Dog Clock

A clock, and there’s a watercolor painting of a dog in it.

clock dogs

There's all this stuff. I've been wondering if I should make the blog into something a little more personal.

Well, it’s the dead of winter here. That means 55 degrees and a lot of rain. Everything’s brown, you know what I mean. I am taking a class where I learn to wash my hands.

Today, disaster. Kitten disaster. She was in the music room, fucking around with everything as usual, and she tipped over a piece of bead board, which tipped over onto my guitar on it’s stand, and then pushed the guitar over onto a chair a la Million Dollar Baby, and my baby broke her neck. Clean off. If Jesse’s bass hadn’t met the same fate just one month ago I would think less of it, but as it is, I feel jinxed. Maybe this house just can’t stand us being here all the time. I don’t know. But, it’s expensive. I know that. Oh, she rang like silver and she shined like gold, and she shook it.
But she won’t for a while. Oh it makes me sick.
And, my instant messenger won’t work. I was trying to talk to my cousin, and it pooped. WOE IS Me. Oh mercy, woe is me.
I kid. Everything’s as beautiful and magical as it used to be.

Box