Inky: Muse Cat has disappeared.
I at first believed one of the construction workers had let her out on their many, many ins and out of the house. But she would not have wandered off, after all she has been my constant companion for almost 12 years. I have checked under the house, all around the yard, checked the couches, the easy chairs, the recliner, all the closets and cabinets, and drove the neighborhood calling her – she always came to my call – but no Muse Cat.
The house is so empty. I am hoping she comes home but my Mom tells me that she’s too old for such a journey. Doesn’t matter, I’m still going to wait.
Toon: Cartoon Stock
Inky: It’s pouring down outside. There should be a law that when it’s like this, everyone must stay home and watch scary movies, sleep, or otherwise laze their day away. What do you think?
Inky: two bottles of wine, and I’m still not over my hero’s actions. Sheesh the man’s gonna kill me, never mind what he’s doing to his girl. Okay, I’ve got to get in the shower…
Image: found at pinterest
‘What are they?’ he asked.
‘Those are moments,’ I said.
‘What are they made of?’ he asked.
They are times, I thought, when you win a race or win a heart…
‘What are they made of?’ he asked again.
‘They are made up of times when we are fully present.’
I picked up one of the specks with the tip of my finger.
‘Do you remember this?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I was whistling in the kitchen that morning.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because of the knowledge that I was loved.
Bits of a Moment: Kamand Kojouri
Image: meriamber tumbler
Inky: I dreamed last night. I relived a moment of time when I was utterly betrayed. My heart was ripped from my chest, and I dreamed I could no longer breath. I woke this morning, muscles sore, my heart hurting, tears streaming from my eyes. I haven’t thought of that person in many years. Thought it was long forgotten. Yet he invaded my dreams last night. Maybe to keep the betrayal fresh, that would be like him. Or maybe it was because my hero betrayed love, 11:30 last night, in my manuscript.
Experiences are riches to writers. But sometimes, they are a road trip to hell that never goes away. I’m taking the day off.
Little islands are all large prisons; one cannot look at the sea without wishing for the wings of a swallow.
The one with a wish: Richard Francis Burton
Image: found on pinterest
Doing? a bit of research, headphones on Tennessee Whiskey sung by Chris Stapleton crooning in my ears –
You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
You’re as sweet as strawberry wine
You’re as warm as a glass of brandy
And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time..
…ever heard of Hy Brasil? Interesting little place…
There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.
Enthraller: Diane Setterfield
Image: Dragon by Leontine Greenberg
Doing: Yesterday there was no drama. Coffee was pretty good, no bells ringing, alarms going off, fires needing to be put out, all in all it was a good day. Until, after work when this cute dude – in the store I stopped at – decided he’d have a go. Try being professional, polite, and considerate when someone just won’t take ‘no’ for an answer and wants to carry my bag of Glenlivet to the car. As, if…