 | |
| ::: ::: Journal entries: ::: ::: ::: Artifact:
Would you believe JB actually tried to give me shit for having "store-purchased" Halloween stuff in the house rather than lovingly hand crafted Martha-esque creations? So I used a decorative hole punch to bash him in the head and a hot glue gun to affix his lifeless body to some origami paper and then I scrapped his crtitical ass.
| Monday, October 24, 2005 Right now there's a tree behind our house that's turned the most spectacular shade of yellow, its branches reach over the backyard and shine like they're lit by the summer sun on this oh-so-autumn day. The air smells like burnt firewood and crisp apples and fog. Leaves have been falling; leaves have fallen - great piles of brown castoffs, wet and limp, they look like soggy Raisin Bran. I can look out the windows and see a cyclamen still flaunting its silly pink bloom, birds lined along the fence and jostling for a shot at the feeder. The trees are alive with busy gravity-defying squirrels, a furry Cirque de Soleil that fills Dog with outrage and so she runs barking along the fenceline, trampling the pretty burgundy millet I planted a month ago. When she comes back in the house I'll have to wipe her paws, I'll have to vacuum maple seeds from the carpet. Inside, there's a baby that looks not unlike a squirrel himself, with his round cheeks and bright almond eyes, a baby who smiles now when his nose is beeped, a baby who can sleep through the great shootout scene in Heat but for some reason jolts awake at the clatter and clack of fingers on a keyboard; listen, there he goes now, we'll have to go to the photos, folks, because those I can post one-handed. (Heh. "Post one-handed". Dirty.)
|
