A shop owner has been told to remove a mannequin from his window after police were called.

SOCIALISM

put your cursor on his nose http://www.selfcontrolfreak.com/slaan.html
or
draw a stickman http://www.drawastickman.com/

There then - that filled a couple of minutes - my public service for today.

Before I begin, this is mainly a means for me to vent, so please forgive me if I don't take this too seriously.

It started with a cucumber.

The sun was shining through the red kitchen blinds, which gave the fruit a peculiar, rotten look. Sandy stared at it for so long that it seemed to shrink. A million thoughts raced through her head as to why the fruit seemed ten times smaller than when she placed it on the cutting board. A million thoughts, maybe more.

You be a resourceful bunch, so I hope you can rise to this one...

Somewhere in my cranial recesses I recall seeing a picture of flying ducks - you know, those kitsch ones that came back into fashion a few years ago? Those porcelain ones you plak on your wall?

So, I’ve been sad, hopeful, happy, excited, encouraged since I started writing here. Right now I am just plain pissed off.

with my little eye.........a blogger named

So, I have been really thinking about what Arrthymia commented on my post, which hurt by the way, because it touches a nerve, or perhaps a better thing would be to say that it fuelled a fear.

Her hands skittered like albino spiders across the reception desk. Back and forth, impatient to get this over with.

Day two after seeing him again. It feels like there is a hole in the universe where he supposed to be. In the day I am usually able to avoid the hole, but at night I fall into the misery.

OK. Good. A home to bleed emotionally onto the screen. Take my pain and make it yours. Perhaps by sharing it I will somehow dissipate it. You see, I finally broke my own heart.

The City of Angels never handed Daeng a pair of wings;
a duffel bag sits like a tombstone on her back.
Digging into the flesh of her bare shoulders,
the straps,
in the fluorescent flicker, frayed strands of Death’s hair
growing out from within her blood cells.

Daeng’s rusted tin roof tan flakes in places.
Too-old-too-soon fingers cover her pigeon-holed smile;

Her jaw is throbbing.
She has been chewing on his love for too long;
rolls it over her tongue,
feels the sting of empty promises in her gums,
fights the spikes of his lust in her lungs.

Her hands are shaking.
She vomits and splutters his lies against wall,
perforated promises aflutter,
like the wings of dying insects
caught in slime-drip-butter.

Her left knee buckles.

I had a dream last night, and one of you was in it.

Father, please forgive me for I have sinned. Father, my last confession was 25 years ago. A lot of shit has gone down since then. I have stolen, taken the Lords name in vain (a LOT), lied through my teeth, coverted my neighbours husband, drank far too much, ate way too much of what is not good for me, abused my body - your temple and have wontonly (SP?) chassed the buck. (oh, and a few men).

Well fuck me how time flies! I see not much has changed in that time though...

Drachenfutter

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