the journal of nothing at all

small things have been happening as autumn creeps on

                               distant friends send little life preservers through the post

i loiter around abandoned pumpkins and dream about wattle fences and a little home of my own; a stranger tells me i look like a john singer sargent painting, egyptian woman.

we eye the corn warily, strange things are always afoot in old maize

there are windfalls galore, jade-painted fingernails from an irresponsibly indulgent manicure that turn me into some strange idol, ghost stories, cider, rampant attempts at supping on all the autumn i can handle to stave off the impending horror of winter with its smothering early darkness and muddy floors

and errant vegetable matter

and small spots of death being in fact quite proud and up-Himself. 

here is a good description of a playlist i found in the guts of tumblr:

This 120 minute painting mix is perfect for the bleak midwinter…cold, a little sad, a little angry and very danceable. Perfect to listen to while defrosting yr windshield, applying lotion to yr dried out skin, or while walking the streets looking for discarded cardboard to use as shipping material.