I know I haven't posted anything worthy lately but honestly, where is there time to think when a girl has to concentrate on snowboarding everyday, and getting a suntan, and listening to lots of Fleetwood Mac? But alas, in the midst of riding the mountain in speedy rampages, I went back and found an insert in D.Miller's "Searching For God Knows What." These are his opinions on humans from his alien point of view. (no wry comment McMurray):

Humans, as species, are constantly, and in every way, comparing themselves to one another, which, given the brief nature of their existence, seems an oddity and, for that matter, a waste. Nevertheless, this is the driving influence behind every human's social development, their emotional health and sense of joy, and, sadly, their greatest tragedies. It is as though something that helped them function and live well has gone missing, and they are pining for that missing thing in all sorts of odd methods, none of which are working. The greater tragedy is that very few people understand they have the disease. This seems strange as well because it is obvious. To be sure, it is killing them, and yet sustaining their social and economic systems. They are an entirely beautiful people with a terrible problem.

to dwell in agony or to color my view?

Put it back in my eyes. Put away the lies. Is not perspective interchangeable with choice?

The dancing made me deaf. They danced like children. Awkward, bumbling children who are not naive to their stolen toys, their fingerprinted walls, their vegetables under the napkin. Groping and knowing and relishing and hoping. I hated them all. Swirling pots of mistaken mush.

Silence raped my ears, drowning out the pleasure of the band. Skewed was my vision of the blinking disco lights as everyone breaks me while trying to fit into my mind's triangle. Now they want in. Now they see. But I'll shake it like a snow cube. Whirling around. Dancing heads become bouncing heads against the glass. Crush.

The sun came out for a minute. It was on no account of you mr. girating belt buckle. Mr. flash your one sided jacket lining, like you're selling watches in NY. That's a fancy sparkle of disgust spiraling from the chutes and ladders of your eyes. Time always tells the truth.

Put it back in my eyes. Put aways the lies. Is not perspective interchangeable with choice?

I'm writing a play. It's a real life story called "The Mountain", based off the fictional t.v. show called "The Mountain". It's about lifties. It's about snow. It's about mountains.

My budget is small and all props will be homemade. And all backgrounds will be hand drawn. Backgrounds will consist of "the mountains" and will take place in the mountains. I've already got a co-mastermind on tap. I think we're going places.

Prodding through strange lands alone

**Ha--I found this entry as I ransacked the pages of stuff I wrote while still in AL. As usual, exploring the unknown, I searched for a quiet spot to write and also to search out these alleged goats my friend Erin always sees down by the Mobile Bay. Seems fishy. In any case, this made me laugh so hard just now I thought I'd post it**

There's a strange sense that as I peddle through these waterside weeds I'm able to come upon a dead body--or maybe even an arm, waving at me no less. Or worse yet, a live body. Every 3 seconds I gleam behind me in quiet desperation of survival. With every rotation, my feet are troubled as to where they should plant themselves--either between the empty bucket of Church's Chicken, used spark plugs, discarded Marlboro Light butts, a soggy Ziplock Bag box, or an arm? ...Ahh! What the... Oh wait. Never mind.

You know what is scary though?RIGHT NOW! When I think I'm all alone and I suddenly smell fresh cigar permeating the stale air. Typical me right now, "Oh, aren't these flowers pretty, let's frolic in the marsh. Oh, hello, psycho killer from the swamp. What's your name?"

Solomon 8:6

6 Place me like a seal over your heart,
like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
like a mighty flame.
7 Many waters cannot quench love;
rivers cannot wash it away.
If one were to give
all the wealth of his house for love,
it would be utterly scorned.

2:7 Do not arouse or awaken love until she pleases
as love should develope naturally...do not force it.

don't you realize?

creeps in like a monster in the closet
but sleeps like the glazing of a setting sun

must you force yourself so nonchalantly
into a place that anyway beckoned?

abuse, unheard of
tainted love
where comprehension lacks
and presumed river flows

my face is BURIED.
MY face is buried.
but a familiar one trots and sports
and loves and glows
near you, funny thing,
all over Texas.

Sinched solice so solid
so it be
drip drop darling
tick tock darling
fury following father
finding me

eat it
weep it
lead it

contored control contracts
contrary to him
raging rampant rules
rarely not dim

Waking up next to you...(Next to you on the other side of the wall)--it's like having the pleasure of wrestling...you and I know...smoking our Luckys. They say true love is hard to find. Do I disagree? Debatable.

Bent backwards all squirmishly excited, like crawling out of bed trying not to wake you; I tiptoe alone trying not to wake the awareness of my heart.

It's 62 degrees. I don't want the temperature to change. I don't want you to know how I sneak around, childlike defiance, from your tower like arms as they pull me toward you, biting my bottom lip in painful restraint.

Have you the power of willful observation? OR must I unfold my tablecloth of mysteries onto your platform of subconscious questions? You say it's the idiosyncratic quirks emitted from the character of your puppetry that motivates your love. Not pinpointed. Not deserved. Naturally silly and beautifully obsessively compulsive--even to a breaking point. But where do you study? Personally, I've never heard the lectures on your discoveries. Have you written this alleged dissertation or does the research remain to be fulfilled?

Do not arouse or awaken love until she pleases, I tell myself. Let love develope naturally, do not force it. Oh dammed patience. Oh poor me. ha ha.

bitter sweet

Way before the sunshine I'm up like a curse
Rumbling in my stomach, my thoughts are diverse
Why can't I sleep,
Put away this crazy heart
Don't read into things, emotions are fraught.

I toss and turn, sheets tight like cocoon
Pillow on my head, avoiding the stare of the moon
It knows me...it's seen this kind before
Wrought, twisted, happy, confused
I can't sleep so just let me ponder and adore

My knees ache, my teeth hurt, my heart insanely curious
My intangible fantasyland leaves me hanging furious.
Skewed is my mind, intertwined with delved possibilities.
Let me drown in my love for you,
For you reciprocating is no reality.

This line just in......(I think it wins)

"You're the only reason I'd ever become a cannibal."