Previous Genius

I just spent he better part of an hour scouring my old notebooks for this one tiny bitty story that I wrote a year and a half ago. Because it is nowhere to be found, it is of course perfection. It serves as evidence of my then emerging brilliance which is now choked and stymied. Without this story I will never reclaim the talent that was once mine. Little matter that none of the other tripe I found in the notebooks is worth beans, this short short is was and ever will be my literary salvation.

I probably chucked the notebook two moves ago.

I did find lots and lots of old Boggle games from when James, Diana, and I, plus miscellaneous other folks, would hunker down at the Grind and boggle our brains out. La-dee-da, the memories wrapped up in lists of ire, roe, are, ear, and rare...

Post-it Ramblings

Post-it Ramblings
Originally uploaded by BozAphra.

Fly Away Boy

As I type Ryan is gleefully tossing clothing bits into his suitcase and speaking of magnetized sushi, hitting the gym, and his secret identity. LA beckons him, a pretty little town with a pretty little leadership conference that he has to attend for business. It's the first time I will be left all by my lonesome in two months, and there's a fissure in my gut that I can't seal up. This week holds the dual challenge of the Pinkies-up Girls. Normally I wouldn't fret over their tidy ways, my overt belching and unbathed skin normally send them into a tailspin and they can't remember which fork they throw first. But without a Ryan to come home to, it hardly seems worth the battle.

Greeting from Korea

Greeting from Korea
Originally uploaded by BozAphra.

I got this sweet little nothing over the blessed Internet for Mr. Yi. I'm sure the sender did not realize that what he actually sent me is the equivalent of a two bean Sambuca. 'The Swine" are old foes of mine from the early days of crime fighting. I weeded them out pretty well for a novice, but I know that Citizen Hambone and what was left of the Trichinosis Gang hopped a jet to Bali. See the way he rests his right hand over his left? To an American that's a thumbs up, but in the Pork Underbelly it means, "You will no longer huff nor puff you silly human with the long black hair, we are coming for you. You murdered our brothers and made tasty tasty sausage that even we were tempted to delight in, but could not as that would make us cannibals. We are not cannibals we are gangsters, though soon we will be assassins."

Citizen Hambone, I'm shaking in my boots. Clearly you've pussied out, as you seem to be hiding your mangled hooves in fingered gloves. What are you Mickey Mouse? Some boss you are. I've got all the sausage casing and fennel I need to take care of your lot.

Am bitchin'

This morning spin around twenty times, hold your breath for three minutes, and take in twenty sharp, hard gasps. Then have someone you like very much point out ten of your worst characteristics in a song-style reminicent of Audrey Hepburn singing "Moon River" while breaking three eggs on your scalp.
This is pretty much how I've felt every day for the last three weeks.
What the hell is going on?