Come on Get Crafty: Blue & Roses

It has been a while since I've done a crafty post, but I've been tinkering around with some card making and cannibalizing my fashion mags and catalogs again.

I originally wanted to do red nail polish drops but I couldn't find my red nail polish (I think I gave it away actually).  But I'm rather pleased with how the red paint came out instead.

Giving up my shopaholism

Lent rather sneaked up on me this year.  Tooling around on the internet, I started to wonder why everyone was suddenly discussing Mardi Gras.  Turns out it was because it WAS Mardi Gras.

2014 has not started out smashingly for me.  There are many major things in my life that I am not contented with and am frustrated with.  I have to work hard to find/make things to look forward to, and the slow linger of winter (no matter how normal and expected it is . . . March has always been wintery here) makes it hard to find the easy mental fixes and recharges that nature can offer.

I have noticed that as these troubles have arisen and also lingered, I have started to turn towards shopping as a temporary happy time in my (many) glum days.  I enjoy fashion for something-like-these-reasons:

BAFTAs 2014

The best & silly things about the BAFTAs this year (if we ignore who won and lost):



#1   Stephen Fry.
#2   Stephen Fry's introduction to Emma Thompson:

"In film, a goddess.  In real life, a stinking piece of offal."

Poem: Spring, for some people

I am trying trying trying to do more writing. I ordered myself to write one poem this weekend. So of course, ever the contrarian, my brain actually made some significant progress in two story ideas I am developing for screenplays.

But I did manage to do a little poetry experiment and come up with this poem, based off of the best words from page 131 of Lucky magazine's 2014 March issue. 

Poem: highways & melodies

highways & melodies

I listen to the drum beat
and hate it

filled with the drag of chairs
televisions
the bottoms of cups and glasses

the horrible crumple of plastic
holding food

bang cabinet door, car door
distantly, again
and the next day
and the next morning
and the night

Poem: resting places

I've (finally!) been on a poetry kick.  So sorry, but there might be a bit of an onslaught of poetry posts.

This is the second draft of this poem.  I am always surprised to find just how much I modify my poems after not seeing them for months.  It is pretty interesting to seem the grow and evolve.

I kinda wanted to call this 'resting places for young bones' but that seemed to wordy and ostentatious.