| Poem for Thursday |
[Mar. 4th, 2004|10:59 am] |
( Cement Guitar )
( Drive-By Bitching )
This morning I was awoken by my husband and son having a big fight about a baseball bat, and the day has only been more of the same sort of thing since.
I didn't read much flist; wasn't in the mood after some of the shit I ran into early on. Sorry if I missed anyone's latest opus or anything. I can't do the desktop meme, I have a pic up that I've sworn not to show anyone (it's not dirty or anything, just by a fan artist who doesn't want her work passed around without permission). I have no bunnies for ![[info]](http://piktures.deadjournal.com/userinfo.gif) wednesday100 and am in a "dribbles, I mean drabbles, are for shit anyway" mood. Will see everyone later when hopefully the rain will have washed out the pollen and seeing people will have put me in a better mood.
ETA: Oh. Ehrm. Speaking of drabbles for shit, I wrote one very, very late last night for mandc100: "Preserved". Like I said, for shit, but I felt I owed Killick a dribble of his very own. |
|
|