Hi again.

This is a photo of something bloggish and relaxing so that your eyes are not bored. I saw it when I had a lunch break from doing something exciting.

Is that cryptic? I’m really sorry. I’ve gotten really burnt out on the internet and social media in general. I could blame a lot of things. The political climate just…everywhere. The general level of discourse. Cyber overcrowding. My basic moodiness. But I’ve been good and fine and happy and stuff. Just normal me. And I’ve been busy and the things I used to complain about here are mostly mischiefmanaged and all that.

I’m not ready to get into specifics. I’m really just kind of feeling “why”ish and lazy about it. I want to do the stuff that might get me paid and/or that promises emotional or experience payoffs that benefit me or people I care for in some way. I don’t want to type into a vacuum. But there was something that this blogging did for me. I’m trying to remember it. Maybe when I do and I can form a sentence about that, I will do more of it. Stay tuna-ed…



casual update

Today I am going to post in this blog. It is not going to get overly cerebral. It is not going to get weird. I am not going to write an apology, or a long treatise on where I’ve been and why I havejourneyed there. I’m not going into long metaphors about dental hygiene or my cats.


I actually don’t know what I’m going to say.

I used to know the purpose of blogging. It was like a public diary. Of course people wanted to know everything about me. I’m terribly interesting. Right? Of course. Now that we got that out of the way.

The problem was when the internet got mean and no one thinks other people are interesting anymore. It’s what my great (possibly great-great) aunt Mamie used to call “making the game schmeary.”

This is a situation of playing Uno and you keep getting all the skips and reverses and draw fours (none of the other wild cards where you can just peacefully change the color and move on). And the person to your right (where the direction of play is heading) keeps getting slammed by what they think are your dastardly dealings of death and pain. Draw 2. Draw 2 again. Oh. A Skip. Then someone else skips to you then you lay down a Wild Draw 4. You’ve said “uno” every time. In fact, one time you said it slow and they viciously said “UNO” at the same time but everyone at the table said “nooooooo,” that you got it in in time and now player-to-the-right is turning into a thunderous raincloud right before your eyes and the living room is about to be a category 5.

Scores are tallied. You’re only 3 rounds in and you were going to play 5. or six. But player on your right THROWS the cards into the air (you find the one of the missing Blue 4s two weeks later, chewed up by cats) and storms out and that’s the end of this metaphor. But did you MEAN to draw all those cards? Were you supposed to be NICE about it and just rack up the points so that they could win? Apparently so …….. apparently you’re supposed to let the wookie win or he tears your arms off.

This is not the way that things should work, and I said that I wasn’t going to do this but this is why I don’t write much internet anymore or post and why nobody can have nice things or coffee and pie in public. Unnnngh and flargh. You have all heard this before. “Go brush your teeth, Denise!”

Obviously the card throwers of the world are making the game schmeary and if you hold your breath and kick and scream in the cereal aisle because mommy won’t buy you Count Chocula then you are a SPOILT BRAT, right? This should happen across the board RIGHT? RIGHT??!?!

Does it happen? No. Some people can just have and do whatever they want. Some people can just WALTZ down fifth avenue and…

no. I wasn’t going to do that. Who cares? Who listens? Does this even HELP. So no. Not from me …

NOT TODAY! (throws improv dagger)

I will talk about improv tomorrow. I will talk more about myself, soon. Because I will come back here tomorrow (or soon) and write here in this blog some more (or soon).


Hell in a

I thought I’d write a blog, as I haven’t in a while and my whole personality feels changed and like stars that aren’t allowed to live in space.

1. The fact that my blogging came to a grinding halt around the month of that Particular Election and then just gross weird sputters is not a coincidence.

2. I have not been on social media much. But everyone is done past hearing about this. I get on twitter sometimes to check in and sometimes post things about issues I care about.

I cared a lot about coming out day, and thusly said nothing. Paradox? Maybe. It’s a little confusing.

I went to the capitol and participated in some government enough to notice the futility of such things. Remember government? It’s REALLY hard to do government. The rules are always changing and if you want to do anything to make a difference you have to spend a lot of time researching stuff that they are trying to sneak past deadlines at the last minute in the dead of night and change at the eleventh hour. Nothing is sure and nothing is permanent. And the odds are always stacked. It takes lots of money and lots of time. That’s my take on absolutely every single issue ever that matters. Its all very crooked and not at all honest, seemly, or above board. It’s all dirty pool and immoral as hell. And nothing you want comes to pass except failure and evil triumphing. (not always, but hell….) And I’m sorry I just feel tired and cynical a lot now after mostly silently trying and just failing to make a damn bit of difference.

3. As usual, my breath could improve.

4. America as a nation is living on borrowed time. I have no idea if we can work out our differences here and survive as a nation. I don’t see an America as we know it even existing in fifty years (maybe less). The post apocalyptic worlds we acted out in my improv class during the summer intensive program I took felt eerie, like something cresting just over a possible horizon. And this probably is true in other nations as well, it just might look slightly cosmetically better or maybe way worse…. Or maybe other countries are probably also just kidding themselves and its all probably just a matter of time before everything goes to hell as humans are all shitty people to one another.

5. I tried to go on a diet, “for my health.” It didn’t go well. I’ll try this again next week. This has been a stupid year for food and me. This is a long series of dumb stories I’ll discuss later in life.

6. Back here at home, the only thing to wonder over is whether or not there will be a United States of anything at all, or whether it will be torn apart completely by warring extreme factions and then will descend entirely into anarchy. I’m not personally invested in any outcome–hoping only that as many humans as possible can continue to view one another with compassion and dignity and not break down into a state where we are hunting each other through the streets for food and sport. I hope if those days come, I am not marked as an enemy just because I’m not loudly present in some mob calling for heads and blood.

7. I have some seriously intelligent cats. Genius level. A lot of peopl THINK their cats and children are this level of smart. But mine actually are. They invented a cat language to talk to me, and their own games with complicated kitty rules. Make of this what you will.

8. I have not written any songs in well over a year, except for one in which I am sarcastic and talk about how corn is nasty. Because of my 😂vast😂 and diverse audience I shouldn’t link to it–as it has an Extreme Swear Word in it and I do try at times to be Seemly.

It feels frivolous to make music, like I should be making social commentary instead. Then I read my social commentary and think that my point of view is irrelevant and privileged.

9. I started doing improv, about six months ago. Only doing things that were entertaining and spontaneous and ready-made, DIY sorts of productions … only that seems real and relevant in these times. This is not the right way to think about the subject of improv at large…and is not the point of improv at all. The point of improv is fun and child mind…at least I think so.

I felt like soon we shall all be in roving bands of survivors and will need people with Art Memories. People who could call to mind dramatic form or the ways of storytelling or who could record quickly into any phone or tape or format or play/dance/act any collection of ragtag materials. Anything to tell a tale or song or some semblance of the way things were. The tellers of tales. As we sit by fires in whatever we can scrape together. Mourning the loss of all we were in the last days of our precious “civilization.” Sorry. That got weird. I’ll try again later. I’m crusty at this.

Also, everytime I try to do a thing these days I am interrupted often because these are the days of almost constant interruption. This is why you see less of me. It is as though I have forgotten I have a butt and cannot remember how to sit down!

a blog about nothing.

1. I was going to write a Facebook note, but decided against it. Remember notes? Notes were cool. I liked notes. I was going to write one and I figured if my Friends got to the bottom of the note, then they will have read the whole thing. I supposed if they got through it without complaining of boredom, then I’d keep writing them. Or maybe I wouldn’t. Who knows.
2. That’s a photo of me in my 20s playing the guitar. Yesterday, it was my birthday. I’m 43 now. Then just right there below is a photo of me now. Pretty freaky!
3. I think perhaps I’m tired or something. I’ve really been dragging lately. I’ve decided to try these goofy new supplements. I’m not going to discuss them with the internet, but we’ll see how they go. I put a LOT of work into researching them and they go really well with all my medicine that I am not admitting to taking or saying that I don’t take either. In fact, this paragraph didn’t even happen. I don’t even exist. Just move on to the next thing.
4. I once described this as the Seinfeld of blogs. When I did this, my husband sent me this link which went into vast details about post-modern thought in comedy and how things had evolved. I was not amused and felt like I was being told that my sense of humor was an asshole and that people ten years younger or so than me were a kinder, more intellectual and evolved species of human. This irked me and made me think that I was being told I was some kind of artistic orangutan. I think that my reticence to make everything I write into some kind of a morality play because I don’t WANT to be that ethically superior person dates me. Or maybe it doesn’t.
5. I have a headache.
6. I’m not making excuses.
7. I need a newer computer. Or maybe I just THINK I do. Maybe I can wait. I haven’t decided yet. I think we just THINK we need new things. Maybe it’s a disease.
8. I don’t understand a lot of what has happened in 2016. But I accidentally wrote a book of pretty substantial essays. I don’t want to talk much more about it for fear that I will jinx it though.
9. Why do I want a smart watch? Why? I know I don’t need one. Next I’ll want a chip in my brain, or a flying car. Sigh …..
10. I had coffee too late in the day again. Also, I think my older notes were more intellectual. But I could be wrong about that.
11.There’s no rule saying that items must make sense or that I have to stop at ten.
12. I haven’t turned on chat in any of my apps in thousands of years. I don’t want people to get a hold of me. It seems like going voluntarily to the dentist.
13.You can’t stop at 13. It’s bad luck. I have a house ghost. There’s protocols to follow.
14. I’ve been sneezing a lot today. Maybe this is what my headache is. Or maybe it’s something more dastardly.
15. I still like capitalizing nouns sometimes, and there’s nothing anyone can do about my need to do this precious habit-Thing.

Blogathonarrly Things to Do

1. Deal with WordPressissuedammit
2. Stop sneaking out with candy
3. Wash clothes.
4. Clean ears.
5. ReRecord Everything
6. Throw away most of my Evernotes. Into the lava of mt. doom.
7. Drink.
8. Eat salad.
9. Go back on Internet. Keep tweeting into the vast silence that is the void of the blackness that is Social Media
10. Retag everything I wrote ever.
11. Create Charming Videos in which I bother to brush hair.
12. here is an orange. It’s not a Pumpkin but it tried, okay? 🙂


Frog and Toad make Lists

1. I like to make lists. I’ve been doing them since I was tiny, apparently.
2. Apparently also, my skills at plot development and dialogue haven’t improved any from my youth. Not sure how old I am here.
3. My teacher thinks I’m excellent.
4. Blogathon Saturday. I’m off my game this year because of Things and Stuff; but I’m going to hang back and Learn and keep motivated. Kinda like a wordSpy. We’ll get there. Right now I’m pushing the bike up the hill. But I’m still smiling. Because I’m brave.
5. I’m nobody’s lunch. 😉
6. This is what the Story says:

Frog and toad together Chapter 1 a list
One morn – ing toad made a list that said: wake up put on close eat Brekfast. That’s funny. I don’t have wilgle my ears toad said then he spit at his list.
chapter 2 I’m not afraid.
One day Frog Went to toad’s house. He said let’s go out to see if we are brave let’s go out. I don’t want to go out Frog said toad. Please let’s go siad Frog. Ok but_I don’t want to be scard. So on they went. But they saw an eagel and ran. Later they saw a scary cave And a snake came out. He said hello lunch! They ran home ————> They got in to bed. ——–> Frog said / We are brave ———> Toad said ——> You are / right



top secret bat guano

1. Greetings. I am sorry I do not ka-blog much anymore.
2. I do post things on the Networks of Social Importance. It is gratifying somewhat. But then my blog kicks sad sand along the pouty beach. Wah.
3. I have 6% battery on this phone.
4. I made it through 3 (in actuality, that’s 4) rounds of the Nur Ein song contest (which is linked on the side there) while all weird and depressed. I’m pretty stoked about this, because for the past four months I have had the mental clarity of bat guano. You can grow vegetables in it, but it does not produce symphonies, albums, or Great Novels.
5. I started going for walks and making routines and steadily working on Top Secret Projects that will Amaze and Delight. Really, they are not secret, they are more just hard to explain at the moment.

My battery power growls at me. I blame stupid Candy Crush and will tag tomorrow. Don’t judge.

Not now, blog. I have a headache.

I often say that I am all over the Internet like a bad rash. This is because I am kind of s’nasty. I like to write though, and get up to No Good.

Ironically, I am tired of blogging, social media, the Internet, controversy, Uniqueness, Modernity, Retrophilia, and … just EVERYTHINGAAaaaaaaAAAAAGHGHGH!!!

I have created, to put it mildly, a SILLY amount of content in the past couple of years. I’m not talking about Official Content of a Professional Capacity. No, I’ve mostly just been working my ass off for myself and You – here to amuse and delight. Up until Radicchio in the morning trying to survive on this Amusing little bit of fun y’all call a planet.

To think of organizing this content is dizzying. To think of subjecting you folks to lists of what I’m going to do about it is nauseating. To analyze the sunniness of my tone as I ponder the NON-effectiveness of whining about my goals AGAIN makes my brain feel like butt candy. I don’t know what butt candy is, but it doesn’t sound very nice. Already, this blog is so terribly FLARG. But I have established a bit of Flow here in the form of a couple paragraphs…And it’s not in a list. So Splickets to you!

Anyway, all I know is that there is a lot in my head, and that’s the way the cookie gathers moss, my goblin friends. I know that I need quiet, and that it’s time to cut the distractions. I know that you have never heard this newsflasky, dizzying information from me before; that I know YOU know that I know that it’s time to start saying no. no, no no; no no no. (I said a)No, no, no no. no; no- na-no. (like in a successful commercial). None of this has anything to do with the price of bronzed monkey poo (#relevance!) at a bustling border town; but this is how Great Novels are Written.

So, what do you do when your blog is just not that into your silly ass? What do you do when you don’t FEEL like it?

Before, I have always done stuff like publish photos of my feet and Unidentified Flying Ceiling Fans. Then amidst these cunning distractions, I will place my Deep and Personal thoughts – hoping they go both expressed and unnoticed. Hoping I can be both validated and largely ignored. Really crossing my fingers that somehow I shall increase in social popularity without the need to reveal a shred of personal or actual information about myself. I think I’m living in a dream and I know I don’t want to wake up.

I erase half the things I would say now, just because I fear they are constantly being observed. Either that, or I have a cerebral salt shaker filled with hearty disclaimers. mmmmmm, delicious.

Why am I feeling so Mosquitolesquey? So acerbic and raw? It’s probably because I have been having the same identity crisis all over your nice upholstery for the past few years. I keep apologizing for this, but I don’t know why I am apologizing for weird and awkward behavior to The World At Large. How much am I really fouling up the room compared to the Elephant in it, making its messes?

There’s so much stuff I’ve learned! I’m dangerous now! We’re not meant to do this, not meant to do that. Spelling, grammar, metaphors, length, color, line, definition. Think first. No, get out there and make content. I’m real confused.

I have lived in my head all my life. I have kept myself free from a lot of cultural influence. A lot of the things that fly out of my mouth came from my actual brain. I am far, far from encyclopedic. This is because when I was meant to be paying attention to the work of other people, I was narcissistically making my own.

I like myself better. I trust myself more. I can rely upon myself to be interested in Me. I know that when I am dead, I will not care who my audience is. Someone else will have to manage those things. I am my audience now, and I have to live with what I make. If I do not thrill and amuse myself, I have to look inside my own brain when I fall asleep at night. It is I who have to interact with the characters and people that populate my world. And only I will remember who and what I want (most likely). And if I don’t get what I want in my real life, I can when I am writing, or sleeping, or refusing to pay attention to what IS so much that I make what CAN BE.

Perhaps, art is a delusion. A happy delusion. My sweet escape.

It is folly, probably, to distance myself from my audience in this way. I have been doing this with my music. I know I do it. This is why I have my side projects where I try more to do what I’m told. Because with my own music I’m throwing myself at my tools and I might make choices for my own reasons and I am thinking about the character and the story and what I wanted to say. I’m trying to make a Thing live. I’m not in a state of mind where I care about You-the-Consumer. You’ve got a world full of ready-made stuff to look at. I’m probably not going to interest you.

This is going to get me about 8 fans. This is going to make me zilch money. I am lucky I am getting better at cleaning the house (this is a lie. I am horrible at this but my baking improves!). I need to rethink the whole “no ads” thing. I don’t know. I don’t want to pour a nice refreshing Pepsi on my soul either…..

I have a lot to think about. Sifting through my brain is going to be like an octopus trying to put on socks, I imagine. I have a lot of personal decisions to make…

But I’m getting there. Messily, scandalously, perhaps even… but gettin’ there nonetheless … 🙂

I really am not trying to grow up to be a curmudgeon… 🙂

Blogging at the Blogathon


1. So. I’m here at blogathonatx (blogathonatx.com). I can assure you, I did not literally Blog My Own Face Off. To provide you with too much information, as is my way – I have this weird Thing on my chin and I had to get my father, a Nice Physician, to meet me at his office and he tried to deal with it. So I was late.
2. Honestly, I don’t think providing this information to you is indicitave of Savvy Blogging. The truth is, I am not really a very savvy blogger. Nor do I have a clear cut mission in life. What I do have is a domain and a Vague Plan. At some point, I will get things together. This will happen some time over the rest of the month.
3. How is this different than the rest of the times I have said these Sorts of Things, you may ask? Well, this time, I have a little green feeling. A little green feeling is a little different from the other colors. It’s a center of the rainbow go. It’s proof of progress but an indicator that there’s a lot to do to make headway in the future. It’s light at the end of the tunnel but you can see the trees waving around outside a little more clearly in the sunlight.
4. Do you know what I am talking about? No, you probably don’t. We are at a party and you have excused yourself to get punch even though your glass is full. This is the type of blogathon that this is turning out to be for me. There’s a lot of stimuli in the room and it’s really tempting to write stream-of-consciousness like a confessional. This is something that I used to do WAAAY back in the OlDen Days.
5. Now that I have taken you into the dark, nonsensical tunnel that is my thought-process; you are probably going “huh?” Truthfully, I can’t explain why I am a LOT more disorganized than I have been before. All I can say is that I’m irked that I am further away from the goals I wanted to be closer to; and I have found myself unable to give myself credit for a lot of the milestones I’ve hit. I think I need to do that. Being a Surly Individual is not going to help me find jumper cables for the spaceship – or stop writing extrodinarily bad metaphors … or learn to spell…or looking at people walking by my table with inviting expressions rather than with @suspiciousden in my eyes like they have tried to sell my spleen to circus performers.
6. So, at my dad’s clinic, my father asked me if there had been stink bugs. “Why?” I asked him. Because they hover around your face and put their P R O B I S C U I T S (not how the word is spelled) in it. these are called kissing bugs. There’s more information, like a doctor with a weird name and stuff. I’m going to dinner with him on Tuesday and we’re going to talk about bacteria and vile parasites of the face over a nice meal and then I will know terminology and stuff. I said “can I put you in my blog!?” thinking *people really need to know about this stuff!* and it’s true. I bet if you are reading this, you really want to know about what a lurking stinkbug can do to your face. So let my mistakes be a lesson to YOU.
7. Actually, we just moved. So yet again, I think it’s just hormones. I’m going to the Dude-You-Don’t-Wanna-Hear-About-It-Doctor on Tuesday as well, so I-May-Say-Something-General-And-Seemly about my Well Being, if you like.

This is the worst blog in a while, y’all. Fitting, as I’m having lunch at Blogathon. Flarg.

Two for the price of One Plus a Dollar…

These are the kitties of Randall, “Couch Kitty” and “Window Kitty” .. also known as Alex and Max.
These are the photos we took before they left. It’s been weird. I didn’t want to blog about them, because I don’t know how they are – but I haven’t been blogging a lot and yesterday I went out and read some of my writing to some people and there was mirth and fun and enjoyment and I realize how much I edit and hold back and am careful and it does me no good because bad things continue to happen anyway regardless of what I do. So I may as well just continue on as I am, writing as I like and trying my hardest to be the best that I can be. What can one do about such things? We are moving, and it’s a billiondy million degrees, and and I have been a worrier of Epic Porpoises since I was a podling. Everything will work out fine. I continue to stare suspiciously at the piano and wish things would pack up themselves and magically sort-out-in-all-easy-ways.
1. Pianoteq problem again while trying to save some old data. Well, my pianos have been saved. This is very important because they are like my babies and represent times and places in my development and they remind me of people and places and conversations and stuff I was going through. Sometimes I would just make a piano to FEEL better.

2. I am going to have a graham crackers shaped like tiny rabbits. Because I can.
3. I’m out at my Tuesday night writers group again. I’m proud of this, because this is something that I I’ve been doing that is consistent and that is special and tasty. I don’t know if “tasty” applies here; but we’re going to go with it.
4. Have you ever reached an impasse with a friend? Well, I have reached an impasse with this particular friend so many times that the restaurant that we used to meet at when we were younger with firmer complexions has turned into a hipster space station and moved down the road. I’d go in there, but I am afraid that the smell of TIGI and pretention would choke every shred of energy I have regained from me. Yes, every precious SHRED of energy that I have refound and will clutch to my bosom before my doctor has figured out that I have ripped myself off cholesterol medicine and thrust its evil presence from my wrecked body.
5. I’m a tad drama today. Expect more typing.
6. I think I’m slowly finding my fan base. I’ve been hunting them down. I have, of course, been saying this for years of beers, and the 6-8 people who have OPT-ed-ed-IN are tired of my megalomaniacal claims I am sure. They are people like me. But the regular channels of the Getting of the Attention … it doesn’t WORK that way. I can’t be all MERCHY with these people. I can’t jump up and down with pom-poms and clever hooks and drag them out to gigs and send them to my bandcamp.
7. My husband, who apparently although he has a job cannot be bothered to actually code or anything (#pokeymirthlystuff) has figured out that Vinny the Geriatric Kitteh is between 84 and 90ish years of age in human years. Before we dragged him back inside, he was having a vigorous, non-consensual “dating” life with Domina – who I am assuming is between 50 and 60. I am thinking that perhaps a crotchety (yes, I am aware that I have enjoyed typing that word before) .. old man cat could have been rather useful last night as Get-the-Hell-Off-My-Porching those Raccoons last night. More likely he would have just sat there allowing the powers that flea to take his love and take his land. Animals are jerks.
8. Anyway, about my fanz-with-a-Lolcat-inspired-“z” … they are people of the night. Unless they aren’t; and they feel more jaunty during the afternoon or for breakfast or elevenzees. Sometimes they are practical people who like to make crafty items with funny ears. Sometimes they aren’t weird for the sake of being weird. Actually, they never are. They’re just themselves. They just move around, heads cocked to the sides- funny half smiles at the ready. They don’t have the squinky look on their face that I imagine the majority of people make when they are reading my blog. Or perhaps I am giving myself too much credit and I think it is terribly Roman Tick to imagine myself velvet caped in my dungeon of delights playing my creepy basement organ.
9. that is not what she said.
10. I’ve missed blogging. I promise I will not get all creepy.
11. We are inDEED moving to a new location and it does not have a creepy basement for a creepy organ. There are probably about 3-4 basements in the whole city of Austin because of all the limestone. It’s really too bad because I bet it would be nice and cool and cavey down there.
12. OOOOO! I forgot all about CAVES!
12.5 -> I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve lacked confidence. I’ve need LOTS of reassurance. I USED to be like that, but I trained out of it. I think that this is because I got sick, and being sick is scary and hurty and vulnerable.

Well, no more! When you realize that you are in the bottom of a dank, dank, stinky hole then you have to look up and see the gleaming taco stand at the top and crawl back out. I have stuff to do. I’m not even going to link it. I’m not even going to BLOG RESPONSIBLY. You’ll all just have to wait because

A. I have either TWO or THREE songs to write. I’m hedging about the third because I am not sure if it is needed, wanted, or necessary. It’s become almost a philisophical connundrum at this point.

B. I SHOULD start with the song that I know I have, but for some reason doing the most difficult thing is what I crave, because if I can do it; that means that I have my stuff under control
C. There is not any more. For that is all.


ps. sorry for mistigacakes. We have to go someplace and I don’t have the time to spell-chalk this up properliciously.