For Fools and other well dressed folks

April first is the day. Here it is in the solidish print of the plasma page. I'm planning on hats. And cream puffs. It's the day that my fabulously fantastic terrifyingly brilliant novel will hit estores. The House of Slide, about girls and souls and sadistic bad guys. I wish I'd made a sadistic good guy, but not to be. Well, maybe a little bit. This girl Dariana has this super power mafia family who are trying to find her brother's killer before he finds her, if something else doesn't kill her first. And the love interest, Lewis, is all kinds of heroic and marvelous, besides which he drives a purple car. If that's not enough to engage interest, we also have the psycho stalker demon monster rider whose always threatening to steal her away to his world. He's gotten a lot of support in his pursuit of the girl. I tend to agree, but no, we must be loyal to Lewis and his purple car. Hmmm, purple car vs. demon monster. I should do a vote. No, no, that's a distraction. The point is, hats! So there will be a hat contest instead. And I will once again attempt scones to go with my peppermint iced tea. Oh, we are excited! And exciting! I will post pics!

Fuchsia

It's poetry day! We are so excited as we don our beards and round glasses. First, Frost, because it's almost time to give it up,
The way a crow/ shook down on me/ the dust of snow/ from a hemlock tree/ has given my heart/ a change of mood/ and saved some part/ of a day I had rued.
Isn't that lovely? Some people, you see, like getting snow dumped down their necks. Also, it means something about walking beneath hemlocks when the crow might drop something that isn't snow down upon you. Also, it's about a crow, and I'm all about crows. So, excellent poem. Anyone else? As a matter of fact I came up with something sublime earlier today. Let's see if I can recall it in its magnificence.
Ahem.
I wish to stretch to the color of fuchsia,
hot, blooming, and somewhere else.

It doesn't rhyme, I know, but that's the best I could do. I have this bit of fabric, silk I've been saving for a decade (all right, over a decade) and perhaps this is the year I will make something magnificent out of it. I can write my poem around the hem with a nice pen. Black against the fuchsia, or maybe pink which could signify something brilliant. Naturally, what else would it signify?

Something about nothing

And here we are. Arial and all that. My premier post should be brilliant and magnificent, with clever french phrases and poetical quotes that shake you to your gelatinous core. So, let's talk about goggles. I particularly like how you can have things reflect, explosions, leeringly masked doctors with dangling scalpels, scantily clad women who have improbably perfect hair and makeup in spite of their shredded clothing, that sort of thing, all through the reflective gaze which has something to do with Plato. There, I threw in a philosopher. Dashing I think, particularly as it came after goggles. 
Now on to what I really wanted to discuss...