blogging 1

may just be a generational waste bucket. but i have found something else worth my time! across the road— her name is joliene. she spells it differently because she just had the time. 

her birth day was funny, we kind of strolled about the shops with her in a carriage carrying a plastic purple tiara in her stubby newborn hand. we were on the edge of the weekend, preparing for christmas in anchorage. 

and we don’t breed dogs so that they make sense to us, we breed ‘em so that they make sense to each other! now you really need to turn off the wax warmer.     —stuffy in here. 

ok i did that, now what?

ok, we can walk until ten o’clock, pick sunberries in that thick shine over the neighbor’s lawn.

when the dock shuts down, let’s jump in kickin’ and screamin’. let’s not come up for air.

this is a poetic journal about what goes on. what there could be and what there is. more than half of it will not make sense and you can’t really get famous for making a blog like you used to be able to.

not that i ever want to be famous it is just that i was thinking ‘what if…’

this is a live journal but not on livejournal, it’s a how-i-live journal it’s a live journal, see?

okay i’ll fess! i just really love the vampire diaries :) 

that seems to be it,

—- seems to be all. 

take care of yourself, wherever you are.