Bird Woman

In the hush of the quiet morning, her heart beating inside the hanging of her ribs and spine, the woman gathered her cowl close to her neck against the cold air. She was never one made for keeping company with brambles and stones; her heart belonged aloft, clinging to the currents of air with feathers as soft as silk. She patiently bided her time, visiting her brethren daily, until she could make her return to the skies.

This morning I fell in love with ink all over again. I stray from it and grow lonely. After a while I determine I need to return, and, upon doing so, realize I should never have left to begin with.

Weekend Jaunts

Tommy singing in spite of his sickness.

Tommy singing in spite of his sickness.

Boss Battle were sludgy and fun.

Boss Battle were sludgy and fun.

International Bitterness Unit rocked out!

International Bitterness Unit rocked out!

Hawk Vs. Dove were a lot of fun - really heavy and rhythmic music.

Hawk Vs. Dove were a lot of fun – really heavy and rhythmic music.

And from a Friday night show:

Alex singing and playing guitar for the inaugural Scarletien show.

Alex singing and playing guitar for the inaugural Scarletien show.

This weekend we celebrated my lover’s birthday – we went out on the town Friday and Saturday, to see live music, his band performed to a really energetic crowd, we had cupcakes and pizza and freshly-grilled squash and beer and chicken wings and generally imbibed of life. Also, he enjoyed receiving his totally badass presents.

Above are just single shots from each of the bands we saw perform. I’ve uploaded many many more to my Flickr. If you have a minute or two of boring Monday mundanity browse my plethora of Flickr pictures. I’ve had a bit of a dry spell with my creativity of late and am trying my damnedest to get back into a good flow – doing things like drawing, painting, photographing, soap-making and hopefully sculpting. I’ve a few really great bones with which I plan to make some cool things, so keep a casual eye on my blog, Facebook page, or Instagram to see what I come up with.


HeadHelloI did some digging yesterday and look what I found! A lovely aoudad (barbary sheep) skull! The horns are long and undamaged, the teeth are intact and the bone promises to be a pretty, pale yellow once the sun and ants are finished with it! This is probably of my favorite skulls in my collection so far: it’s right up there with the bird skulls and young buck. My collection is growing and I am expecting a couple new additions soon! I’ll post pictures when they arrive!

If you’re a fan of my skull pictures and other raunchy photographs of decay, visit Dear Deer  ( There you will see nasty, rotten-fleshed, maggot-ridden photographs accompanied by melodramatic, sick ramblings! Yay!

Let me take this moment to say I’m excited for the recent developments in my country’s legislation. I am an LGBQT+ ally and am overjoyed to see this day come to pass. It is well past due. I could rant and rave but will keep this blog for my arts and leave politics and my declining patience for the outspoken, barbarous zealots in my small circles for my personal diary, nestled between pages where I track my period and bitch about hangnails.


In a house with a miniature theatre, sitting restless, full of yellow-dust air and the warm creaking of old wood, built where there should have been a foyer, the crowd gathers on the teak steps. A cat claws its way to the  underside of a balcony and hides, hanging upside down beneath well-fed asses. People lean and shush in an attempt to be good a good audience to a nonexistent show.

A train, only two cars long but with a huffing and grinding coal-burning engine comes to rest in a golden wheat field. There are enemy soldiers gathered there and the best sneaking is insufficient to elude them.

A party full of the diseased: the addicted, the twisted, the pathetic, carries on in a sad mixture of desperation and idolatry. As my fellow and I do our best to escape there approaches a woman who has long harbored a sick obsession with him. He reviles her but she persists. The diseased psyche attempting to latch onto him creates in him a hatred for existence and he leaves everything to wander the streets.

Snippets of dreams.

Dead Mice & Giant Hummingbirds

Through the thick, tinted glass I pointed out the many large hummingbirds attending to the trees in the courtyard. They easily measured a foot from beak to tail. My friend had a hard time seeing them, she looked carefully into the courtyard, searching for these giant, small birds I told her about, but had no luck seeing any. There were dozens of them flitting about and hanging in the air like cotton on a still day, but I felt I was the only one to whom they were visible.

We left the office and walked through the arid neighborhood: a city street with sparse buildings on either side. No grass adorned the lawns here, only orange sand and giant, flowering cacti.

We parted ways at the testing center and I went in to find my fellow. He sat at a long, low table. It was one of many chained together in a hallway. There were a few other people in the hall talking quietly or reading. I sat across the table from my fellow and greeted him, holding his hand.

When the bell rang I left the table and entered a testing room. I sat at a desk next to a blonde woman who lit up with joy upon my arrival. We whispered to each other throughout the test, which was very casually administered, and became fast friends. She followed me to the table at which my fellow sat once we both finished our test and sat down next to him as I sat in my previous spot directly across from him. He and I held hands and kissed over the table then I went to fetch books.

Upon my return I saw my new, blonde friend sitting directly against my fellow, her hand on his knee. She made no move to distance herself as I returned. I looked at her, bewildered and explained to her how betrayed I felt. She became embarrassed when my fellow chimed in and reiterated my sentiment. Embarrassed not because she was caught, or wrong, but because she knew then she could not succeed in wooing him away from me.

She moved away from him, her face burning, all the while excuses and misdirection tumbled from her mouth.

My fellow and I left through the rear exit of the center and found seats in a desert garden. There snuck about our feet small, bald, sickly mice. The poor rodents fell to the ground in droves, dead.

Dream snippet.


I'm a NaNoWriMo 2014 winner!

I’m a NaNoWriMo 2014 winner!

Great news, all! I hit the 50,000 word mark tonight! I have succeeded at winning this year’s NaNoWriMo! I still have about another 20,000 words until my story is wrapped up and I intend to continue writing at the same pace, so I should have a complete first draft before the end of the year. It’s my hope to team up with a publishing house to take my story to print, but I’ve never navigated that route before and I am doing my best to maintain some healthy realism: my novel may suck.

I’ll know better after I’ve edited and sent it to a couple of friends for preliminary read-throughs. Fingers crossed it’ll hit shelves as a full-on book within a year or two!

Contagion in the Between

The night grew dark and I paced in a nervous anticipation of the show ahead of me. My fellow was gruff and impatient with my lack of experience performing and uttered horrid things in the hopes I would hear. I left to find my sister.

I arrived at a large estate undergoing renovations: piles of musty insulation and rot-addled wood sat in the middle of each room. The plaster veneer of the walls was crumbled, chipped and peeled away to reveal the skeleton of the structure and between the beams in the ceiling there stood a vast array of stars. Certain doorways contained sickness, others death and the remainder held other rooms.

A small, white cat ambled the halls, unaware of the nature of the betweens and subjected itself to misery. The cat ran wild and feverish through the building, which only housed me, until it exited and spread the contagion among men outside. The men, fearing suffering and mortality captured the cat, dragged it into the house and threw it into the space cradled in the ceiling. As the poor feline whiled away its time bored and lonely in the between space the men milled about and worked on the house. They formed plans of division and containment: in the near future this house would be filled with small rooms and winding hallways full of unwanted people. Here they could live without windows and in the company of dangerous betweens.

I watched from my perch on the third floor stair as they worked until I heard music from outside. I ran, finding my sister on the path back to the venue. The band had begun without me and played furiously to a crowd of faceless drunks. I waited until the song ended then climbed on stage to find the songs were not what I knew. I stood there, a statue of embarrassment as the band carried on without me.

The show ended, the crowd left and I stood with my fellow; his temper spent on the drums he was pleasant now. We returned to the dark house to explore now that the workers were gone. In the space above us a man cried out and told us that time would send an opposite cat. As we walked through the rooms in various states of disrepair and reconstruction, a cat, identical to the first but of a much nicer disposition, strolled into the house. She followed a serpentine path through the clutter on the floor and approached a blank wall  Before us the wall danced and waved like water cupped in unsteady hands. The wood and plaster became a dark jelly and through it walked the sick cat, no longer sick.

Dream snippet.