A few breakaway essentials I should voice…
It seems as though we're not going to be traveling for a bit-- Jay, Muñeca, and me ol' fishy lot. November does its landing, buttering us up for a winter of buffering the nor'east blows and so (and so), thus this little side lot blogger- splotch of wayward ways and ramblings has created its own emergence. I don't reckon the Solhushfandango blog will be put out of commission-- it was and is still a remarkable journal of three peeps communicating their insights from beyound the thousand mile marker-- I'm just needing to peck rambles in the quick tasty testifying manner, and felt solo bleeps would be more appropriate to gum forth. Plus, it's like this: I mutter a lot. Get snared up/glued down in my studio here in the barn at Big Boy Farm. And all-the-while, unabashedly take snaps that accompany thoughts in their hangars caught in mid-flight. Got me?
So.
Just the fish this time, this one.
See what nonsense I can muster with baited breasts and cherry lingo and senile verility.
See what tippy taps can accompany the process of being in one place, yes--- yet one place hopefully mobile.
(eyes used for tooth support)
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