a new month already?

june is french pressed coffee drinking, cultural anthropologing, nashvilling with the A [and B and W] team[ing], american pop culturizing, conan[do]-ing, summer quilting, costume shopping, movie going, book reading, taking time for walking, music listening all without a side of sleeping.

hey summa.

[dont] fear the reader.

a bit of my cross-country project.
starring frederick the polar bear with chaucer the teddy bear.

onward to discover america more!

the college of an eraser.

i really love being stuck inside my head with my thoughts.

wait. wheres the toast? waiter!

you know that feeling when you suddenly feel [redundancy heather...] that everything is going to be a-okay?

yep, i had that one today.
driving across beale air force base. pass the cows under trees and the wild turkeys. all while listening to the intro of "american girl" by tom petty.

aw shucks. thanks tom.
:she was an american girl:

seem awfully appropriate on a US military installation. ah, zee irony.

oh new post. three months later.

im certain i can find something really easy [too easy] to rhyme with later.
but more on that...[wait for it]...later. ha pun.

seventh day in california. beautiful and hot here. turkeys. gophers. mysterious breaking glass [i think it was a gopher]. musical crickets i swear. and wildfires around PAVE PAWS.
everything one would want california to be.

and im blogging at 5 am because i just woke up nauseated. but boy am i glad i woke up.
they say that the average person [dont know whether im above, equal to, or below] swallows seven spiders in their lifetime.
i just woke up to meet what i believe is number three.

i named him sinclair.

freetown, thats the capital of sierra leone.

i wrote this years ago and finally felt the need to post it.
i entitled it 'long division.' guy patching performed it as a monologue in the fall of 2006.

It was the dead of winter in January of 1995. Christmas trees and decorations had already been taken down and the only ones that remained were haunting remnants that the holiday season and cheer were far gone. At Adrian Burnett Elementary School in Mrs. Widener's 3rd and 4th grade split class, the children worked diligently on their assignments as the morning passed. It was not an extraordinary day in the slightest bit and not one soul in the room expected what was soon coming. A tall, blonde woman came into the room without knocking. She was wearing a calf-length, leather trench coat and her long, straight hair was pulled into a french twist. She quietly motioned for the teacher and spoke to her quietly. Very few of the children in the room knew this woman, let alone her purpose there.

However, as a bony, awkward girl of eight looked up from her long division, she saw her mother standing over her.

"Heather, your mother is going to take you home now," Mrs. Widener said in a calm, collected voice.

No one spoke, not even to say good-bye to Heather. Perhaps they all knew what she did not.

As Heather and her mother walked out of the school building, Heather's mom, Cindy, began to sob.

"What is it mom?" she asked casually.
"Nothing darlin', nothing at all. Just wait until we get home."
"Did someone die? Did papaw die, mom?"

Silence.

The drive to their condominium was unmemorable. Heather racked her mind to think of the possibilities of why her mother was not at work and why she was now out of school. The front door opened into the living room and down the hall into the kitchen stood Dene, Cindy's fiancé. There was no lights on in the condo, just the natural light flowing in from the windows.

Dene and Cindy nodded to each other with careless recognition and then Cindy pulled herself down to one knee onto Heather's eye level.

"Heather, your father committed suicide this morning. He's gone sweetheart."

It's funny what one notices when they are told grieving news. Heather did not scream wildly or cry out for answers.

On the contrary she suddenly remembered she hadn't finished her long division or even put it back in her desk. Her mother embraced her, sobbing all the while. It wasn't her papaw who has died. It was her father. No tears came to her eyes, only the vision of the blank television screen behind her mother.

introducing a new monthly homophone.

i dont enjoy being angry on this thing.

it would be absolutely utterly amazing if you were excited for my opening. if you even wished me happy opening. if you even acknowledged that i have worked my ass off these past few months for this show.

no, maybe i shouldnt be upset. i havent even realized its opening tonight. yah, you're right. there's no reason for today to be exciting or special. okay. right, yah. yah. i havent been stressed about the show or even anxious. ive been entirely calm. everything is running smoothly. and that mildly stresses me out. the no stress is rather stressful. its just a beautiful [adoringly beautiful] sunday here in knoxville.

"ill just call you later if i get a chance."