 6.20 am, watch sunrise as I drive, arrive in thick rush hour traffic, arrive 10 minutes late for training that begins at 8 am. Sit through training for 8 hours. Drive home 15 lbs heavier because of the paperwork.

Long effing days people. Two more to go. Wee-hee!!

But I blog 'cause I love.

I am training in the same city this story occurred in. I haven't been back since really. This journey I take each morning, into this crowded city, is stirring all sorts of things in my belly and head.

But no, not now. No laying it bare right now. My dogs is barking.

Instead you get photos of the wee studio apartment that housed the pig's head. The walk in closet of the studio, housed my army cot. The main area served as living quarters for my artist friend. He of the pig instillation art piece.

Really, this city took my innocence. I was a babe in these woods. I was nineteen, decided to take a year off of school, had never seen an African American, was a radical feminist. I was very aggressive, yet kind and loving in so many ways.

I was easy pickin' for psychopaths and confidence men. I am lucky I made it out alive really. I use to smoke American Spirits and walk around at three am, all buzzy. I was without rules or obligations. It was a long, punk and naked year.

And then there was getting hit by a car. Seven fractures of the skull...Coma for a week . . Ya'll don't need to hear this. Not now anyway.

Ok back to the studio apartment. Again, the one with the pig's head that had a patch sewn into it.

PHOTOS!!

This is outside the wee studio apartment, through a window. The yellow bike was mine. It was on the first floor (duh). Take note of the back of the photo. You can make out a fridge and a stove. This will be important later. You can click the photos to make them bigger BTW.






Walking straight back from the first photo, you will find the kitchen. Note the sink. You could lean against the wall while you were doing dishes. The fridge was facing the stove. So you couldn't open the fridge and the oven door at the same time, lest the clang together.




BEHOLD: My first writing instrument, my beloved Brother word processor. The front folded down and was the key board (click here to see a picture of a Brother word processor.) The paper's taped to the front are from a journal I was published in (it was a local college journal).



It had it's own floppy disks. Mr. Hall lovingly transferred all my writing onto this very computer I am blogging from. Maybe I will find my older stuff someday. Alas, the Brother is no more. You can wikipedia the brother word processor if you would like. It makes me too sad to find it.


And, in the spirit of realizing all about the dark side and becoming quite coated in it.

The Toadies "Possum Kingdom"



I could write about any number of things from that time. Let's do some word association. Ya'll throw out random words and I will match a story to it from my year abroad. Limit three.

ROCK ON READERS and FELLOW BLOGGERS!!!

Here's to letting paying heed to the muse, even when you're tired and crabby.