à la Magaly

Remember that bit about how Life Is Selfish…? Well, I think life dearest took offense to my rather rash words and decided that I obviously did not know the meaning of selfish, and since she adores dealing in lessons, she would take the time to show me how things work when she truly chooses to be in charge.

My schedule is a mess. I usually get at least one day of the week that is just for me, but… no more. I’ve done my ranting and teeth baring. Now, I shall sit still on Chaos’s head, facing forward, waiting until I can drop onto his shoulder and ride him through the mess, until he stops bucking and we start dancing as one.

Until that wondrously tidy dance starts, I shall do what I always do. 

“Overuse the words shall and bit more than is decent?” says the exasperating voice of my Maddening in-Head Editor. 

No, you nosy little bastard, I shall do things à la Magaly. 

“In French? Oh, I didn’t know you could—” 

If you would let me write uninterrupted for 3 seconds, I might—

Um… sorry, my Wicked Luvs, my in-head editor’s mouth is bigger than mine at times *cough*. Anyway, I will approach things the Magaly way. I will work with what I have, when I can, in ways that satisfy my creative wants and needs. Yep, it shall be me, me, me—

“And me?” 

Yes, and you, Maddening in-Head Editor, since one must never lose sight of one’s insanity.  

So, the shape of my blogging will change… again. I shall post more often than I did before. But the posts will be short and seldom linked to prompts. I predict micro-fiction, cherita, haiku, tanka, and senryū dancing cheerfully (and wildly) with pictures, bits of witchy living, and glimpses into my writing day.

I think those of you who have been with me since the beginning will like this. Me? Well, I’m certain I shall love every bit of it. The days ahead look shadow-clad and murk-kissed, so I’m strapping on my wings. The Muse and I, and yes, the Maddening in-Head Editor, too, know just how to soar in the dark.

Fly with me…

 


The stunning work of my dear friend, Stacy, mistress of Magic Love Crow.

 

Spectre

There are so many choices… Some slick and smooth and glossy and prepared to show me the world after just one touch. One or three can bring me fanciful pleasure, if I only give them an arm and a leg and most of my uncommon sense. I am tempted. So tempted…

For hours, which are centuries hiding behind screen glares and keyboard comfort, I roam the realm of electronic chaos… Temptation is not enough. My frugality and I can’t choose.

A gent clad in blue says, “She won’t get too hot on your lap. And if you are a little rough, she will be able to take it. She’s made of sturdy stuff.”

I am rough. I like sturdy. But she is a tad too steep.

My Piano Man reads the struggle in my face, and reminds me, “Frugality is often steeper, in the long run.” His sage tongue-kisses my qualms, and I start tilting towards temptation…

In the long run, I’m enthralled by her name—Spectre: “a visible incorporeal spirit, specially one of a terrifying nature; ghost; phantom; apparition… some object or source of terror or dread.”

to dance with dark words,
the new Spectre has become
my charming laptop

.
the wee notes…
– I had all sorts of fun writing this haibun—it marks the culmination of my computer shopping, and every word of it is true. Also, it felt nice to write something heartwarmingly creepy… especially after scaring one or three of you half to death with “We’ll Always Have Smoke Signals”.
– Linked to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights—Obsession continually fills or troubles the mind… (by the way, for a short while I wondered if adding this to an obsession poetry challenge would be pushing it a tad much… Then I remembered that most of us are quite obsessed with our electronics *and as always, by “we” I mean “me”). Also linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform.
– And, just so you know, although it was only about a week… I freaking missed you!

gothic-womanvia
(yes, the spirit of my laptop looks rather lethal in a corset *cough*)

We’ll Always Have Smoke Signals

She was doing just fine. And then the fainting spells began… She’s an old gal and all, but I hoped we would be together at least until my 40th birthday. I know she is trying. So I don’t blame her… Time is hard on all of us (the insufferable bastard). I must learn to let her go…

…especially since she has fainted at least 8 times in the last 30 minutes. Maybe she fears this note. Perhaps the word hiatus is too scary for her. I understand that. Still, we all have our limits… and my enough-is-enough seems to go nuts in the presence of constant Victorian cyber-swooning.

So, my Wicked Luvs, I’ll write you in a week or so… My household is rather busy at the moment. I need to wait a bit… computer shopping is more fun when I do it with my Piano Man *cough*.

Until then, I shall see you on Facebook and Instagram. And if my phone also fails, we’ll always have smoke signals… and shouting… really, really, really loud shouting… and ellipses, obviously…

hammered-socksThese awesome socks were made for writing (by hand?)
and for getting hammered, it seems…
but since I don’t drink, for writing by hand they will be.