Vampire Vocab

Today’s word: Hircine (adj) Resembling or smelling like a goat. Also: Lustful. Let’s assume, in the context of modern vampires, the latter will be the use. And the sentence! The hircine vampire, hungering for blood, approached his prey with measured steps and a wicked smile.

This is not the normal sort of book I review, I guess. Multiculturalism by Charles Taylor is a unique look on an age old problem of providing an environment compatible with various diverse cultures. I’m not sure thatI can explain it exactly, I just know I really enjoyed it and the philosophy it presented. It’s [...]

Inspired by Rebecca Kling’s Three Questions on Blogher, I’m writing this post. 1. What do you love? I love Piven. I love the feeling that I’m changing things with my words, that the clearly defined line between mind and body are blurring, and power emerges from the tearing out of that cocoon. I love that, [...]

Ok, so I didn’t do so poorly, driving yesterday in a cemetery, of all places. In fact, for my first half hour of driving ever, it may have been pretty good. I’m not sure because Daddy insists that he won’t give me anything to compare against. I.e. He won’t tell me how I did relative [...]

Denise’s iPhone 4s…So. Incredibly. COOL.

Memories. My daddy has given me so many memories, beautiful memories, and more every day. I remember nights of collecting lots of books and sitting down, eager to hear Daddy read me each one. I remember trips, lots of trips, Incredible trips, from the snow-capped Whistler mountain to the heat of Tanzania. I remember learning [...]

It’s been one of those days.

Today’s word is: Grume (noun) A thick coating, esp. a blood clot. And the sentence! The fang marks from the previous week were aching and covered by a thick, hard grume.

I would write a poem for New Orleans. But I’d feel like that would be selling out. Letting details slip away as words do.   I would write a poem for New Orleans. A poem of destruction and rebirth but I can’t find words.   I would write a poem for New Orleans. Of drunken [...]

So, this is kind of an old story. I wrote it a little while ago, but it’s ok. So, here it is! Oh, and it’s kind of long. But oh, well. “Candy”   Grotesque. Lyra’s deadened mind could conjure no other word for the vision before her. Frank, the head mortician, was whistling a cheery [...]