My Five Game of Thrones S5 Questions and a Statement

  1. where the hell was Ghost?
  2. where the hell are Bran and Rickon?
  3. where the hell is Gendry?
  4. why the hell is Daenerys always surrounded by hordes every last ep of season?
  5. what the hell happened to Catelyn Stark’s resurrection as Lady Stoneheart?

  • the last ep made me a Cersei fan.  hayi shem, she is a badass bitch. and she go make ’em sparrows pay. and errbody who ever, ever, messed with her. man, forget Daenerys, she’s been coming for Westeros since forever, there’ll be nothing left to fight for. let Daenerys stay there with her hordes. the white walkers are coming biatch! 

midnight, a poem

midnight burning
in the grip
of a muse so
yet alluring
binding by
entranced they
till i’m seeing
voices and hearing
it is the
witching hour
and i’m

*a remixed borrowing from Mmatshilo Motsei’s title Hearing Visions Seeing Voices

#FlashFictionFriday: suddenly beautyful

Suddenly he was beautyful.

She was sure she was still looking at the same fool. The same fool who used to pull her pigtails out when she was eight. The same fool who moments ago pulled her ponytail in jest. Yes, he still thought that was funny. Seemed to enjoy it more when she got annoyed. Always made her end up laughing when he smiled at her as if he hadn’t just annoyed her.

There he was suddenly beautyful. Suddenly making her feel things she had mailed express to guys who didn’t deserve her time. He was always there when the things she sent were returned unopened stamped “return to sender”. He’d brush a runaway tear off her cheek, serve her all the gin she wanted then let het write sad poetry and listen to love songs. He’d leave quietly when she started to howl the songs.

She gazed at him trying to figure out when it was in the last twenty years of friendship that he had become this. Beautyful.

“What?” he smiled.

“You’re beautyful,” she said.

“I know,” he said. He chuckled at her frown. “I’ve always known it from the way you look at me. Even that first day we met when I pulled your pigtails.”

She was stunned as he averted his eyes, doing that funny chuckle he always did when he felt awkward.

“You know I hate it when you pull my hair,” she said. He glanced at her and smiled. A goofy smile she had never seen.

“I pull your hair to find out if you’ll stop looking at me that way,” he gazed at her. Reached over and instead of pulling, brushed a stray hair into place.

And just like that, it was she who suddenly felt beautyful.

#FlashFictionFriday: In the Eye

She should’ve been storming. Exploding, crashing, tearing hair out. Tossing the wig. Screaming. Losing it.

But something had settled. Cut through the chaos. Slipped through the din. Landed in her centre and quietened. She wouldn’t call it peace. Not with all the bedlam. There would be havoc all around. She thought she should be in the maelstrom but realised not this time.

So she simmered. Opened up a door that let zen in. Seemed after months of her looking for zen, zen had come and found her. She wasn’t sure how long this would be but it was right now. There would be no raging on this day.

Just the silence.

manifesto. a poem. 

(the Black Letter Media manifesto)

 everything you have 
ever imagined already is.

 just pluck it out of the ether 
curl it up in your fist 
charge it up with good intent 
and throw it out to the world. 

 with every fleeting thought 
your soul whispers to your 
future self that your 
true self already is… 
hidden between insecure and fear. 

 when you listen to your inner voice,
see with your inner eye 
you honour your past self
because all flinching isn’t fleeing. 

 so steady yourself. 

 take care with every word you wield, 
for every stroke carries a magic,
a way into the hearts of many.  

 when you go below the surface, 
push yourself beyond mediocrity, 
you pay homage to those who came before. 

 for even they knew fear but never flinched. 

 so embrace the challenge because
when you have named yourself
when you have defined yourself
your authentic self is capable of brilliance.

 with every triumph your true spirit shines.

Love Work

because actually i love and enjoy working.

what i hate is how other people thrive on making work a miserable experience. they can’t bear the thought that excellence can be collaborative and doesn’t have to be micromanaged by them or because they fear excellence and are addicted to mediocrity…

i work because there’s inspiration everywhere and stories don’t have business hours or holidays. because time, in my life, is continuous. because stories are infinite and i’m building something that includes a hundred year legacy…