(no subject)

Good music is like voodoo; a song will, should, get inside you, ride you, make demands, and not let go of you until it's through, finished, done with you, leaving you tired, stretched and exhilirated.


There's something inside me that's straining against it's chains, and it's getting bigger, stronger. Music only encourages this; it's the steroid and maybe the key to the chains, to the cell, to the prison, too. More, and louder ;)

my love for Echidne of the Snakes remains pure...

(doing my part to spread goddess awareness; I don't worship, per se, but I'll proselytize like crazy)

News from the Olympus


I visited my divine pals on the old home mountain. I partied a little, went to a cocktail bash held by some naiads (they had a wet bar) and met a few interesting monsters. After all that I have decided to go on a diet: no more than one wingnut is going to be devoured per week. By me. It's my New Year's Promise.

read the rest

(no subject)

I love the rain, particularly when I can get out in it. Walking to and from lunch becomes even more of a private, special act. It's just me and the environment; all the water soluble people are packed away in cars, running from them to their destinations. I had a huge smile on my face the whole time.

The strip of woods is always more still and warmer than the area around it (at least when it's cool; when it's hot, it's cooler there). The ephemeral streams explode with enthusiasm, happily rushing and gurgling towards the creek at the heart of the woods. I watched the water back up and eventually spill over the top of a living dam, a tree that fell across a bend, but is still alive and partially rooted, and was just amazed. It's not a private affair, my walking in the woods in the rain, but there are definitely no other people present. I thought about it being warmer, and then wondered how I'd be able to explain being soaked to the skin from playing in the rain. When I got back to the office, I realized I was drenched from the knees down :)