Studebaker head has her costume for the weekend!
October 29, 2010
October 28, 2010
Just the Fax.
"In the bar I told Dean 'Hell man, I know very well you didn't come to me only to want to become a writer, and after all what do I really know about it except you've got to stick to it with the energy of a benny addict."- Jack Kerouac.
October 24, 2010
Heartbreak-hotel.
After one grueling heartbreak- I found myself in one of my best friend's closets. Mallory . She had the brightest colors and the oddest patterns of clothes one could imagine. As I stood there letting her clothes run against my heartbroken fingertips, in admiration of all the colors and patterns, it became apparent: we MUST wear these clothes out tonight, in any fashion possible.
Mallory- I exclaimed: "How's about... you wear any outfit I see fit, for tonight. And you can return the favor."
She agreed.
And never once questioned my motives. But instead returned the favor
"Wear bright colors. get out there on the highway and they will let you pay your bills."
Mallory- I exclaimed: "How's about... you wear any outfit I see fit, for tonight. And you can return the favor."
She agreed.
And never once questioned my motives. But instead returned the favor
The 3D glasses, I may have added for a hint of flare.
Leaving her house that night- we decided on new names, and a new motive. Mary and Julie, just two palm readers lookin' for a banjo player.
We arrived at the honky tonk bar in lower alabamer- and proceeded with our new found names, and decided to try our fortune seeing abilities out: "We see a lot of hamsters in your near future" - "You must buy plenty of cages" ( We didn't want to completely scare the locals... just get them invested in cages for their lottery of hamsters) and so the night lifted my spirits and so did the words of Mallory's Grandmother she once spoke to her:
So in hopes that Mallory's Maw-Maw was correct: Hello meet Mary and Julie: May we tell your fortune? I need to pay my bills!
October 13, 2010
To Barry or not to Berry?
Spending the day in the library one narcissistic afternoon, I decided it more beneficial to work on perfecting my signature, opposed to focusing on boring statistics homework. Revamping my autograph, I added a B, signifying my middle name for a touch of style. My inquisitive pal looked down at her notebook as I am incessantly scribbling my new and improved signature onto her personal belongings, asks "Is your middle name Barry?" Images instantaneously blazed through my mind... did she mean
Berry as in: or???? Barry as in:
Did I come across as the sort of person that appeared to be raised by folks whom, depending on its spelling, thought it suitable to send me into this world with a middle name attached to either of these images? Not sure which angle she was coming from but afraid to ask, I responded with the only appropriate response "Nope it's Breann." Deciding after all, it was her property, and a girl's gotta' right to questions, I put my energy into statistics. Leaving the library later that day my friend kindly reminded me "Tiffany Berry- don't forget your cell phone on the table." Turning around as if she had said my actual name, I was a bit caught off guard at the 'ring my new name had to it. (Selecting the fruit vs. the 60's soul singer version)
Berry as in: or???? Barry as in:
Did I come across as the sort of person that appeared to be raised by folks whom, depending on its spelling, thought it suitable to send me into this world with a middle name attached to either of these images? Not sure which angle she was coming from but afraid to ask, I responded with the only appropriate response "Nope it's Breann." Deciding after all, it was her property, and a girl's gotta' right to questions, I put my energy into statistics. Leaving the library later that day my friend kindly reminded me "Tiffany Berry- don't forget your cell phone on the table." Turning around as if she had said my actual name, I was a bit caught off guard at the 'ring my new name had to it. (Selecting the fruit vs. the 60's soul singer version)
October 8, 2010
They Say It's Your Birthday?
You who are on the road....
"Home is where one starts from." T. S. Eliot
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye.
Happy Birthday Gray Owl.
Yep- I'm talkin' to you!
October 4, 2010
Fidy-Seven
Hip-hop artiest 50-cent strongly suggests for 'shorty's to sip Bacardi like it's their birf-days. But my mom being her own woman, and more of a 2pac fan, is probably 'drankin on that Hennessy to celebrate turning 57 today. You go Girl!
October 1, 2010
Moskowitz
After twelve days of unplanned travels and a late arrival back to Denver Wednesday night, I needed beer, music, and friends. Of course I was extremely thrilled to gaze into the abyss of my closet as my Roscommon gear was limited to one pair of jeans, a black shirt and or black tank top, and that purple zip up jacket. This ensemble was pretty much my staple or in other words- (ALL THAT I HAD TO WEAR FOR 12 DAYS)
Meadow has been venturing her little life outside for about five months now using the window that has no screen. However she does have a curfew, when the street lights come on of course. But this night was a celebration. I was back in the city! So I let her roam about the night to be in charge of her own celebrations. And that she was. As I was standing in the kitchen enjoying my wine, Meadow jumps through the screen-less window proceeding to prance her way into the kitchen to stand at my feet. Bending down to pick up my little studebaker head, a field mouse makes the great escape from her jaws into my kitchen. The brave soul standing next to me picks the little fella up, and it becomes clear to me..."ohhhhhh he's so cute" The wine may have been speaking, but the words did leave my mouth.
The decision was made: This mouse cannot possibly survive in the outside world in this sort of condition. He needs to rest and heal up first. My mothering instincts found a beer cap and poured milk into it for Mr. Field Mouse Moskowitz to regain strength. Sure enough he drank it, as I built him a little home from an empty beer box equipped with wash clothes for comfort. We placed his beer clad palace on the breakfast nook and would take turns peeking at him to check his stats. He was all good in the beer hood....
The wine was gone, and my abandoned bed was calling my name. I said my goodnights and engulfed myself in that bed I had been longing for. I awoke the following morning with Meadow purring and being overly affectionate. As I sat up in bed the first cognitive thought that flashed through my head...' 'Really.... really? Did I seriously put a mouse into a box and leave it with a beer cap full of milk?'
Scared to investigate I was relieved to see Moskowitz's palace still intact on the breakfast nook. The pit of my stomach was in knots as I held my breath and veered into the box. Hoping the little guy made it through the night and nursed himself back to health. My findings were far worse than imagined: a missing body! I searched the entire kitchen but alas... no luck. After regrouping and coming to terms with the fact that I may have a new room mate who may or may not be living. I unpacked my miniscule traveling kit and then placed myself comfortably on the couch with my laptop. Kicking my feet up on the coffee table I reached over for my glass of water, and right there in front of my very own face was Mr. Field Mouse Moskowitz! Appearing to have been strategically placed next to my large candle for my viewing pleasure. I am in no way claiming to be a crime scene investigator of any sorts, and am not a fan of pointing fingers. But a certain little studebaker head that eats cat food and instinctively finds mice appealing may have grazed her body past the coffee table only to lay Moskowitz to his final destination
(Side note)- Rest assure... he had a proper funeral of a bud light box and a high end dumpster, and I poured ' a little liquor out... in his honor.
R.I.P Mr. Field Mouse Moskowitz. ?/2010-09/29/2010.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."
Meadow has been venturing her little life outside for about five months now using the window that has no screen. However she does have a curfew, when the street lights come on of course. But this night was a celebration. I was back in the city! So I let her roam about the night to be in charge of her own celebrations. And that she was. As I was standing in the kitchen enjoying my wine, Meadow jumps through the screen-less window proceeding to prance her way into the kitchen to stand at my feet. Bending down to pick up my little studebaker head, a field mouse makes the great escape from her jaws into my kitchen. The brave soul standing next to me picks the little fella up, and it becomes clear to me..."ohhhhhh he's so cute" The wine may have been speaking, but the words did leave my mouth.
The decision was made: This mouse cannot possibly survive in the outside world in this sort of condition. He needs to rest and heal up first. My mothering instincts found a beer cap and poured milk into it for Mr. Field Mouse Moskowitz to regain strength. Sure enough he drank it, as I built him a little home from an empty beer box equipped with wash clothes for comfort. We placed his beer clad palace on the breakfast nook and would take turns peeking at him to check his stats. He was all good in the beer hood....
The wine was gone, and my abandoned bed was calling my name. I said my goodnights and engulfed myself in that bed I had been longing for. I awoke the following morning with Meadow purring and being overly affectionate. As I sat up in bed the first cognitive thought that flashed through my head...' 'Really.... really? Did I seriously put a mouse into a box and leave it with a beer cap full of milk?'
Scared to investigate I was relieved to see Moskowitz's palace still intact on the breakfast nook. The pit of my stomach was in knots as I held my breath and veered into the box. Hoping the little guy made it through the night and nursed himself back to health. My findings were far worse than imagined: a missing body! I searched the entire kitchen but alas... no luck. After regrouping and coming to terms with the fact that I may have a new room mate who may or may not be living. I unpacked my miniscule traveling kit and then placed myself comfortably on the couch with my laptop. Kicking my feet up on the coffee table I reached over for my glass of water, and right there in front of my very own face was Mr. Field Mouse Moskowitz! Appearing to have been strategically placed next to my large candle for my viewing pleasure. I am in no way claiming to be a crime scene investigator of any sorts, and am not a fan of pointing fingers. But a certain little studebaker head that eats cat food and instinctively finds mice appealing may have grazed her body past the coffee table only to lay Moskowitz to his final destination
(Side note)- Rest assure... he had a proper funeral of a bud light box and a high end dumpster, and I poured ' a little liquor out... in his honor.
R.I.P Mr. Field Mouse Moskowitz. ?/2010-09/29/2010.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."
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