Again, I have been lax. Again, I beg your forgiveness. You, that imaginary, ever-demanding readership. So needy.
I ran the Dirty Dash. It was lovely.
I work at the Parlor. We listen to good music and make good food. Please come visit me.
I have an essay to write: Revulsion. But when oh when?
I'm keeping my head above the water, but just barely. Just. Barely.
I have to write a poem, but I'd rather use one of my old ones. I don't feel particularly poetic. Or, maybe, I don't want to feel particularly poetic. Because who am I anyway? Who am I to put words where they belong? Who am I to arrange them to sing when all they want to do is cry, cry, cry.
I still love baking, though I have little time.
Halloween? Hah. I haven't a costume.
I want to paint and sing and dance and love and hike and live, oh how I want to live.
Take comfort, readers. I'll be back to myself before long. And then some real posts, not just this inane drivel.
While you're waiting for me to get back, though, listen to this: