One Hand Loves the Other

The sun is glaring through my window, illuminating me and the pile of note cards that surround me with things like ANDROGEN INSENSITIVITY SYNDROME and BIPOTENTIAL STRUCTURES PRESENT AT EACH STAGE scribbled across them. My elbow rests on a page from the American Journal of Human Biology to reach my keyboard.

I'm taking a break from studying to write...something...and to take care of the cherry pits that are scattered around my books and cup of coffee upon the table.

These days have been so happy.
Fulfilled.
Strange.
Connected and solitary all at once.

Beautiful.


The family I have created is a strong one.

The visions that I have are strong ones.

Let's get to all of it.


(Imagine the most emotion pulling film score, here. Full of trumpets and violins; crescendos and elation.)


Back to the books and The Case of the Missing Androgen Receptor,


k.

Listen to An Echo a Stain.

(title credit: A lyric from Bjork's song Unison, off the album Verpertine)
(image: I fucked up, here. It's from Tumblr. I'm not sure where it's from, but upon investigating, it looks like it originates from Stephane Rolland Haute Couture)

Sex on the Sheets

This painting, Reclining Woman on Leopard Skin (1927), is by Otto Dix.

Consider it, will you?

(click on the image to enlarge it)


Be well, be loved,

k.


P.S. I'm past the 10% mark of the 50,000-word-novel-by-the-last-night-of-November goal that I started November 1st. Makes one be creative in when/how/where they can write while still working, going to class, taking care of life.  It's a good lesson to learn, stretching these muscles and finding these crevices to hide in and write.  Strangely, there is still a lot of socializing that is possible when you're around other people and their artistic endeavors: An added and deeply enjoyed bonus.