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  1. Flames

    I heard this on a commerical though I cannot remember what for, I think it was some phone, but well becasue of my great love for action-adventure movies whenever I hear it, it just cracks me up.

    Becasue girls love guys who stand near flames.
  2. it's already been a month?

    by , 06-12-2010 at 05:29 PM (Nostalgia)
    I left for the ranch on the fifteenth of last month. I feel like I've been here for a week. Still, a lot has happened within that window of time, regardless of how it feels. It was a typical spring. Snow, rain, hail, lightning, all within a span of about eight hours. The ranch was a bustle of activity, everyone doing their business- the corral was a haze of dust and hair as we groomed all 115 of our lovely critters, the chainsaws, weed whackers and mowers have been a constant drone since the ...
  3. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell

    by , 06-12-2010 at 01:56 PM (Reflections on the puddle of life)

    I eagerly anticipated this latest offering by Mitchell, who is one of the most promising contemporary writers Iíve encountered, and at no point does this novel disappoint. Apart from being the most visually beautiful book I own (it is truly beautiful) it is the most beautiful book Iíve read this year.

    Set during the Edo period, in Japanís period of isolation, in the Dutch outpost of Dejima in the bay ...
  4. changes

    by , 06-12-2010 at 12:57 PM (day in a life)
    this is my first weekend alone. I'm working so it's ok, but when I got home last night it was so strange to walk into an empty house. I found a Beatles puzzle I bought years ago and spent about 3 hours on it 'till I went to bed. Then for a minuet this morning I felt like I had to go and wake my son up and get him ready for school but then I remembered he's off with his dad. I went to work and I just got home, I think I'll do a bit more of that puzzle tonight.

    well I'm making these ...
  5. A Blank Page Like A Lover

    A Blank Page Like A Lover

    Like a lovers arms waits the blank page
    ink a stain upon its pure white face
    as words unfurl the heart starts to race
    and fingers curl like toes in a grip of rage.

    Flushed with heat thoughts and paper engage
    to the pounding rhythm of blood pumping set a pace
    like a lovers arms waits the blank page
    ink a stain upon its pure white face.

    In fevered writing words break free from their
    My Poetry