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Thursday, January 19th, 2006
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4:59 pm - RIP Argpeggio, 1997?-January 12, 2006
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( More pictures and tears behind the cut. )
"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."--Mahatma Gandhi (Oct. 2, 1869 - 1948)
"The Divine Mother revealed to me in the Kali temple that it was She who had become everything...That was why I fed a cat with the food that was to be offered to the Divine Mother. I clearly perceived that the Divine Mother Herself had become everything--even the cat."--from The Gospel of Ramakrishna (my cats' favorite scripture, besides the Talmudic commandment to always feed your beasts first)
"Aren't five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God's sight."--Luke 12:6
I haven't been in touch lately because I've been busy not forgetting too. In her memory I'm giving to:
Humane Society of Williamson County, where we adopted her
10930 Crystal Falls Parkway
Leander, TX 78641
Shadow Cats, the rescue organization near the vet that cared for her
2111 Sam Bass Rd.
Suite 2000-B
Round Rock, TX 78681
Noah's Wish, who've been rescuing pets in Louisiana, my home state
P.O. Box 997
Placerville, CA 95667
current mood:  mournful
current music: Song for Athene, John Taverner
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| Tuesday, January 10th, 2006
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7:00 pm - Teenage cat seeks lap, for sitting in, as part of loving home.
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Remember me? Sushi, the incredibly cute kitten who got adopted first?
The picture above is me back then.
Here's another picture of me now. I’m a Japanese Bobtail. Mostly. See my short tail? And my one blue eye?
Things didn't work out too good. When I was a baby, someone was really, really mean to my mom, me, and my 7 brothers and sisters. A nice lady rescued me, and a nice family let me grow up in their house until I was adopted. I was so happy to have my own person and my own house! But then he didn’t want me any more, and he took me to the pound to be killed. I was so sad. Why didn’t he love me any more?
But the night before I was supposed to die, the nice lady saw my picture on the website, and she and the nice family rescued me again the very next day. And now I’d like another home please. But only if you can love me forever. I’ve had enough excitement.
I am one year old. I’m spayed and vaccinated. I’m an indoor cat with claws. (But I really like the screened porch!) I’m very quiet, and I get along with other animals. As long as they know who’s boss. We can discuss that.
To find out about adopting me, please write to Rosel from this website or call her at 512.680.7116. Now, please?
current mood:  hopeful
current music: Home Sweet Home
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| Saturday, October 15th, 2005
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5:31 pm - My First Meme
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Plaidder asks boldly:
1. What is the most demeaning thing you would be willing to do to get a book contract?
Let's assume I've already done it, okay? Because I really don't want to sink any lower. I signed up for a critique session where people hated me* for no other purpose than to schmooze with Ms. Big Famous Writer, whom I did not know, and to ask her to read and blurb my book because the prospective publisher wanted Big Name Puff Quotes BEFORE it decided to offer a contract.
* Maybe you'll think this is my normal paranoid delusion, and you may be right. I base the statement on the self-proclaimed leader's previous "critique" of "I despise your writing."
So I went. I was going to take my horror story about a guy who cuts off his best friend (yeah, that does mean what you think it means), which I thought was too much for the audience, and instead took a menopausal horror story. I wish I'd taken the first one. Except that Ms. Big Famous Writer did agree to read and possibly blurb, but then she never responded to emails. Several Big Famous Writers would like me to have the contract in hand before they go through the agony of reading my book, which is reasonable.
2. Will Texas ever recover from the Bushes?
Sigh. Of greater interest to me: Will I ever recover from the Bushes?
3. Is there a God (or gods, or other divine beings) running the universe, and if so, what in the world is/are he/she/it/they thinking?
There is definitely one or more divine being(s). S/t/he/y may be running the universe, though s/t/he/y're more of an artist than an administrator, but this world was our gift and responbility. Unlike other mystics, I do not claim to know exactly what said being/community is thinking. My best guess is that s/t/he/y are kicking back with the heavenly equivalent of a tall one and giving the same gripe as in the 2nd chapter of the Koran, which is (roughly translated):
I told you, and I told you, and I told you. How many more prophets you want? You just kill them anyway. How many more angels? You don't listen.
By now, 1500 or so years later, s/t/he/y are yelling, "You want to spent the rest of your lives in spiritual third grade?" Or maybe s/t/he/y are ready to give up and put us in divine special ed and be glad if we ever learn to tie our spiritual shoelaces--or just give us the heavenly equivalent of velcro.
Thus saith the lard.
Now plaidder and friends get to guess if I'm bright, dark, or a variegated plaid, according to WOF terms. What's WOF? Go read. You'll be glad you did.
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| Sunday, October 2nd, 2005
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7:24 pm - Katrina HEROES--steal this meme
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What would you call a twenty-year-old who saved his entire family first by repeatedly diving in a flood of sewage to pull each one out and then by flagging down and paying a boatman to carry them to safety?
What would you call an elderly man who stayed awake night after night to protect his family--children, wife, and mother--while they slept in dangerous quarters?
What about a young single woman--or man--taking on the responsibility of raising three or four small nieces, nephews, or cousins because their parents were lost?
Or the woman caring both for teenagers and a confused mother while her older children served as police in New Orleans and soldiers in Iraq?
I'd call them heroes, them and the more than thirty other survivors of Hurricane Katrina whom I've met during my last month as a volunteer relief worker. Over and over their stories of bravery, resiliency, and determination humbled me. These are the kind of people who have made this country great. I don't know that I would respond as they have. I hope I never have to.
Real quotes from real people:
From a "sandwiched" single mother, caring for both parents and children: "We've started over with nothing before. We can do it again."
From a young woman who'd just received an aid debit card, the only money she had in the world: "Could I use this to help my sister pay her bills? She took us in, you know."
From a young mother to her daughter: "Just take one book, honey. Lots of children need new books."
From a shelter resident: "People are so nice here, it's scary."
From a south Louisiana policeman: "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for everything you're doing." I grabbed his hand and said, "Thank you for everything you've done," but he didn't hear me. He just kept muttering. I'll never forget his eyes, still staring at horrible things. The same things that the former night guards still see in their nightmares.
Families clung together, inching their way across the states a few gallons of gas at a time, saving the elderly, the infirm, the pets. Those who stayed--almost half of who were physically unable to leave or caring for someone who was--believed they'd been abandoned by the government and the rest of the country. Still, they struggled through the waters. Many of these families were fractured apart, often by rescue efforts. They soldier on in a grim quest for reunion.
Maybe there are others who were greedy, lazy, and ungrateful, but I haven't met them in my month's tenure.
Soon after 9/11, all associated with the tragedy were called "heroes." I haven't heard the term used once for Katrina survivors, and it's about time. So forget the "refugee," "evacuee," and all the other terms. It's Katrina heroes.
UPDATE: The Real Kato Online donates some of that good old-fashioned money, which helps, when you link to his/her site. And because I spend my days donating to people relief (and because the Biblical "Silver and gold have I none..." applies to me), I will donate $1 to animal relief for every comment here. Come on, break the bank!
current mood: hopeful
current music: Judas Maccabeus ("See the Conquering Heroes Come")
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| Thursday, April 14th, 2005
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3:10 pm - ADOPTED!
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Sunshine has been adopted, Fe-Leuk ambiguous and all!
I was too depressed to report the outcome of his 3rd test, which was faintly positive again. The vet said we had to treat him like a definite Fe-Leuk positive cat.
But he's gone to live on a farm with the in-laws of a friend at work. I'd always pictured him as the beloved companion of an elderly lady, and that's what he is. They sent pictures of him lying in a Barcalounger with the remote by his paw and luxuriating on his new bed that he consents to share with his new people. He loves having run of the whole house and following the folks everywhere they go. Thanks, RK, for taking him!
May he and they live long and prosper!
current mood: ecstatic
current music: Home Sweet Home
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| Friday, January 21st, 2005
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9:48 am - News Flash: NO LEUKEMIA!
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The big bright-orange Sunshine cat does not have leukemia! He is now a perfect housecat for anybody! He's such a loving cat. His fave is to be hugged close, in your lap or with his paws around your neck, while he purrs up a storm, but if you can't spend all day doing that, he's perfectly happy to sit next to you while you work. You need this cat! Call/write the folks in the next post today!
current mood: jubilant
current music: Celebrate!
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| Tuesday, December 21st, 2004
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2:12 pm - Would You Take Care of Me?
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| Thursday, June 24th, 2004
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11:40 pm - Banzai/Bonsai
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One more kitten: Banzai, the little boy cat. Have you ever seen the greeting card with the photo of a kitten looking in the mirror, but what's staring out of the mirror is a lion? That's Banzai. In an effort to calm his macho fierceness--pretty funny for something that weighs slightly over a pound--we've altered his name to the more serene "Bonsai," but so far it hasn't taken effect.
My son gave me a Bonsai tree for Christmas once. My cat shredded it.
This Bonsai has spent two weeks tussling with his sisters, and yesterday he decided he was ready to take on the big cats. Here Jedi Cat Master Koto shows him the finer points of martial arts. Koto weighs about 7 pounds. Champagne, not shown, weighs 17. Bonsai takes them all, helped by their innate manners, sportsmanship, or sheer boredom. When they walk away, he thumps his little stump of a tail with glee. He won! They ran away!
( Want to see more? Just click. )
Contact Al's Hyde Park Rescue to see more of Bonsai.
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| Tuesday, June 22nd, 2004
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9:51 am - Murasaki
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The house seems empty with only six cats in it, but it's time for the other kittens to find their homes. I hope they can go together, or at least to homes with other playful animals. Though Bonsai slept most often with Sushi, Murasaki was most often his sparring partner. Still is, though now he's trying to take on the big cats.
Murasaki takes her name from the 10th century Japanese court writer, Murasaki Shikibu (or possibly the heroine of her novel Genji, also called Murasaki). When I was bringing the cats home from Al's Hyde Park Rescue (who you should contact to adopt), there was a great deal of commotion in the cat carrier. When I looked in it, Bonsai and Sushi were hanging on the door, and Bonsai was howling nonstop. (He's the spokescat.) Murasaki was sitting in the back, straight and tall, with her tail wrapped around her legs. Such a dainty lady deserved an equally elegant name.
It must be confessed that Murasaki has a birth defect, as far as Japanese Bobtails are concerned: she has, as has been mentioned, a tail. A long skinny tail--you can see it the trio pictures in the previous entry. So long that she not only chases it but catches it. There's nothing much funnier than Murasaki on her back, tail between her legs, the tip in her mouth, a comic version of the snake swallowing itself. The very tip has a few gray hairs, the only color on her besides the tabby-gray heart on her head. Her nose is perfectly pink, unlike the other two, and both eyes are blue. She's tiny and thin, as befits her heritage.
She's not as alpha-driven as her brother--though she gives him a run for his money in a scrap--so she gets along with the bigger cats well. I don't have many pictures of her because she doesn't stay still very long, though I'd wish I'd been able to take one the day she jumped on the table to attack my pizza. But, like with most of her adorable exploits, I'm too busy trying to stop them. Nevertheless, she seems the most fond of cuddling close and has aspirations of sleeping on my bed, though the bigger cats already there are not pleased. Failing the bed, she'll be glad to keep you company at the table. She likes pizza, ice cream, and cheese, though, like me, she should limit her intake of these things.
Check out those Bette Davis eyes:
( Want to see more? Just click. )
Operators are standing by at Al's Hyde Park Rescue.
current mood:  pensive
current music: Sakura
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| Sunday, June 20th, 2004
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9:01 pm - TWO LITTLE KITTENS! TWO!
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Sushi found herself a home today! A young man named Travis was inspired to become a cat owner after catsitting for his sister, and he liked Sushi's sweet, gentle spirit...which may have partly stemmed from being exhausted after going to the church picnic, but she is the quietest and calmest of the three. In Bobtail terms, this is not saying a whole lot, but I think he will like her. I don't think it's possible not to like her. She just started purring a few days ago, and it was so exciting to have her run up to me and start her little engine.
So after the screening and instructions on keeping her indoors, not declawing, spaying, shots, and the cat-back guarantee,* we said good-bye to Sushi and brought the other two back home. And like a mom, I'm wondering, "Will she miss the other cats?" "Will she like being an only cat?" "If they introduce her to a new cat/dog, do they know to put them in separate rooms for a few days and don't leave them alone together for another week or so until it's clear no one's going to kill anyone?" "Do they know about rubbing citrus oil on things they don't want her to chew?" "Will they get her a scratching post?" "Will they be patient with kittenish destruction? She was awfully good at shredding toilet paper." "Will they love her forever and ever and ever?" I think so. She's got a great new home. But I miss her already, despite the six other cats.
In celebration of Sushi, I'm going to try to post her pictures. This may not work; I haven't tried it on LJ before. She is my current default icon, though.
*Both Elizabeth and I are willing to take the cat back if it doesn't Work Out or if circumstances change, like moving to an apartment that doesn't allow pets or acquiring a family member with allergies. Unlike a lot of rescue organizations, Elizabeth will refund the adoption fee. How no-risk can you get?
Sushi, Bonsai, and Murasaki
The only pictures we have of all three...they didn't stay still long enough. Sushi's the top cat in the first pic; I'm not sure about the second.
The Yin and the Yang
Sushi sleeping with her brother Bonsai/Banzai
Ready for her Closeup
Life's Essentials
Sushi with everything she needs--food, water, toys, a soft place to sleep--except love. (And vet care, however infrequently her blooming health requires it.)
Wake Up, Little Sushi
Day in the Life of
and a posterized art version of an out-of-focus shot:
current mood: thankful
current music: Memories (from "Cats")
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| Saturday, June 19th, 2004
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9:49 pm - THREE LITTLE KITTENS
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Until further notice, this journal has been taken over by three Japanese bobtail kittens that need a home. They are being fostered from an Austin rescue shelter by Rosel and her older Japanese Bobtail, Koto Wan Kenobi, Jedi Cat Master. For a week, Koto has been denying his obvious duty, saying things like, "They are too old. Yes. Too old to begin the training." But he's grudgingly come to allow that even at the ripe old age of eight weeks, they can still learn. Koto has raised two other litters of kittens to the epitome of cathood.
Japanese Bobtails are a recent breed, if you can really call them that. In Japan they're just alley cats. If you've ever seen the Japanese Good Luck Cat statue, the Maneke Neko, that's a Japanese Bobtail. The calico kind are considered the most lucky. Bobtails are small, and their fur feels like a rabbit's. This may be why they tend to be one of the hypo-allergenic breeds. They have powerful, rabbitty hind legs, the better to jump to the top of the door with. These three are white with a dark gray heart pattern on the top of the head.
As soon as I master LJ's image-posting system I'll put up bigger shots than those in my icons.
current mood: excited
current music: Three Little Kittens
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9:27 pm - Like the Boll Weevil, we're "justa lookin for a home"
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Japanese Bobtails are affectionate, curious, playful and lively all their lives, not just when they're kittens. Because they really like company, I've always had another pet friend for them. (Don't have another pet friend? Take two kittens! Or why not three?) Even if a human is home all day, humans don't usually want to play as much as a Bobtail will.
The boy, Bonsai/Banzai (his name isn't perfectly settled yet), is the largest, but usually male Bobtails do not get bigger than 7 pounds. He has delusions of alpha: when my older cats hiss at him, he hisses back, which may not be survival behavior when confronting a Siamese that weighs 17 pounds more than he does, but so far my cats have been patient. Bonsai/Banzai is the spokescat for the litter. When he doesn't like something, he tells you about it until you fix it. He has one blue eye and one yellow eye, and his tail is about 2 inches long. When excited, he fluffs it out until it looks like a poodle's tail.
Sushi (the girl called Tabitha on the shelter website) is obviously his twin. The only differences, besides the sexual plumbing, are that her odd eyes are mirror images of his and that she has one black spot on a pink nose, whereas his nose is black. She is the smallest and quietest of the three. She shows some respect for her elders.
Murasaki is a dainty lady, slightly bigger than Sushi. Bobtail females usually don't grow larger than 5 pounds. She has two blue eyes and a totally pink nose. She seems to be assistant spokescat, occasionally echoing Bonsai/Banzai in a thin soprano voice. She may be the cuddliest, though they all like a good lap. But Murasaki has, unlike her siblings has a...tail! A long tail with a gray spot on the end. She not only can catch it; she can hold it in her mouth and roll around the floor with it.
Any one (or two! or three!) would make a fun, loving and fun-loving pet. If you're in the Austin, TX, area, contact Rosel at this journal or Elizabeth at Al's Hyde Park Rescue for information.
current mood: hopeful
current music: Score from "Cats"
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| Tuesday, February 24th, 2004
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12:14 pm - An Even Better Idea
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"Today a coworker of mine had a thought to send flowers to a random couple waiting in line at SF city hall.
He called a florist and they agreed to do it. He told them to deliver to any couple -- it didn't matter who -- standing in line to get married, with his blessing."
Since Thursday this movement has swelled. The original flower shop is a bit overwhelmed, but there is an update listing more shops. Bouquet prices seem to range from $20-$50--and up, of course. There are websites listed for those needing to make smaller donations. This link provides more florists. Other people, like musicians, are providing other wedding-related services.
Whether or not you agree with the idea of same-sex marriages, you can't deny that people have come up with a peaceful, loving way to demonstrate their support. The challenge, for those who don't agree, would be coming up with an equally peaceful, loving way to communicate their disapproval.
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| Thursday, October 30th, 2003
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9:27 am - A Seriously Good Idea
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Book Crossings has a great idea for Halloween: giving books to the treaters. As soon as I finish this, I'm off to the library sale and Half-Price Books to stock up.
I like the Book Crossings concept: leaving your books around for someone else to pick up. Coffeeshops are popular places. Of course, it has to be a book you're willing to part with, which is why my book shelves haven't noticeably cleared off. I've been known to buy up remaindered books by my favorite authors to leave about as an evangelical activity. I've wondered too, not very seriously, about leaving my own manuscripts about, to get a little grass-roots following.
And I'm not much fond of Halloween. I grew up when the first Halloween child poisonings were being flapped about, and so this wonderful dress-up, treat-receiving day was frought with real fear, which intensified when I had my own child.
But I'm over all that. (Well, my kid grew up.) There's still the issue, though, of feeding the overeating, oversweeting disease that makes obesity and diabetes such epidemics. So this book thing, if I can bring it off economically, appeals to me. I imagine I'll be viewed with the same bewildered horror as were the Coneheads, who passed out six-packs and fried eggs, but at least books (of suitable age level) are legal.
And, yeah, I'll pitch in pack of candy corn too.
current mood: jubilant
current music: Brahms, String Quintet #2
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| Wednesday, October 22nd, 2003
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3:19 pm - HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
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Today is my birthday. Woot. Woot. First the cat woke me up long before I planned. Then another cat barfed in three places in the living room, right in the the traffic pattern, where I trod on each one. Then a client's files blew up at the printer. (ALL THEIR FAULT! ALL THEIR FAULT!) But guess who gets to fix it, which further delays the other two projects I'm working on. I did have a lovely lunch at Austin's organic cafe, the so-divine Kerbey Lane, complete with the Ceremonial Mocha Tofu Cheezecake. And I keep reminding myself that I celebrated to the point of redundancy in Dallas this weekend, so I really can't pout too much about having my nose delicately poised on the grindstone. And time is, after all, money. Later I'll go buy myself the Dixie Chicks' most recent CD, first hand. (Hmmm. I don't think that's the opposite of second hand.) I'm breaking SOP here because they've been put upon by the Man, and I completely agree with their statement about Presidents and Texas. So the second half-century looks to be just as exciting as the first. This may be why people die young. Yee, not to mention, Ha, y'all.
current mood: chipper
current music: Rheinberger, Suite for Violin, Cello, Organ
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| Tuesday, October 7th, 2003
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6:08 am - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAMES!
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Hope all is going your way. Let's cut to the chase: hope you got your present.
Love,
Mom
current mood: happy
current music: Happy Birthday to You
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| Friday, October 3rd, 2003
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7:54 pm - Confession
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I'm sitting here posting to journals and blogs when I could be writing. I'm reworking my whole process. All my life I've been able to browbeat myself into meeting deadlines, goals, and expectations. Discipline? Mistress Matiss has nothing on me, except that she probably has more fun.
I haven't had much fun, making myself do things I started in the first place because I loved them. I remember a music teacher I worshipped speaking at a children's music workshop. The topic for the panel was How to Get the @#$#%#$!!! brat to practice. She said, "I practice when I feel like it." My mouth stayed open long enough for the highway dept. to start filling it. If I only did things when I felt like it, would I ever get anything done? Would I develop any skills? I've had 3 serious bouts with Repetitive stress injuries/fibromyalgia/my arms hurt like hell, 2 from music, 1 from writing. Obviously putting in the hours isn't the only factor.
My last story, the Van Helsing submission, was fun. As much fun as horror can be to someone who's never written it. But I never panicked about the deadline, enjoyed the research, just let the words flow, and sent it out being satisfied with the process instead of drama over what the editor might think.
So maybe I'm getting a handle on the first draft stuff. But rewriting, the task before me now (by choice, sweetie), still terrifies me. Perfectionism? Too many scathing critiques? The way I used to do rewrites was to sit down with critiques and change everything they said to change. That obviated any responsibility on my part; I'm just doing what I was told. But (don't tell) critics are not always right. And my slavish behavior didn't sell stories.
So here's a declaration and commitment to rework the rewrite process until I cease to view it with the same horror as being a missionary to India. Not that that's not fine for saints. I just don't happen to be one.
Happy words, y'all.
current mood: uncomfortable
current music: Ponchielli, Dance of the Hours
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7:51 pm - Meme
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Not sure how memes work here, but I've seen other people posting about them. Mine is inspired by The Ethics of Memory, by A. Margalit. He briefly mentions the flashbulb phenomenon, a significant event where we remember every mundane detail of what we were doing when we heard. He noted that different cultures remember different things, for instance, African Americans of a certain age are more likely to remember the assassination of Martin Luther King than that of John Kennedy. Age affects this memory also. It struck me particularly because the net has been playing "What were you doing on 9/11/01?"
So what community events do you remember in sharp, vivid tedious detail? Mine are:
1. Assassination of JFK (age 11) (Presidents can get murdered? My battle ax teacher cried; my mother was glad but offended that the mourners didn't wear hats in church)
2. Assassinations of MLK, Bobby K (age 13--sorry, these run together, but they were just a few months apart) (Deep sorrow. What a racist my mother is! Very, very sad about this and the wedge it drives between us.)
3. Chappaquiddick (This can't be happening. He can't have done this. Mom and Dad are cynical. Does anybody care about Mary Jo and her family?)
4. Kent State (age 17) (I knew somebody was going to get hurt!)
All the previous involved watching television.
5. Election of Ronald Reagan (Getting drunk with my best friend. We're all going to die! He's going to push the button!)
6. Challenger explosion (TV again, while I write out music for my afternoon classes. I don't think the shuttle's supposed to glow like that. Oh NO!)
7. 9/11/03 (Working at home. Calls from husband and friend. It has to be an accident. Going out to lunch, listening to news on the radio...not an accident...governor broadcasts from the emergency bunker to tell us everything's fine; go about your business...yeah? Then why are you in the bunker? Spiraling fear.)
8. Columbia explosion (husband crying...I go through family members to figure out who died...looking over his shoulder to read the web report...not AGAIN!)
Here's my entry in the book meme, where you change someone else's list to look like your bookshelves. Original (from frightened, I think):
Neil Gaiman
Edward Gorey
Terry Pratchett
Lewis Carrol
Roald Dahl
Alice Walker
Jasper Fforde
plaidder
Christopher Brookmyre
Isabel Miller
Mine:
Neil Gaiman
Karen Joy Fowler
Terry Pratchett
Lewis Carrol
Jane Austen
Madeleine L'Engle
Jasper Fforde
plaidder
Dorothy Sayers
Nalo Hopkinson
current mood: thoughtful
current music: Haydn, Lark Quartet
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| Thursday, September 25th, 2003
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9:22 am - Books
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Thank you, harmonyfb, for introducing me to dry-witty mystery author Sarah Cauldwell. I've just finished Sybil in Her Grave and am still chuckling. Faves: One chapter ends with words to the effect that Griselda, as predicted, had a terrible accident involving one of her cats. The next chapter opens with the narrator's humane assurance that she wants to immediately relieve our concern by letting us know that the cat is fine and continues in good health to this day--cleverly upping the tension on WHAT HAPPENED TO GRISELDA?
In another screamer, a French dominatrix crosses the line between customer service and torture/abuse when an English client insults her: he uses "tu" rather than "vous" in an assumption of uncalled-for intimacy, she feels. Maybe you have to be a French major or minor to appreciate that one, but whole book is filled with ridiculous contrasts and has the group-comedy feel reminiscent of PD Wodehouse. Thanks again, harmony.
Also in my pile of mysteries this week (and highly recommended) is Barbara Hambly's Free Man of Color, about a black musician and doctor in 1835 New Orleans.
current mood:  giggly
current music: Bach Orchestra Suite No. 1
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| Wednesday, September 24th, 2003
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7:21 pm - The Flowers That Bloom...
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It's fall. Fall in Texas, so soon! That scorch that freedom-fries your skin has gone away, leaving the slight kiss of chill in the morning and a pleasant temperature suitable for walking and most other outdoor activity. No turning leaves. The trees all died in the summer, after all. But in the breeze fields of yellow flowers wave...
Yellow flowers...
Invading my sinuses, performing unmentionable acts in my brain, lowering my IQ down to Reading Group C, setting off the drums in my skull, crossing my eyes...
No incisive, intelligent posts on the horizon. Now you know why I've been posting quizzes. See you later. Where's the Claritin?
current mood: sick
current music: Ears stuffed up; can't hear it
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rosel's journal
