my sweet hunk o' trash

honeys, what does it mean when everyone's reading this blog as well?
"What a bewildering variety of blogs! The complexities of the inter-relations between them could keep a professional critic busy for months." :)

Is it that hard? Not really. But the time frames do tell.
I love the unconnectedness of this one. And all its innuendo. I could look back at this five years from now and not remember what I was talking about. I'm still afraid of my pain. And I love how I would simultaneously post a melodramatic scream over here and some lighthearted piece of fluff over there. And all the posts that became the poems, and the poems that became posts. Perhaps it is only indicative of how many people I am. I still like being multiples.


Summertime and the livin's easy,
Fish are jumpin', and the cotton is high.
Oh yo' daddy's rich and yo' ma is good lookin',
So hush, little baby, don' yo' cry.
One of these mornin's you goin' to rise up singin',
Then you'll spread yo' wings an' you'll take to the sky.
But till that mornin', there's a-nothin' can harm you
With Daddy and Mammy standin' by.

With music, how can the world be bad?