No post for days, and now a deluge, as if to lull you into a false sense of security, and then attack you without mercy until to succumb to my twisted demands. Yeah, so when I think of some twisted demands, I’ll let you know. Got the idea here, and it seemed like a fun meme to do. Take the first sentence from the first entry of each month, and that’s your year in review. I may do more than first sentence though, because halfway through this, I realize most of my first sentences are … rather boring. I like to use short sentences.
January: Another busy and weary Sunday.
Sisyphus didn’t think on these things.
February: In Soviet Russia, the dishes do you.
March: Hey look, it’s March!
On a brief side note, I think our kitty may be bulemic.
April: [I was a lazy sot.]
May: [A really lazy sot.]
June: Don’t run away so quickly.
Still. The house air grass wind walls mind fingers time seems still now. Still. Still. Still. Still. Measure out my heartbeat with the word … it is too quick. Measure out my teardrops with the word. They are too plentiful. Drip – Thump – Still – Drop – Tha-thump – Still ——– and so on.
July: I’ve little thought of what I might do once I reach Olympia.
I’d like to think my actions make nice, concentric circles somehow emanate from me, pulsating lily pads and reflecting lines of sunlight. More likely my actions are like the kid who cannonballs at the pool, soaking people who don’t want to get soaked and getting water up my nose in the process.
August: Well-situated. Killer house, well-located.
L’azur, a hint of purple.
Weaver of blue immobilities.
I’ve rowed ‘neath the eyes of floating jails;
I’ve arrived home at last.
September: If that’s all there is, my friend,
then let’s keep dancing….
Swing word-schemes like a jitterbug;
if that’s all there is, my friend,
then let’s cut a rug.
October: In the mornings, I invariably make coffee,
strong, strong coffee; and listen to Diana
Krall sing some great jazz in DTS.
November: Don’t fret the whimsicality of strangers;
songs hummed below the breath
are songs waiting to be sung.
It’s irresponsible to be scared to fall in love.
December: That is, perhaps, the weirdest expression
that I had never, until now, heard.
Life is good. Today the sun shone,
and I wore the sunglasses of contentment.
A bagel and coffee at Otto’s to start the day,
like we used to do in years past.
And that’s my blog-year in review.
And now my blog is a full year old.
Happy Birthday, blog! *sniff*