This is my post

I  am still working on that story. So this is my blog post for today. Hoping I'm done tonight so I can sleep. Back when I've hit SEND on the submission.

Slow words

Certainly I can't be the only one who finds that sometimes, even though an entire story is floating in the foggy reaches of my mind, I cannot find the words to pull it down and make it firm enough to solidify on the virtual page. 

That's been happening this weekend, as I struggle to meet a deadline, one that I promised Shanna Germain that I would send something for. I'd already missed Kristina Wright's deadline for her steampunk call. I'd resolved (sorta kinda) to submit my work this year. And it's the end of February and I've done nothing to meet that resolution. 

So, I'm sorta disappointed in myself. Which is not hard for me to be. Though sometimes I think that maybe that's needed to help drive some of what drives me (when it drives me - often I've felt like I'm in neutral lately). 

Nawashi Shadow

Anyhow. Tonight, while everyone (just about) are watching the Oscars, I'll be staring at this image and trying to get my story finished. 

Whoops! So much for everyday

Yesterday got away from me. I'd intended to do a post late afternoon after spending time writing, but we had some unexpected, unwelcome news and that was it. Then we were out in the evening and by the time we got home and I got to my computer, it was after midnight. And today I'm gonna be occupied too for the entire day and evening, so here's a link that should keep you busy enough for yesterday AND today.

http://oglaf.com/        Trudy Cooper's NSFW comic.

I clicked that link the other day on Violet Blue's blog and proceeded to waste enormous amounts of time.

I'll be back tomorrow.

It's dawning on me...

February dawn

There is no one direction my writing is taking me, and rather than fight that, I have to allow myself to wander. there is so much in this world that I find fascinating, why should I limit myself? Do I have to have a niche?

I've always loved being out in the open, the sky filtered only through trees. And I've never questioned that love. But when it comes to my writing, I'm constantly putting shackles on myself. Telling myself I can't write something because... well, because... I should be writing something else, I don't know anything about whatever it is I'm thinking of writing about, nobody wants to know about what I think, that my interests are too eclectic and it's better to have some "hook" that people can hang their interest in me on.

But that's all bullshit I tell myself because what it comes down to is I'm afraid someone will question my knowledge, intentions, morals. They'll question ME. Who I am. And to put myself in that position would require that I stand up for my views, for what I believe in.  Because I'm pretty damn sure that my views and beliefs will be very different from those of many people I know. I guess I'll have to grow a pair.

"Certainly you will write things that I won't be comfortable with. That's okay." This is something my husband said to me in response to my questioning him about his views on the direction some of my writing seems to be taking me. I want to say "I'm lucky" but really, what does luck have to do with any of it?

This is all in preface to what this blog post is really about. Yeah, I'm long winded. Those of you who really know me know that, hahaha. 

Back on January 1, I started eating paleo. No grains, beans, legumes, white potatoes. In January I avoided dairy also, but have now added a little back in. Lots of veggies, meat, fish, eggs, nuts and seeds, fruit. I'm doing it for health reasons, because grain and other starchy carbs really do a number on me healthwise, and I want to live a good long time.

So, along with reading several books and lots of blogs about paleo, I signed up for an email newsletter that alerted me to this blog post at Mark's Daily Apple on "8 Health Reasons to Have Sex (As If You Needed Them). The post is pretty SFW, with health info that for the most part I already knew. But it was  nice to see it brought up. All too often, sex is overlooked as a topic for the reason that it's a very loaded topic. What was that old cocktail party advice? No talking about politics, religion, or sex.

What I found interesting were the comments. There was the full range from snarky & sexist to sincerely interested. One of the comments linked to this article at Newsweek about the book Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality by Christopher Ryan, Ph.D. (that links to his blog at Psychology Today) and Calcida Jetha', M.D. This reminded me that I'd been interested in this book last year (I'd put it on my Christmas list, but I guess Santa was too embarrassed to bring it), and had been reading Ryan's blog on occasion already. Here's a bit from the website:

"In the tradition of the best historical and scientific writing, SEX AT DAWN unapologetically upends unwarranted assumptions and unfounded conclusions while offering a revolutionary understanding of why we live and love as we do. A controversial, idea-driven book that challenges everything you know about sex, marriage, family, and society."

So, I'm going to order it tomorrow, probably read it non-stop when it arrives, and write about my impressions of this supposedly controversial book.  I can't wait! 

Have any of you read it? What did you think?

So, yeah, it's almost midnight and this post is supposed to be a Thursday post! More tomorrrow!

NOTE: And thanks Craig for letting me know about that posting flub - Blogger was being weird last night and wasn't letting me save my post as I typed, so I typed the whole thing again before posting it finally. Apparently it was saved. It was very weird. So if you read the post during my night, there were duplicated paragraphs. Gone now! :)

My profile's up at Erotica For All!

After dragging my feet, and various other body parts, for months and months, I finally sent my author profile stuff to Erotica For All. The brainchild of Lucy Felthouse, it's a wonderful resource for both writers and readers of erotica, and I'm very happy to be there!

Just a teaser

Some days I can't think of anything to post when I have plenty of time. Today I got an idea for a wonderful post but don't have time to do it up right. So, this here wonderful song is a teaser for what's in store tomorrow!

Today is Lady Porn Day!

Call it serendipity or synchronicity. Today I found out, via Violet Blue, that today is Lady Porn Day! And through that link I discovered the Rabbit Write blog ("A public discourse on private matters"). It's also Erika Lust's birthday. Let me explain how this is seems synchronous to me.

*see note below

Last year, after doing the Please, Sir blog tour for Rachel Kramer Bussel, I was offered a chance to review Erika Lust's book Good Porn: A Woman's Guide. I was excited when it came in the mail, and proceeded to read through it. And I enjoyed reading it, but...


I felt totally unqualified to review it, or even talk about it. Why? Because, as a woman in her early fifties, I found myself conflicted when it came to even thinking about viewing porn, much less actually doing so. Oh, I'd seen enough clips here and there (like at the Museum of Sex), that I knew that I found visually explicit images a turn on. But a lifetime of messages that porn is BAD, along with my own issues surrounding my sexuality and all the myriad influences over the years on said sexuality, kept me from actually diving in and watching anything more than just those random clips.


But last night, I finally started working on my "Good Porn" review and sent some questions for Ms. Lust (that I'm hoping will be answered). Why did I suddenly get back on the ball (so to speak) and start working on this?  Because, for the first time, EVER, this past weekend, my husband and I sat down together and watched Erika Lust's first film The Good Girl (2005).


I'll be writing more about that, and about a lot of other things soon. My brain is working overtime. Let's just say that by the time I attend the Momentum Conference in April, I think I'll have gone through a sea change when it comes to what I'm able to write about. Should be interesting!


*Note: Today (Thursday), I just read a great post over at Kristina Lloyd's blog (with some great links to other blogs) about how at first all the promo pix for Lady Porn Day were of women (like the one above). That's been remedied I gather. I have to say, it has me thinking a lot about what I like and want to see. 

A departure of sorts, though maybe not

When thinking about what I realized I had to write about today, this image of a woodpecker designed birch log came to mind. Because something I read this morning made me want to beat my head against something, repeatedly, in the hopes of knocking it all out of my brain. So this rant will probably be a departure of sorts from my usual writing here. Though I'm probably the worst judge of what I write.

What I read was about a certain Georgia House Republican (I'm not linking or even writing his name because I don't want to be linked to this foolishness) who has introduced a bill to the state that includes something that basically says that all miscarriages would need to be investigated (just to make sure they weren't really an abortion, which of course the bill is outlawing, etc. etc. ad nauseum).

Yeah, this is insanity. It has no chance in hell of passing (let's hope). But still. Even though I don't reside in the state, never have and never will, I felt personally attacked. Because I am a woman who had a miscarriage. 

That miscarriage happened almost twenty years ago. It was traumatic, both for me and my family. It happened at home. So, under the provisions of this bill, I would have had to have been investigated! My mind boggles! 

How can ANYONE think this would be a good idea? And as this comes on the heels of all the other anti-women legislation and news at home and abroad happening recently, I can't help but feel the threat, just because I am a woman.

So, I'm waiting for them to bring back burning at the stake. 

Flawed

So often I want what I do or make to be perfect. Because I want to be perfect. And not be the incredibly flawed person I am. 

And so, I place roadblocks at every step of the way for myself. But I hurtle myself at them. 

This post makes no sense. It's a Sunday night and I'm tired and more snow is on the way and tomorrow is a holiday so there's no school and I'm glad but I'm not getting the things I need to get done, done.

And I don't understand why. What are those roadblocks made of?

I am the queen of procrastination. I've raised it to an art form. Hell, I should do these blog posts early in the day so I can be done with it and not find myself in the evening with nothing to say. 

And yeah, doing this blog-post-every-day thing is a drag. I know that once February is over, I won't be posting every day. 

I'm glad February is a short month.

At a loss for words

At least to write here tonight. Oh, I have lots of ideas. Lots of projects in the wings. Subjects to tackle. But right now I just want to relax. It's Saturday night. It's windy. I'll write more tomorrow.

Finally!

I sent my bio to the wonderful site Erotica For All. Not sure why it's been so hard for me to do. I worked on this damn thing for days! And now that it's sent, it's like a weight off my shoulders. Whew! I promise to post when it is up on the site.

I'd write more, but I have two more items to cross off my list for today, so I'll just leave you with this slightly suggestive picture. Maybe it will inspire some writing!

Thinking about those red pins

Folks from all over seem to visit my blog. This is just "recent" visitors. There seems to be two clusters of what are probably my regular readers, those on the East Coast of the US and those in Northern Europe & UK. I've always found it interesting that I don't have more readers on the West Coast. 

Out of the last 500 visits, roughly since sometime in January, about 85% are from the US. No surprise. Then in descending order: United Kingdom, Canada, Ireland, India, Germany, Australia, South Africa, Mexico, Luxembourg, Italy, Peru, Croatia, Switzerland, Morocco, Czech Republic, Republic of Korea, Vietnam, Columbia, Chile, Japan, Netherlands, Russian Federation, Spain, Portugal, Malaysia, Belgium, and Indonesia. (Note: I'm not sure of the timeframe of the above map, but it sure doesn't reflect my last 500 visitors.)

Over the past couple of years of doing this, I've probably been missed by a few countries (don't think I've had any hits from Antarctica), but not many. I've not kept track of the states, I'm sure that I've had at least one visit from each of the 50. 

I know who some folks are, since they leave comments and I can match them up, but most visitors are unknowns. I often wonder if they like my blog, or find it so-so, or find it a complete and total disappointment because they were looking for porn, and did not find it here. I even recently wrote a search word poem using the most common search words. 

In the past year, I haven't worked that hard at promoting my blog. Not sure why. Maybe because I'm happy with it being somewhat small and intimate. Not sure I'd want an insanely popular blog. I know I could do things to make mine more popular, but that's never been my aim. Though I admit that I've always liked seeing the numbers of visitors creep up at times. 

But more than that, I like it when someone "discovers" my blog, and reads back in it, comments, and keeps coming back. I've made "friends" that way. Connections with other writers. Probably because it's other writers who connect with what I write here. 

Sometimes I feel guilty because I haven't been able to keep up with other's blogs. Blogs written by friends that I enjoy when I do have the time. I wonder if they think the same things I do as they type away: Who the hell is going to read this and will they care? 

But, that's not why I do this. Yes, it is, but not completely. I do this because I have that writerly compulsion to "not shut up." Even when the greek chorus of voices is telling me to stop. Stop writing, stop sharing, stop going on and on when nobody is listening (that's the evil voice that I listen to far too often).

I do this because I have to.

Lazy blog post

Well, I was going to do something, but it's late, and I keep doing it wrong because I'm tired. So, this is going to be my blog post for today. Tomorrow it will be much more interesting. ;-)

Quiet

Not much to say today. Some days dawn better than others. Today is not one of those days. Lots to think about.

To the heart

This is my third Valentine's Day post here at Erobintica. In 2009 I was still very new at this blogging thing, with only a couple of months under my belt.  Last year, I posted a picture of a bright red lily, and wrote a poem (which I centered on the "page" despite really not liking centered poems - it just seemed appropriate), so I think I'll do that again this year. About ten days later I posted about my actual Valentine's Day evening activity (trying out Susie Bright's I Dare You cards). Don't think I'll have anything quite so interesting to post about tomorrow, other than my insane attempt to bang out a story on deadline for Kristina Wright's steampunk erotica call.

So, without further ado... 

Flushed crimson, scarlet, palest pink
lovers dream of lovers, of touch
fingers on convex, in concave
pressure, sensitive
dermis
capillary lust
awaken to the dream
pulse to feed what is alive
come, be not afraid of what lies ahead


Happy Valentine's Day!

On the eve

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. A day filled with heart-shaped everything. So, just because I didn't know what else to do, I googled "heart."

First up was the official band site for Heart. When I was a young woman, I really liked them. Still like their older stuff, because listening to it makes me feel young again.

Next was the Wikipedia entry for this myogenic muscular organ. Very romantic [insert sarcasm here]. I started thinking about my age, and before I knew it I was clicking on heart disease and starting to feel old again.

None of this is what I wanted to write about. I wanted to write about the heart in the metaphorical. A heart swollen with joy. A heart skipping a beat in fear. A heartache.

The metaphorical heart is a complicated beast. True only to itself.

Tomorrow there will be chocolate! It's good for the heart.

A few things to read

Today I'm just going to post some links to stuff I've read lately that either I enjoyed or got me thinking.

Just read a few minutes ago, so of course it's first: Every Time You Orgasm, An Angel Gets It's Wings by Heidi Anderson over at Good Vibrations Magazine. Thank you to Emerald, who linked to this in her wonderful Recommended Reading series (every Wednesday) at her blog The Green Light District.

This wonderful post, Brainstorming, over at Sharazade's blog.  How would you handle being outed as an erotica writer? Assuming you did not necessarily want to be outed.

A lovely rant from Janine Ashbless; Family Matters. I just loved this:

"spends his whole screen time submitting patiently to the impossible demands of her ridiculous tribe of relatives, because he loves her sooo much ... and I just thought, 'Oh, for fuck's sake grow a pair.' "

How men's and women's sexuality is alike. Emily Nagoski ::sex nerd:: both alike in dignity.

Another wonderful rant. The Vegetarian Cannibal watches a film and wonders 'when did "bisexuality" become such a dirty word?' Puccini for beginners (Rant).

Okay, that's probably enough to keep ya busy the rest of the night.

On a cold winter's night

This curtain of icicles has been dissolved some by the sun over the past few days. But while it lasted it was beautiful. I don't have much to say here tonight. I've been writing, but that work has ended up at another blog. I interviewed a poet and reviewed (sorta) his new poetry book. 

I promise tomorrow I'll try to return to some naughtiness. 

Tangled thoughts

Yesterday I read a piece in the The New York Times online, that really has my mind in a tangle. I can't decide how I feel about it. So, I'm contemplating writing something about it, maybe a short essay, as a way to sort things out.

The thing is, I can't decide where to post it. Here? I don't think so. It's a controversial topic, and while I'm not trying to avoid that here, this just doesn't seem like the venue. 

And it seems to me that writing this will further blur any lines that I've attempted to use to delineate my various different writing activities. When I was younger, I always tried very hard to color inside the lines perfectly. Now I don't like lines. 

Is that the wisdom or the folly that comes with age?

Down to the wire

It's been a crazy day, and I was just about to shut down my computer when I realized that I hadn't done a blog post! Oh no! So, here's a real quickie.

And Then There Was String ~ Randy Lagana

sometimes we can't see the connections

what ties us together

holds us down or holds us up

voice or typed words

these are what I believe in

Shocked

Today, a poem I wrote, stories eat me, was posted by Shanna Germain at her blog. It's a "cut up" poem, based on some of the search terms that land folks on my blog, specifically, one certain post. That post was the one I did for the Blow Hard Tour 2009, on April 2 of that year. It was titled Today's Lesson: Swallow one's sword and other euphemisms for sucking cock.

Yes, I used that word, cock, in my poem. I used a lot of other words too. None of them were my words, but rather folks looking for things like "cock sucking lessons" that I combined to make a poem that I hope also makes a statement.

I posted a link to some folks. I got a comment from one person that they were "shocked." And I understand how they could be shocked. They are acquainted with me "in real life" and I guess I don't seem to be that kind of person. But then I wondered, why was my poem shocking?

Is it because I used words like cock, dick, and penis? Is it because of the sucking? I also used the phrase eat me. Innocent enough words separately, but together? Is it because I didn't use any of the euphemisms?

I've written a fair share of "erotic" poetry. Some of it is all metaphor. Some not at all. Some more graphic than others. Those were finalists at the 2010 Seattle Erotic Art Festival's Literary Art Showcase. By now most people know I write this kind of stuff, even my kids.

So, I'm pondering this.

In the past, I was hesitant. I did not use my real name. Now I do. In the future, I'll be writing more about how sex figures in this writing thing. I want to write about stuff I'm interested in. And, I happen to be interested in sex.

Earlier today I was reading this article from last year; When Women Write About  Their Sex Lives. Some folks think it never should be done. That "that" is private and should be left that way. There's a lot of slut-shaming that goes on.

I'm wondering how I'll react when, not if, someone tries to slut-shame me.

In actuality

I love serendipity. I was re-reading an archived article at The Atlantic, thinking I'd talk about that here at my blog (I still will, but another day). At the bottom of the page are random "More at the Atlantic" links to other features. One of the links was to Ways of Showing/Ways of Seeing, the second in a series of guest blog posts by Tony Comstock of Comstock Films fame.

In Ways of Seeing/Ways of Showing, he writes about Actualities, "simple, direct, filmed accounts of an action or activity: a dancer dancing, a bustling city street, etc."




His first guest blog post introduced what he is planning to writing about from now through February 13:

"Between now and then what I'd like to do is expand on the concept of Climax Ecology as it applies to explicit sexuality in cinema."

This sounds fascinating to me, and I will definitely be reading each installment this week.

UPDATE: Here's a link to a post that has links to all his guest blog posts there.

Outside the norm

Today is that superbowl-type day. I don't follow football at all. It's never interested me. I've never been to a superbowl party *, have never thrown one. Don't ever intend to.

I went to the grocery store to pick up some cat food, dish soap, and stuff for my son's lunches this week. The store wasn't very busy. The guy in front of me in line was too anxious to get going when the checker had to do a price check for the person in front of this guy. So he grabbed his stuff and walked quickly to another checkout. Just then the price was found. It would have been another 30 seconds for him to wait.

The world seems quiet. Not too many cars on the road. Even Facebook is quiet. My husband got home from a business trip this afternoon, but he's finishing up a book he's been reading. So I'm doing my daily post. Not quite knowing what to talk about.

I usually feel like an outsider. I pretty much have all my life. The quiet one. Sits in the back of the room. Wallflower. "Shy" could have been the word for my teenage years.

Now I'm in my fifties. And as time goes by, I realize that I'm not at all "normal," at least not according to what I've learned about society-in-general. I'm interested in stuff that I don't really have anyone to discuss it with on a regular basis. I want things that aren't on the approved list.

Sometimes it feels good, "empowering" even, to think of myself as inhabiting outside the box. But sometimes, often even, it's lonely.

And I don't know what to do with that. I have no power to change anyone, other than myself. But what if I don't want to change? What does that mean for my life going forward?

Don't know.

*Correction: My husband informs me that I did attend a Super Bowl party - about 20 years ago.  I only vaguely remember it - I did not watch any football.

Waiting for thoughts to form

Waiting by Randy Lagana

Today I posted a "Naughty Librarian" post over at We Who Are About To Die. A couple of the links there are to stuff that I just like; a post from Gina Marie and the Sex+Design site I linked to from here yesterday, as well as a couple of other links that I'll talk more about in a few days.

I also linked to a post by Alana Noel Voth that made me think. She mentioned Emerald's blog, and how she admired Em and "what a responsibility it is...to vocalize your opinions regarding sexuality in the face of a culture like ours: a mixed bag of prudes and perverts."

And I want to say something about that, but the thoughts aren't fully formed.

Despite blogging here for a couple of years as "Erobintica,"
despite becoming somewhat "known" for my erotic poetry (SEAF and doing my first out-of-state reading, which is on video and I hope to post it here soon),
despite baring my soul (and more) at F-Stop: The Naked I,
despite being the "Naughty Librarian" and getting noticed for that,
despite getting no negative feedback on my "erotica" activities from people I know (the closest has been some "surprise" from a few folks),
despite all that,

I'm still scared shitless to really speak my mind.

Why? I'm not quite sure. But I know that despite all the fear, I am going to speak. When the thoughts form.

Some wood, some links, some thoughts

Some wood.
Here are the haiku I came up with to go with the pictures I posted yesterday. From top to bottom (always good, hehehe):

eye to peckered hole
what lies beneath the tough skin
hint of dark bud there


moist as my cool skin
fleshy cream crenulations
gather on the wood


bulbous gathering
at base of the woody shaft
always erotic


this tree spirit rests
waits for sap to rise again
hope springs eternal


That was kind of cool. Reminded me of last year when I wrote a poem a day and posted them here.


Some links.
Today I read something that warmed my socked-in-by-snow-and-below-zero-temps soul. Gina Marie, who always has the most luscious photos at her Aphrodite's Table blog, had said that I inspire her. This is apparently the result. ha! I just typed reslut by mistake. 


I just stumbled upon this fascinating online magazine today. Sex + Design. According to their "About" page,

To us, the word “Sex” represents the debaucherous, messy, fun and impulsive side of life while “Design” stands for purpose, articulation, sophistication and beauty.

Awhile back, Jo sent a link to this Tumblr blog: Voluptua. I visit it every now and then. It's really quite exquisite.

Voluptuous woman, reclaiming the beauty in curves and softness. Many of the images here will feature nudity. Just so you know...

Some thoughts.
Something is happening right now. In my life. I feel like I'm traveling a road and there's all these road signs pointing the way I need to go. Things that I'd put off doing, and thought were lost causes, have come back around, and I'm excited. New opportunites.

I've found I can sink to the bottom, but will always float back to the surface, able to breathe. I can be tired, knowing I'll be able to rest. I will cry, but the tears will dry, and salt is good.

Use your dirty mind

Here's four pictures, nothing naughty about them. But between now and when I post again tomorrow, I'm going to try and come up with a naughty haiku for each. If you care to play along, please do.

Almost forgot

that I needed to do a blog post for today. Every day in February. That's my challenge to myself. But I have stuff on my mind, and I'm towards the end of the last of a trilogy - The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, and while I was resting my eyes, I remembered I needed to post something.

We're having an ice storm. Though it doesn't seem too bad, I imagine it's a mess out there. I'm tired of it. Winter that is. I feel chilled past my bones to my soul. I desperately need some warmth. So, since if I try to write anything here, it's likely to be morose, I'm going to post a little clip of my story "Wet As Spring." This was written almost twenty years ago. I may post it in full sometime soon.

*****

Here the ground was damp, the water table just below the surface. Her shoes sucked mud as she stepped into the clearing at the end. Sun-warmed insects filled the air. Long grass hid the soggy ground. She turned and followed what used to be a path to the stream, now overgrown. Brambles, grasses, and wild plants determined to take back the ground that only last summer had been torn and stripped by a bulldozer in search of marketable real estate. It was about impossible to actually get to the stream without risking thorns and snags. She opted to follow the bank a ways. She stepped gently, pushing aside a fern that was as tall as her waist. She came to a shaded bower formed by the entangled branches of a myrtle and a tanoak. In the shelter beneath the branches, clover clustered in the dapples of sun. She imagined deer bedding down here. She could hear the gushing of the stream, swollen with last week’s rain. She reached up and plucked a leaf from the myrtle and crushed it between her fingers to release the sharp, pungent scent. She wished her husband was with her. At the thought, a flush spread over her whole body. I’ll bring him here she thought.

They would walk down the road together, the sun warm and the breeze gentle. She would be wearing a loose dress, her bare legs stroked by the plants as she stepped through them. It would be as sunny and green a day as this…

He had been walking alongside her, now he let her lead. She ducked under the low branches of the myrtle and stood up in the bower. “Isn’t this wonderful?” In answer, he dropped his rucksack and slid his hands around her waist. Immediate tingles danced up and down her spine.. She put her pack down and reached for his beard, gently tugging in her direction until their lips met.

They kissed slowly, then broke apart and spread a quilt out on the ground. She lay down and looked up through the leaves, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Feeling his hand on her stomach, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. His hand ran to her throat, caressing her chin as he bent and kissed her, warm and deep. She sighed as his hand moved to her breast. Her nipple hardened under the fabric. She smiled as she was lost in sensation.

As sure as Spring will return

Moss peaking from snow last Spring

It's been a hard winter, and it's not over yet. Through the curtain of icicles outside my window, the sky is filled with falling snow. It's beautiful and depressing at the same time. It's been a record-breaking winter and I can feel it's weight.

Today and tomorrow I'll be housebound.

Today is February 1.

Today I start writing a blog post for every day this month. No excuses, no procrastination. I'm just going to do it.

I'm going to look at this as practice. Warming up. Getting the juices flowing. So I have no idea what I'll be writing about, but I will be writing. I'm also just going to include links to interesting stuff.

Today there is a lovely photo essay from Nikki Magennis on the too-long dormant F-Stop: Expose the Naked I blog.

An interesting article that I missed: The uses of erotic poetry. Thanks to Jacque Zyon for linking to this on his blog.

Beautiful pictures and inspiring words from Gina Marie.

So, I'm glad I decided to commit to writing here each day this month. I have various writing projects in the works (or in dreams), and I hope writing here will be the lubrication I need. ;)