“They got there early, and they got really good seats.”

Hey boy howdy I wrote something weird this time when I really should be sleeping! I hope you enjoy this little random-sentence adventure!


Continue reading ““They got there early, and they got really good seats.””


Random Sentence Prompt

I was looking for a way to unwind and feeling somewhat down for having written so little in the past year. Work has been pretty mentally stimulating, but that also means more taxing than it used to be, too. I don’t have as much downtime to listen to music, which usually helped inspire me with little plot ideas here and there, and those would evolve into story points later that day when I was home again.

I’ve also been inspired for two years in a row now by my talented boyfriend, an artist who participates in Inktober each year. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s a motivation to draw something (in ink, preferably) every day for the month of October. I’ve always been intimidated by National Novel Writing Month in November (NaNoWriMo to those who know), and something shorter seemed appealing to me, something I can more easily fit into a typically hectic month of my life.

Anyway, I just looked up a random sentence generator and went with what it gave me for the opener. Fun fact – this is basically the same way in which I began my first book, although I’ve long since edited the original sentence out of the story. It was for an English assignment… :B

Here’s some random drivel, though. Just because it’s been quiet in this part of my brain for too long.


Continue reading “Random Sentence Prompt”

A Tribute

I have an amazing dog.


No, everyone says that. And every dog has its special greatness, from the wonder in their eyes when they walk out into a snowstorm, to the tender look they send your way during a peaceful evening at home. I can’t tell you my dog is more amazing than most, or even some dogs.


But my miniature dachshund is amazing, too. And over the past few weeks I have felt a growing desire to write something about this. (And lots of other things, but, that’s another topic.)


In early 2015, Dexter – that’s the amazing one here – suffered an injury. Thanks to a careless kick under his tail from an oblivious man, a bruise formed that was so severe, his skin actually separated from the muscle underneath and the muscles then herniated as a result of his normal efforts to potty.

A lot of you already know this story. I had to crowdfund the third round of surgical costs after the first two I tried were not successful. And I won’t get into gory details about his current state and level of recovery, though I will say he will never fully heal to the point that his injury fades from memory.


He’s a sweet little guy. He loves my boyfriend, Jim, more than anything else, except maybe my cat, Squall (his adopted brother). I’m hopefully somewhere on the list, but I swear he loves Jim more than I would have believed. Jim and I live in different units of the same apartment complex. When I am out walking Dexter and Jim comes to my place, Dexter picks up his scent the moment we get to the elevator. But, as I live on the fourth floor, Dexter has to endure an entire elevator ride to the top, which is utter torture. He sniffs and huffs madly at the floor, then begins pawing at the elevator door and whining loudly, giving a good impression that I am torturing him. As soon as the door cracks open, he squirms his body out and yanks me down the hall, literally running full-out if I let him.

Then, as I open the door to my apartment, Dexter is seized with urgent need to find Jim. He can smell he’s in the apartment, but at a height of 12-13” or so from the floor, Dexter has to hunt and then – oh, there he is! The way he dashes forward to greet him, wagging so hard that his back legs struggle between hopping and running, only to throw himself on the floor and squirm eagerly for belly rubs, is amazing.


Dexter is a longhaired dachshund with a dapple pattern (that means he’s mostly black, but has random patterns of gray and brown splotches). His ears and neck area are by far the fluffiest parts of him. When a sound catches his attention, his ears perk up and his body vibrates with tension; it’s a very serious moment for him, although each one of his ears is about as wide as his face, and covered with fine black hair that goes in every direction, so he looks mostly like he stepped out of an 80s hair band music video.

Every morning when I get ready for work, he sleeps nestled in the blankets at the foot of my bed, where they fall down to the floor (the floor is his territory, naturally, given it is the vast majority of what he can reach). I have my routine, puttering around with cosmetics and looking for clothes, but as time goes on, Dexter memorizes more and more of my habits. When I’ve signaled that I’m done – he’s not always right, but it’s usually if I’ve come in for earrings or socks so I’m close to ready – he crawls out on his belly like a soldier on the battlefield. Tail wagging, his back half caught up in the blanket, his ears tousled and puffy, his brown eyes shining as they fixate on my face – and then he lets out at least one giant yawn, as if to say, gosh, it’s early!

Half-swaddled, he rolls onto his back and flails his stubby front legs, curling his head along one side as if to give a come-hither look as he wags harder and harder until I bend down to pet him. I scratch and rub him all over, and I say Good Morning, Dexter, and I know after these years together, he understands the sentiment.


He doesn’t know really any tricks, honestly. That isn’t why he’s amazing. As the last year and a half has shown me, what is amazing about Dexter is the way he adores me, he adores the people in his life, he adores my cat, Squall, and he simply loves life. He is perfectly content to grab one of his toys – or the too-large bone that he sometimes drops halfway along, clattering enormously on the wood floor – and settle in next to my chair or beside the bed, ready for a long chew session as I go about my life. He often spends hours simply gazing at me and Jim as we play games, watch television, or pursue our creative endeavors quietly to ourselves; I look up from the screen or a book, and there’s Dexter, watching. His expression is peaceful, satisfied simply by my nearness.

Dexter and I have struggled together and he has licked away many of my tears. He may not have had a responsible enough owner in his youth to be trained in the art of shake and play dead, but he knows how to love. And that, for me, is enough to warrant taking a few minutes to capture just a few small reasons why Dexter is such an amazing part of my life. One day, I know I’ll have only memories and photos of his bright brown eyes and rockstar ears, but the impact on my heart will last a lifetime.



When reading about tracks from the succubus club…

…which might I add I am not especially fond of even though I like several tracks…

how can someone really rate “fall no more” lower than “hemoglobin”? the latter once inspired a friend of mine to say (in mockery) “I must list one of my favorite instruments as the band saw.” Beborn Beton, while a band that I love most of the time, still makes me laugh far more than Bella Morte. Maybe it’s unfair of me to judge based on the Engrishy-accents that occasionally shine through. I dunno.

Oh well, to each their own.

Anyway, I just bought the newest Bella Morte CD and I am happy that I did. I wasn’t huge about Beautiful Death but I like Before the Flood and, I can’t lie, I am a big fan of Andy Deane. So there you go.