Seeds

Fleeting

Alley Mice

Next to mom's old Frigidaire,
ran an alley to the wall,
where mice would park
their itty butts,
and wait for crumbs to fall.

Stitch

Ye gads! There's been a tear in the space-time continuum!
If we don't act fast, we're gonna lose the 9!

Open

Red Herrings

Though, actually, I've never seen these fishy characters in the Clark Fork...

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tags:
red herring
fibonacci

camouflage

keeping an eye open...

Ah.

IFN wants to know: What is your biggest fear?

Six weeks before I was to graduate from High School, my mother
dislocated my jaw, and kicked me out of the house.

A friend found me a place to stay in town, but that house turned out to be dangerous. I was raped within the week. (back in those days, asleep
and unmarried = implied consent, so there was no point in reporting.)

It was not impossible to find places to clean up, or even to find food, but I had nowhere to stay during the night. So I started looking for safe places to hide.

There was a small river nearby, and twice I thought I'd found a choice spot to hide out. With a childhood of practice playing Army under my young belt, I was quite adept at making "forts" - a skill that paid off. But both camps were soon appropriated by drunk cowjocks and partying rednecks.

I soon found out that the safest place to sleep was under parked cars. I chose them specially. I made note of who went to work when, and rotated my spots according to the neighborhood's commuting schedules. Barring oil leaks, the undersides of cars are clean. No bugs. And they're reasonably safe. Wandering sociopaths don't think to look under cars for prey.

Off and on, I spent most of that summer sleeping unprotected, and I've never forgotten what it's like not knowing for certain where I'll be staying, or if I'll be safe. To this day, I cannot walk down a street without scouting for possible hideaways, in case the need should arise.

Paradise

[click on image to enlarge]

But I love my car!

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Buzzed

Karma

Ghost

Smitten

this song was dung-written
by two birds, bitten
by love,
while they was sittin'
in a cage, barely fittin.'

Celadon Birds

This started out as a project to try and draw birds that looked like they were made of celadon. But this is what came out...

Quiet

Agent Orange

Kittens having kittens...

While visiting my parents, I've been feeding 3 cats: Puma, Snaggletooth, and Miss Thing**. Well actually... I've been feeding one cat, and co-feeding the other two...(Snaggletooth and Miss Thing are also fed by a neighbor. He feeds them more than enough to sustain them, but that doesn't stop my parents from putting out a bowl every morning at 8.) For a long time, the system was perfect. My stepmom had three bowls, and the three cats had 3 spots picked out by the door.

That was until Agent Orange started coming around - a pink tabby kitten - maybe 3 or 4 months old...? At first she didn't eat so much...just a little bit out of Miss Thing's bowl. She mostly hung around to play. She loved climbing the trees, and swatting at the other cats' tails. She was clean, fluffy, and energetic. We all assumed she had a home in the neighborhood, and was just coming by for the extra food and company.

Almost overnight she has become much more aggressive. First pestering the others while they ate, she now actually pushes them from their bowls in an attempt to eat the canned stuff I add to the dry food. It's gotten so that I have to stand guard over Puma's dish, because he won't stand up to her.

A little more than a week ago, I noticed that her tummy was too large for her body. For maybe a second, I thought to myself, "she's getting fat from all that food," because her winter coat was filling out, as well. But her tummy seems rounder. And it is her tummy that continues to grow. I think Agent Orange is pregnant.


**The names have been changed to protect their privacy.

Change

Every new season, I claim is my favorite. Autumn's colours this year are bringing me to orgasm. (Makes it hard to walk, lemme tell ya.)

Safe

Taking a deep breath.

There are so many wonderful things I love about Missoula:

Our muffled winter fogs; the way the snow can fill our valley like a bowl of heavy cream; quiet streets shaded in the summer with maple leaves the size of dinner plates; and the incredible greens and blues shimmering in waves up the hills around us.

But what I love most are these days in May, when the lilacs are in bloom. There must be almost a hundred lilac bushes in every square mile inside Missoula - at least one or two bushes on every block. Colours in the palest of lavenders, whites, violet, and deep purple…spilling over fences, gathered in groves, and hedging entire property lines .

Missoula's lilacs intoxicate. Their fragrance drifts in the air. It permeates – saturates our clothing, our hair. It fills our lungs, and tickles our minds. It teases, arouses, and renders everyone in love. People on the street will stop in their tracks for no reason, but to inhale.