We’re headed out. My last day home will be taken up with packing and last minute administrator safe-checks to keep my Hot Dwarf Sex Site running smoothly during our absence.
(Of course I’m kidding…. or am I? Am I?)
Since I’ll be tromping for a week in Yellowstone and won’t have time to visit blogs, I’ve decided to psychically project what a few of the weebles will post about ahead of time. This idea isn’t mine, btw; I stole it from another website, but it seems like a good sort of idea to robberize. Here goes:
Bountiful Healing: While I’m gone, Robin will post a stunning picture with a thoughtful, relevant quote. If I had to guess on the subject matter, hm… it will be the silhouette of a bird perched in a tree at twilight, with the accompanying words,
“The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.”
-H.W. Longfellow, from ‘The Day is Done’.
Either that or she’ll post gratuitous salad porn with accompanying quote from Bugs Bunny. Robin’s sneaky like that.
Not Quite Right: Bob will write a post about yetis and redneck romance that strikes a universal chord and makes you spurt coffee out your nose at the same time. The post will be titled, “Now Pucker-Up the Other End”
Quotidian Vicissitudes: David’s post this week will be numbered and have two or three parts. Here’s a sample of what he will write:
Two Random Dreams About My Therapist, Plus: Cracker Complaint
In the last week I have woken twice from vivid dreams that prominently featured my current therapist. While I would generally find this sort of pattern troubling, I think it is perhaps not unusual to incorporate those people into your subconscious whom you are exploring your subconscious motivations with. No, it is not the subject of the dreams that troubled me so much as the cryptic tenor of the plot lines.
1) In the first dream, my therapist and I are walking through the J.C. Penny Department Store in Lloyd Center which closed down three years ago. The store is still open in the dream, but it seems deserted. I am watching our feet as we walk down one of those endless, waxed tile aisles that go around the perimeter of department stores. I am troubled by the harsh fluorescent lighting, and confused as to the purpose of our journey. My therapist looks at me very severely every time I look up. I finally ask if we are looking for anything specific, and she replies that she will not allow me into her car again until I replace her socks. I want to request clarification, but suddenly realize that I have an orange bicycle clip on one leg, and leather loafers with absolutely no socks on underneath. I understand immediately that this is what she is referring to, and there the dream should have ended except we are making the same fruitless lap over and over, and I can’t find a sock to save my life.
Asian Ramblings: Stevo will begin to post pictures from his trips to other provinces or other countries, I’m not really sure which, but it all sounds terribly exotic. He will also hold a contest which challenges other bloggers to guess which item of clothing he is not wearing. The goal-posts may keep changing on this one, but eventually the winning blogger will score a pre-paid personality hosted by The Disney Channel. Keep your eyes peeled for a newly-fledged princess complex on one of your favorite blogs.
Stumbling along the path: Lazy Buddhist will post adorable, giant cat pictures, (eek!) but she will make up for it by incorporating funny dialogue and buddhist wisdom into her blog entry. This is the sort of picture she would be posting if this picture happened to be 1. a cat and 2. totally gigantic.
florescence: Jo will write a poem with lovely turns of phrase and precise, imaginative language. I will try to create a pre-sample of her poem, despite the fact that this is wholly impossible.
Woman Under Waterfall
She steps past the curtain
and becomes different, somehow.
She can part water, sing stone music;
shed herself for naiad.
Her voice becomes wavy,
her hair turns the colors
of a green rainbow.
Boys look, but can’t really see her-
which is a darn good thing cus
their eyeballs would melt
and slide out their eyesockets
like non-viral loogies.
They perceive only a flash, a sparkle,
something they want
but can’t grip properly.
She slips past their outstretched palms
like green jello.
(I cannot imitate her style or language, alas. Do give her a click, and see the real thing.)
The Most High and Holy Church of Jaynova: Jay will not write any posts this week. His cat will be eaten mauled by a transient zombie on Monday, and he will spend the rest of the week trying to chase it down and destroy it while relying on erratic public transportation schedules.
Mad Haiku: Mad might write a poem using specific stylistic parameters that dictate syllable and line count. I’m guessing a cinquain or a tanka. Perhaps a villanelle.
UU Deist in Texas: Jules will tease his readers with an opening that seems to allude to his blossoming relationship to the deistette in Texas, but will turn out to actually be an ode to his childhood sock monkey, Oodles. Here’s a sample:
I got used to holding you in my arms…
Today you’re in my head, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I keep thinking about your button nose, your soft, cuddly body, the way you’ve been there when I needed you. I wonder where you’re at today. Are you making someone else happy, or are you waiting for me to take you out again and treat you the way you deserve…?
(click to view post below page break)
Oodles the sock monkey was my steadfast friend growing up. He got a little worn around the edges, and I drooled on him constantly, but that just made him more personal to me… (con.)
Life in Midstream: Dan will write about fishing. You can take that one to the bank.