Simone’s Blog focusing on nothing in particular, though including comments about this world which we share, or memories of a wild life in the midst of a wild world in Jackson Wyoming, which dovetailed abruptly into politics, art & Buddhism vs. Western American Intellect, all things film, painting and my current passion, the long form scripted series — as it was my career before newpaper madness began melting down Web Presses I’ll post irrepressible reviews– other appreciations, like cosmic concerns/observations, on love, drugs and little stories— remembered and happening now —
–or those told to me by the 7 familiars who live with me– 3 cats large, larger and huge black beauties; two little rescue dogs smaller than any of the cats, one hairless but for bed-head shock, huge tufted ears and pom-pom feet, & one a slick tiny vanishing black chi-rat mamma dog with long-long skinny legs– each less than an inch in diameter– who travels on taps of a high heeled fashionista on the runway of our cul’de’sac; and an ever present, all white all aware and comically right tiny parrot who stays up till 3 in the morning to sing hello/goodnight to her daddy dude–the yummy kind beautiful man sharing our lives, who surprises us all with playful little devotions, who plays supreme and struggles happy with art questions, music complications, and sticks with existential decisions through to meaning, who not even reluctantly keeps me perfectly quiet company while I sit at this screen. Or bends to his screen in mutual endeavor. What we have is perfect here, our little family of critters and sapiens… all except for the lack of sun. Thus the blog ass to spheres begins again.And now is it time for me to climb aboard my magic carpet! A Queen bed dappled by breathing fur everywhere, fast staccato grunts, droning purrs, cheeky chirps & whistles all kept in the beat by the occasional bark .. bark twist barky bark grrrr.. the game is a foot, we’re awake, Shameless and ready to bowl. You coming?
Dear reader, you too, get under my covers, lots of room in this digital toy box between diary and publication–please bring your truth, I can take it, and this bed/rock has been converted to run on humor hot fuel, indignation trail mix, tender whispers into the well, inspiration and expiration, analytical mazes and as many sexy critical energetic arguments as the Muse is willing to referee. Contribute?
Simone Lazzeri Ellis