Tag Archives: random

Bad, Bad Brain! Tell Your Brain Who’s Boss

My brain has wandered off, it seems. It no longer respects my authority. I give it sudokos, flax oils and restful sleep. Is it thankful? No.

There are days when you simply cannot come up with anything interesting, relevant, or creative to share with the wide world. Days when your brain needs a stern talking-to. I am having a series of those days, currently. Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s the change in seasons. Maybe I need a good vacation.

I don’t know what I need. Is there such a thing as a creativity doula? Someone who would come over to my apartment, rearrange my furniture, and guide me through the birth of some cool ideas? Is that how the pros do it?

How do you make your mind cooperate? Tell me of your secrets.

Things About Stuff: An Analysis

These are just random thoughts with no order or meaning. To badly paraphrase Mark Twain: “Persons attempting to find any coherence here will be shot.”

BvCX74SIcAALeKXIn the News: Jean Shaheen, Scott Brown’s main opponent in the race for the U.S. Senate race in New Hampshire, has been followed around by a man in a chicken suit for the last couple weeks on the campaign trail. Is he working for Scott Brown or the Republican party? How does one get that gig? Craigslist? Or is he a whale-belt wearing Republican under that feathered suit?

Are men necessary? Well, yes. I have nothing against men, honestly. I like men. Some of them, anyway. Not the guy who I saw riding his bike over by the Museum of Science the other day, screaming into the wind. I have a feeling we wouldn’t get along. Sometimes you just know.

But nothing. Boring.


I will look for you. I will find you. And I will kill you.

Apropos of nothing: I’m pretty sure Liam Neeson filmed a movie in Warsaw about 8 years ago about a concerned father, and some genius producer has been rehashing it into “new movies” every year since.



I downloadwonder if maybe I’m just meant to be a loner. A rebel. A serious artist. A manifesto writer. A skeletal intellectual with the complexion of Ayn Rand and the fashion sense of a young Lotte Lenya. That’s right. I put the “mmm” in “school marm.”

Morose Musings on Mollusks, Mullets and Mercury

These are merely random musings, and do not necessitate any 9-1-1 calls.

I hate Hump Day, and I hate people who say Hump Day. I’m pretty sure literally everyone feels the same way.

I want to slather Vaseline on my face and then wrap it in swaddling towels with a tiny hole in the front for looking out. Then just lay on my couch watching Suze Orman lecturing some dude about his IRA. Stupid idiot. You need a Roth.

Maybe I could order a box of romance books and then set them on fire. I doubt my landlady would appreciate that, but what does she know of hearbreak? Continue reading