this is not my beautiful house

Played some rage-tennis last night

Played some rage-tennis last night

The wall didn’t stand a chance

Got rid of some of my damaged bits I think, you know, a few hurt feelings and dark furls from the pit of my stomach, some regret I suppose, stupid work issues that are small but gnarly, a plot-fucking storyline, and some unclaimed angst-in-general – the accumulated shit that comes from trying to make yourself fit the world.

Because I don’t know about you but it’s not as easy as it used to be

But it’s morning and it’s the first of April and I just saw three deer across the street which I was going to wake people up about but everybody would just groan and roll over or throw shoes because they’re used to my stupid April Fools’ Day pranks which used to involve “there’s a foot of snow out there!” or “I made you pancakes for breakfast!” which I know is especially cruel, but there always was a stack of pancakes hidden in the oven and they’d be all happy and relieved until I swooped in for a second blow which went something like “Sorry, there’s no maple syrup, but here’s some yogourt. With pineapple! Try it!”

Gak

They’re too old now, I guess, too wizened to fall for the old tricks and although I’d like to change the orientation of the fridge or add a stair someplace or paint Daisy or get a bird, I’ll probably do nothing so extravagant although I do have some leftover paint (like nearly two fucking gallons because my kitchen does not actually have three hundred fucking cupboards).

I don’t think there’s enough time to lego a secret door somewhere and they probably wouldn’t notice if I tattooed the fish and saying we’re all out of toilet paper isn’t stretching the truth enough

I guess I could mind-fuck them into believing the coffee I just watched them drink has a secret ingredient that causes rapid evolution, or hide their keys.

Or I could tell them about their superpowers

You know, in a casual way, I might mention something I sort of forgot about until now which is that they can use their own private superpowers to make the world fit around them rather than trying to make themselves fit the world.

Now I’m gonna go paint Daisy and teach the cat to fart

daisy-for-inside.jpg



You know what happens when you say you don’t believe in Fairies, right?

You know what happens when you say you don’t believe in Fairies, right?

Blog titles I came up with when I couldn’t come up with blog titles

Blog titles I came up with when I couldn’t come up with blog titles