Delicious Cat Tea!
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
=.= + [_]) ?
Wednesday, November 5, 2003
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
8:27PM - My, my, my
this place is dead! Well, I've got a nice, big pot of (*) - steeped with a fresh tabby - and some ($)$s in the oven, if anyone happens to show up......
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
Tonight, I am drinking english breakfast tea with a shot of bacardi gold, and a licorice root stick.. MMM.. FALL.
Fold an origami bat at the cat tea corner!
Monday, July 1, 2002
Sunday, June 2, 2002
Friday, May 24, 2002
I only briefly caught Ana the other day... Unfortunately she didn't have time to regale me with the details of her trip so far. I just wish that she had taken a camera with her. Come back! Come back! ~beckons Ana with $($) and (*)~
Saturday, May 11, 2002
anyone else going to the princess games at festivus this spring?
*sips (*) *
Thursday, May 9, 2002
4:24AM - gasp
i'm here to tell you that despite what ryan, empy, revie josiely, mr. orin, and the rest say, i DO NOT and have not ever served medealy brand instant walrus, even if it IS named after me...... (that's purely coincidence)
*sips (*) *
Wednesday, May 8, 2002
3:41AM - litany
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--
By Billy Collins