It's my third blogoversary. It's also a time of year when many of us look back and evaluate the previous year.

In the past, I compiled my favourite posts for my blogoversary. This year, I don't feel like doing that.

I wrote less on my blog and read fewer other blogs. It was easier to engage on Twitter and Facebook.

I felt like I could better describe my emotional state on tumblr than on my blog.

I'm still not sure why I have this blog. It's not for attention, I don't make money, and it's getting more difficult to be honest about my life online.

But I plan to continue.

Thank you for reading. Best wishes for a happy, healthy, prosperous 2012.

Written on iPod Touch -- because I spilled coffee on my laptop. A LOT OF COFFEE. I hope in 2012 I have better karma and am less clumsy.


The Sixth Annual Blogger Christmalhijrahanukwanzaakah Concert

The Sixth Annual Blogger Christmalhijrahanukwanzaakah Concert, hosted by Neil of Citizen of the Month, is now LIVE.

It is amazing. Watch and listen to these funny endearing performances by very talented bloggers.

And look for me about twenty acts down from the top, with my own special take on a New Zealand folk song.



Blood moon.

The fickle blood moon hangs like a wafer in the midsummer night’s sky, pulling the tides that caress the shore.

The stare of the evil stars is constant and unyielding. Our bodies explode like a car crash in an empty rural road that lies like a ribbon next to the sea.

I am enchanted and wrap my arms hungrily around your neck, tossing thoughts like pebbles into your ear.

I drown in you, like an anchor cast into the sea. You are water that I try to catch in the net of my fingers.

Will we fuck like dark and savage animals? You pass through my shadow, and I want to consume you, but you elude me so easily, disappearing into the fathomless depths of an abyss.

And so I must slip quietly from your body with the fog. As I creep over the mirror that's shattered into splinters on your bedroom floor, I see a ghost’s icy reflection in the shards of glass. I am not yet afraid.

I leave a trail of rose petals in my wake. Time drags me on a distant path into the unknown toward death, and I imagine that I am dreaming.

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