Brown

True love, like cookie dough malts or the caribbean blue of my cupboards is the passion. Brown used to be a color to hate. Who would paint their house brown? I didn't understand. Growing up in the desert where the sun beats down while you drowse, soaking up the color of dirt, it's everywhere. You step into some shade, the color green filtering the beating sun, the cool beneath your feet of prickly drought resistant grass, green was the color of my heart. Now it's brown. Here the green explodes at you from every side, a continual assault that never ever gives your eye rest. My house is brown. When I first moved here I wanted to paint it almost any other color, now, remarkably, I'm satisfied, no, pleased with its dun color.

Hit and Miss

Mostly miss. Somehow I never thought I wouldn't be happy with a love triangle going the way I wanted it to go. I mean, Unearthly by Cynthia Hand, I read, very much liked, and yet, I am dissatisfied with the resolution. It's not that I don't like how it ended, I do, but I'm not satisfied. This makes no sense, even to me. In the Phantom of the Opera I root for the Phantom, mostly because he's more interesting even if he'd make a terrible boyfriend. So her decisions are actually very intelligent real world wise, but not as interesting plot wise. I suppose that's it. It's like if Bella met Mike and they hit it off and Edward was a cute guy that Bella crushed on but didn't actually like. Hmmm. Unless she still got sucked into vampireland, it would be a cute story without anything dynamic. Two people being together who are good for each other is really great, and we want that in real life, but it lacks the torment that sucks me into fiction.

Pea Soup

It isn't morning, it isn't evening, it isn't noon, or night, or any other time at all. It's pea soup time, when the world is so thick with fog you can't see yourself sneeze. Every time I opened my eyes there it was, pea soup, and so my eyes closed right up. I can't keep my eyes open when that thick glaze fills the space between myself and every other object in existence. Three times, I tried to wake, arise, all that, each time conquered by pea soup. It's humiliating.

Hotblood Hat Party!

Oh, it was MARVELOUS! Of course I did not do cream puffs or anything else like that, but Jamio brought shortbread, so that was all right. Jamio also was the exciting winner of my hat contest. She won the  grand prize. One copy of Hotblood, and a Freud magnetic doll. There were some exceptionally fine hats in that doll. There was a civil war hat, several pageboys, three widebrimmed hats, two straw, one felt, two cowboy hats, one camouflage hunter's cap, one ruffled knit cap, two bucket hats, and of course Jamio's flower wreath. Not technically a hat, but I okayed it since she made it out of blackberries, clover and daisy. She is very Cool. I mean, if they existed, she'd definitely be one. She's also cool, but of course, everyone who came was. Cool, Wild, Hot, all of that. None of us were Hollow though after we ate the gorgeous pineapple salads. Three people brought pineapple salad. I think that's completely appropriate considering how hatlike I've always found them. It's a fruit with a hat.

Delivery

Every time a UPS driver pulls up in his ridiculously sexy brown truck/van (what do you call those hulking frigates?) my heart rate accelerates and my mind races. What could be inside the package? Is it something exciting, a misdelivery for someone who orders tights from Stockholm, or is it something I ordered long ago and forgot about? Is it something about rhetorical theory? Oh, the options are endless, and tantalizing, like eating chocolates with hidden depths.

Florence and The Machine

"A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my mind" unless it's eye.

I love this song, Cosmic Love, in this twilight, the shadow of your heart. I love it for the slow buildup that comes to a magnificent crescendo that makes me want to haul myself into a perpendicular position, suspended weightless by the drums. I'm not sure it's a love song. It actually reminds me of my character, Dariana and her relationship with her brother, Devlin. The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, in the shadow of your heart. No, not really romantic, at least not my kind of romance, but the tune is so super cheerful that the lyrics should be a little happier to go with it, or they're shooting for contrast. Hmm.

Demons or Demon killers

I stared transfixed as the creature leaped towards me while my body fell backwards into empty space. A hand grabbed my wrist; a hand that burned on my flesh, and another on the black coat that I could feel the heat through while I dangled over an abyss gazing into the blood red eyes of a horse that couldn’t be a horse. It screamed and steam came out of its nostrils warming my face. The sound of the scream scraped over my nerves his open mouth showing teeth that were curved and pointed like fangs.


 I like this bit. Hotblood was originally more about the Nether Rider than about Lewis. Seriously, sometimes I wonder if he wouldn't make a better primary love interest. All that darkness and riding around on a demon killer horse.