I don’t blog a lot.
I like to write.
I like to think,
and I love to feel.
I’m also a pisces.
And if you don’t believe in all that horoscope shit then you’re probably not a Pisces.



“How do these all connect?” you may be asking yourself.
Or perhaps you’re thinking, “Get to the fucking point already bitch…”
In either case, I’m gonna tell you.

Yup, there it isss.. some stinky ass fish…
Pisces typically are regarded as dreamers, usually with their heads in some artistic fantasy land, or as my mother would say, “Up our asses”.
We also happen to be pretty intuitive, and although we are far from judgers, we are good at ‘reading’ shit.
No I don’t mean your palm, or a deck of tarot cards or even some Ouija board (although I’ve been known to do all three), what I mean is the ability to read people’s motives, and personas as well as situations and, bear with me now… vibes.

(Okay, Okay, I know I lost some of you with this flaky
“I see dead people” shit, but if you’re still here, just shut the the fuck up a minute and hear me out…)
So, when I start writing, it’s usually because I sense something is already there.
It just has to be revealed.
It’s like a chipping away a sculpture from a block of stone. You can see the form, feel it’s presence, but in order to bring it to life, you have to believe in it, and IT in YOU.

Michaelango’s “Captives” Waiting to be let out…
In other words, I feel as though the writing takes ME where IT wants to go, I merely serve as the vehicle that gets it there.
Nothing is planned, or drafted. Kind of like pulling the string of a motorboat to get it revved. And just like a motorboat, many times it takes a few “pulls” before catching… if it catches at all.
So, it’s not that I don’t want to blog as much as the words themselves prefer not to be blogged.
This is where I think my whole pisces shit helps and hurts me. I think this helps me delve in to the topics I write about, and in turn, get extremely invested.
This is all fine and well except it also can be a colossal waste of time if the writing itself stops cooperating. It’s a team effort, which, I know sounds fucking weird considering I’m speaking only of myself.
It’s true though.
So many times, I have started writing and after hours, I just straight up trash it. I don’t trash it because it I think it sucks, I trash it because at a certain point the piece itself just gives the fuck up.

Dunno if I’ll throw the towel “In” as much as I’ll throw it “At Your Fucking Face”…
Any artist will tell you, and if you yourself are an artist you know, forcing creativity is always a backlash. It stifles the art as well as the artist and the result is more often then not, crap.
That’s why, rather then forcing out a daily fart of a blog, just for “hits” sake,I’d rather keep my mouth shut and my fingers away from the keyboard.
Listen up, I want my writing to accomplish stuff.
And by stuff, I mean giving everyone involved, an actual feeling to remember.
It’s usually funny and silly, because that’s just my nature, but once in a while, it just might influence someone’s eyebrows to do something unexpected.

this pic always reminds me of that song
“Put It In Your Mouth…”
you too?
So that’s what I have for you tonight. This moment wanted to explain itself despite the several attempts I tried to dissuade it.
This very blog just tonight has already visited the topics of “Being Spontaneous” to “My Big Fat Christmas Tree” to “Why I Had Kids” to “Fuck You Mother-In-Law”, and somehow, on it’s own volition it has ended here.
I’ve learned at this point that I should just go with it.
It asked me not to trash it, and so, I won’t. As mothers we all know that “You get what you get, and you don’t get upset” so I ain’t hatin’, and I hope neither are you.
Goodnight.
I get it. And I’m a scorpio. 🙂