Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Tuesday, January 17, 2006

    Wolf Moon

    First, thanks, guys for your lovely comments. Thanks too for letting me use you as guinea pigs. I’m trying to work myself up into writing a luuuuvvve scene for the book (can’t have a book called Just Another Love Letter without a love scene or two; that’d be false advertising). Love scenes and chase scenes, man, they’re tough. Of course, I might just get Julie to ghostwrite the love scenes for me ;-) (we need to talk!).

    So I’m coming out of my seasonal funk. Feeling the sap rise, feeling the fire burn in my belly again.

    Last Thursday, I thought I’d burst out of my skin. I was full of that bad, twitchy kind of energy – mouse energy – that makes me just want to scurry around. I was irritated, feeling like I had fur under my flesh, rough and itchy, impossible to scratch. Too much on my mind, too many things I can’t control. I’d buried myself in my head and my body was trying to revert to some animal state. To go feral.

    Sam, my sweet-but-exponentially-dumb Jack Russell Terrier, scratched at the back door to be let out. I opened it and hooked him on his leash. As I knelt in the doorway, the wind picked up. Night wind is a rare thing here. I listened to it roll out of the southwest, until it shook the tall pine tree outside the back door. The tree made that delicate roaring sound that only countless pine needles rubbing together can achieve. I stayed on my knees and felt the air brush my face, the wind a bare breath warmer than the air.

    I crept outside, still crouching, and opened my mouth. I sucked in the wind, drank it down. I swear I tasted sagebrush and wet clay and wood smoke and something else I couldn’t name. The air felt thick in my body, substantial, water-like. I looked up. The moon was almost full. I sat down and continued to breathe through my mouth, watching the moon, listening to the wind. No other noise disturbed things, not even a single coyote howl.

    Sam wandered back to me. I heard one of the boys inside getting into trouble.

    Reluctantly, I stood up and opened the door. One last look around the yard and I stepped inside. The air in the cathedral seemed thin and false, warmed by vents, its heat a cheat. I could still feel that rarified night breeze inside me. It moved in the blood pumping through my heart.

    The jangley mouse energy had smoothed out. I felt something new, something bigger, stronger. This new energy tempered my worries. It made me feel like I’d gotten some power back. over myself.

    I feel like writing again. Just like that. It’s out of hibernation again. This is the year I complete my first novel. I don’t even care anymore if it sees the light of a published day.

    Current Music: Will the Wolf Survive? -- Los Lobos

    5 people left me a love letter:

    Anonymous wormhole f. quark wrote in a love letter...

    Good for you! Nice to see you up and vibrant with all that wolf-y energy. I expect this is the year of the novel for you as well.

    Enjoyed the gardening blog entry a great deal. Good writing - you had me going....

    Like your choice of current music as well.

    11:53 AM, January 18, 2006  
    Anonymous wormhole f. quark wrote in a love letter...

    p.s. I like this bit especially:
    I crept outside, still crouching, and opened my mouth. I sucked in the wind, drank it down. I swear I tasted sagebrush and wet clay and wood smoke and something else I couldn’t name.

    4:55 PM, January 18, 2006  
    Blogger Julie wrote in a love letter...

    Lovely! I love your desciptions and the pictures you paint! I can't believe I haven't linked to you yet (I will remedy that this weekend)!

    Love scenes are want it to be graphic enough for people to be turned on...but not too graphic that you turn others off. My guy and I run into this sometimes...I will talk about something I read or he will mention a site that is just too graphic and silly for him and he doesn't buy it (he hates reading things like "my greedy c**t" hungers for you throbbing c**k). And some people hate certain words p***y, c**t, etc (I can't believe I'm too nervous to be graphic here!) It can be tricky. But you gotta be true to yourself! If you are serious about talking about the scene, or toys or anything fun like that, you let me know! It's my passion and I could talk for hours!

    2:21 PM, January 19, 2006  
    Blogger mykl jon wrote in a love letter...

    Writing a novel eh? Well you certainly got the licks for it! I say,"Get as graphic as you so desire. Whatever the novel calls for." The novel will have a direction and quality that you give it but it will also have your voice." Now maybe I don't know what I'm talking about because I have never written a novel but I've read them and I know artists. Spill your guts then scoop up all the ones that you think nobody else will want to see. Sort through all those guts you scooped up and serve up the ones that will give the novel vibrant life. Does that make any sense? You have the desire and talent. Do you have the persistance and courage to follow through?my guess is...YES
    Look at how dedicated you are to the blog. You write with ferocity and frequency.

    8:52 PM, January 20, 2006  
    Blogger Nixxie wrote in a love letter...

    Love your pictures!!! Makes me miss the states!

    Thanks for your comment in my journal. This is my first time actually using a blog here. I am used to LJ and came here because I needed a change.

    12:44 PM, January 22, 2006  

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