• Fiction

    The Coy Muse

    She reached for the glass of wine balanced precariously on a tall stack of books that was standing in for a coffee table. She had very little in the small apartment, but the books spilled from boxes and bags and infused a sense of purpose and prescience to the atmosphere. Soft sounds of her limbs sliding against each other and the pencil’s musical whispers created a quiet symphony of  “shhhhhh.” Her hand, wrapped around the yellow wood, transferred secrets from her head onto the pillow of the paper. One painting sat propped against the bare wall in front of her – six free-standing, ivory candles burning beside it. Periodically, she…

  • Experience

    Setting the stage

    I don’t have the happiest marriage right now (haven’t for some time). It’s not as strong as it should be or could be. It’s like a starving, feral kitten that I just found under the porch. Or more aptly, it’s an abused dog that’s been chained to the fence and now growls (understandably) every time I try to get near. I’m not saying I’m the only one at fault for the condition of our relationship. No, our history is long, varied, and very much of OUR making. We, like many spouses, have done things to each other…ugly things…things that will never be forgotten, even if they are forgiven. I’m certain…

  • Experience

    Promise not to tell…

    As an amateur writer, I worry that I just won’t have enough time to keep a blog up, that it shouldn’t be a priority when I’ve got a struggling marriage, a difficult child, and a mentally-challenging, full-time (paying) job. I only have so many fucking hours in a day, and as it is, I struggle to make the best use of them. It’s how my soul speaks. And how my head listens. I also worry about sharing my innermost personal details on the internet…the honesty it takes, and the intricate web that must be woven to protect myself from being “found out.”   But writing…   It doesn’t really matter what…

  • Experience

    And, yet again, I rise…

    For those of you who have followed me in the past, I know my regeneration seems to happen on a regular basis, followed closely by a crash, an absence, (short or long), and yet another phoenix-like rebirth. It makes it hard to trust a blogger, when she periodically goes missing, comes back and promises she’ll stay, only to turn around and disappear again. I’m like a very bad girlfriend. And though it probably isn’t fair to use mental illness as an excuse, I’m going to. Between the bi-polar disorder, waxing and waning libido, marital issues, and exhaustion, I just haven’t been a very reliable writer. So, it’ll take some time…

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