It's now 3:33 a.m. & I imagine this to be significant. I've been sick, sick, sick but think I'm finally on the mend, although my voice still sounds eerily like Kathleen Turner's. It's my whiskey voice. Ha.
I wish I had a voice like Nic Sebastian's, who makes my poem, "Coyote" sound downright chilling! Check it out at Whale Sound.
Dreading the holidays. I don't like shopping. People get downright scary sometimes. Wish I could shop exclusively online but this never works out. I wish I had a funky pink Christmas Tree and some homemade fudge. I have this recipe for spiced chai carrot cake that I think will make awesome cupcakes AND will solve the whole ten-pound-bag-of-carrots-endless-carrots-who-wants-some-freaking-carrots problem. Also: I had a dream that my floor was covered with disembodied human ears scuttling about on tiny legs like a zillion centipedes which surely means I've finally gone 'round the bend.
Reading: Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
Watching: My So-Called Life
poetry and careerism revisited
9 hours ago