Spiders and flies

"I was brought here by flies," I said in my sleep. This was not a mere assertion from a demented mind. (We'll skip that discussion for now.) It was a demonstrative statement of fact. Periodically, I come up with these announcements—and frequently in the company of my boyfriend. These notions (or pronouncement as my partner likes to call them) come in the space between waking and sleeping. Grisly and spooky, this business of sleeping.

There were a couple of things I mentioned on our podcast

Head Wound

that I said I'd put on our blog. One was the website for my pal Patrick who is the dad of Magenta, the tarantula and also a writer (not Magenta, but Patrick. I don't think Magenta can write. Although if she could, I would be quite interested to hear what she has to say.) Patrick's website is:

www.patrickletellier.com

. Currently, Magenta has no website, although she should. Patrick says he'll forward me a picture of Miss M. When he does, I'll give you the link. I also mentioned a cool zine that I liked. Called

Bug

, it is written by Bryan Kring. (

http://www.kringdesign.com/books

) He's got some really interesting zines on his website—

Peephole

,

Wart

and

Specimen

—that I plan on getting. When I do, I'll let you know what I think. But definitely pick up

Bug

. It's cool, creepy and well done. I bought

Bug

at Pens and Needles, here in SF (

http://www.needles-pens.com/home.html

). Pens and Needles

has DIY goods, great zines and magazines and a great gallery.

Wickie

 

In the dark

per usual. Working to increase my time in here creating. Nasty business this practice of tale telling. Certainly not my agenda as I would be content catching and snacking on the random fly that wanders by. But work I must. We bleak children need to tell our tales. So. First, get out of bed. (Or drag your computer or pens into the bed.) And just do five minutes. None of this carrot on a stick. It is flies, kiddy kiddies that we seek. Oh, I forgot. I don’t eat flies anymore. Or only here and there. For I am a wounded thing and meat tires me. So it is the fake fly on a stick that awaits me. I leave the live ones to...her.
Wickie