I’ll Give You Fish, I’ll Give You Candy . . . (I really will)

The story of my week, beginning from last Friday to tonight, as told through B-52’s songs.

Had a bad sleep, which just messed shit up, pretty much for the entire weekend. Wanted to dance, wanted to disappear, wanted to talk, wanted to run away.

Nobody wanted to dance – even though I knew it would be so much fun!

Big plans to trade in my used books, go grocery shopping, and just try to feel like things were groovy. Rode my bike into town. It was cold. The books weighed a lot. I was going fast and hit a bump. Blew out my tire! Change of plans.

Sunday could have been so much better. Change of plans.

Monday night I had dinner with my BFF Stacy, and then we went to a reading downtown. All the Creative Writing MFA kids were there!

Last night the house was full of hollering kids.


Today the job with benefits was put off indefinitely. I expected it, but tried not to expect it. Change of plans.

And tonight. At least I have music.

Tomorrow morning I meet Sydney to work on our “releasing sexual shame” project.

Anybody in Flagstaff wanna start a B-52’s cover band?

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I'm a rock-n-roller poet who left the Big Apple for the Big Sky Desert where I've been letting it be and grooving with universal love, singing to the gods, dancing with the muses and bicycling with dreamtime messengers. I like altering my reality through imagination, movement, breath, and makin' stuff.

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