Category Archives: CREATIVE INSPIRATION
I am daisy
Daughter of Rose
Who needs love, loyalty, laughter
Who loves music, silence, decadence
Who sees lonely people, people better off, empty glasses once full of hope
Who hates curves on herself, being misunderstood, bad odour
Who fears abandonment, rejection, gossips too
Who dreams of career growth, success, beauty to blossom from within
Who has found forgotten poems, memory gaps, words unable to recognise as her own
Resident of no fixed abode
My cow bells are a little bit off par
My serenade seemingly won’t separate the stars
Trees won’t surround my natural state of being.
Everything I feel
My inner sight.
I’m meant to be singing a stream of consciousness of my inner plight
To gloat I’m on another planet.
If only I knew how to consistently cope
In this moment
In this dimension
I might have a bit of hope.
A full fleshed 3 D character would awash with the flostam
Starting from the Knee deep creeping up to reveal my fragile throat.
I’m you, man.
You are me, men and women.
We’re all floating in the same boat.
In water we still get soaked.
A place we try to fathom
stake as our own.
If not to deem ours authentically
Then atleast to titillate to titivate
With a decorum of sensuality
- an experimental piece I wrote inspired by the existential Japanese philosophy- Wabisabi
Does it need to be said
Because the Media makes you think your make up is inappropriate?
If you are horrified to ask Google for mental health support
You know I’m hear to tell it — (once )’for a cause not for an applause’
To avoid the pariah of your mind.
Who you are is important for your wellbeing
Beautiful you are because of your malaise.
Its about what you think.
A unique template for peace of mind.
Alone-thoughts are you,
And yours together.
Others’ opinions must dance alone with their shadows.
Fathoming the world is relative to your state
Diagrams and graphic diagnostics aren’t “normal”!
Merely for inferences and academic utterances.
Your Beauty is personified by playful events racing around your head.
Love it like you love…
Those who have numbers and words yet can’t calculate when there’s enough unsaid.
Needs are experiences.
Feelings are needs…
Interpret the world through the vessel of your spirited Self.
When skies hang drab
Do you dazzle because you can see a scattered horizon of hope — as a possibility ?
When the Others tether connections
Tumble into an abyss —
Can you see their limits ?
Allow them to be.
Is your world subject to scrutiny because of how you interpret human nature?
Do you deviate from society’s accusations of what is the trending status quo?
What if the box you live in is… outside?
What if you build a bridge
Bearing a cross
Over to acceptable taboos ?
Breath prescribed by an arched smile.
Diagnose yourself Beautiful- because of your laments.
Before time becomes an absolute Obsession
Forecasting the outcome to the finale to the play of ‘This is your Life’.
Take moments to repose.
Free yourself from the expectation
To be your career
To win over the Marvel comic genderless hero.
Deprecate your expectations to finance your inner Happiness resources.
This entity is inside your realm of Consciousness — restless
Trodden and stamped into a standing pose.
Moments of reflection pace
Forwards then backwards
Are you what you want to be?
Can you begin a journey if you don’t understand where you are at?
Certainly living up to some other lifer’s calculation should
Pause your being into a statuesque introspection.
To dismiss your guttural instincts will unravel you at the seams— out-thread you out of your very own mind.
Success comes from mapping out your own directions.
Hopeful-to wake up to another day of understanding ‘This is your Life’.
Your ability to comprehend, foreshadows your failed attempts to claw out of the darkest pit.
Sounds of the ocean lap to your melody.
Nothing that you feel about Today
Can conceive the trembling murmurs cut off from the guillotine of your Sanity.
In all of your figurements…are you determined to act out your suicides because you fear your inability to state your arousel ?
Who you are
Is that wrong?
Thoughts pre empt if everything is filled in with Leftism.
Dismiss you have the good view
Change your world
Refuse every thing
That threatens your Passions —
That provokes beta beatings whistling out of tune.
Precious notions find a sense of disambiguation before the matter resolves itself.
Do you tell others to respond to what you fail to question?
Where is the perversity in watching the death of your inner Flinch — to conclude this delusion ?
What if you won’t be the canvas that contains an abstract spectrum fading you out of very own Self ?
Look on at those who shrink into their frames bled of every shade of hues
Is this what you want?
Collect your RANDOM WORD HERE
Makes this tale mangy from substance abuse.
It rips at the soul-
Makes censorship an ideal way to protect society
from the ugly truth.
Covering up their tracks.
makes for an abode
Senses summoned in to serve
a genre of the common trap.
Crazy contravenes with inner child’s freshly painted creche.
Isn’t as mighty
Paired up with a jogger,
a fit bit,
When did time get so slow?
Armour of organs in free harmonic flow.
It is wise to know.
beat sets up another trap for
The inner mouse.
it will come out.
Big Ben caught in the designated zepherous zone.
Failed to save uncapped pressure
Builds up into a deafening detonation.
The inner logic was damage limitation.
The government ordered trench coats
In full sight.
pollution seeps out from a piercing moan.
Bridal mess Sleuths about
Track tips far too early.
Hands cover sight.
Mind convinced its temporary.
It’s all right.
Habits washed in deficient light
The decision fully saddled.
The course is hardened terrain
Rumours rustle barren branches
summer shamed of its remaining leaves.
Point fingers in one direction.
Signpost makes a statement!
The border of Insanity.
the cartwheels-the body released from tension
Moment of clarity
woe, for the gifted
thorn scented roses
Stoney carves out
The centurion tone.
Inflicts an incident.
Arithmetic arrests Maroon’s motion.
Apprehended by fear.
Not one morsel intervenes.
Iris catches sight
A distasteful Discovery.
burnt the ceremonial toast.
A legitimate excuse
eyes wide open
Yes, I am still plowing my way through year one of my Masters.
Woop! Running around like a yam shouting May day May day!
That is the month, Year one will be over and done with.
Aren’t you enjoying yourself, Daisy?
I enjoy myself when I see results! Deadlines keep my pressure up and my heart racing.
My next deadline is 2nd of Feb!
I started off with what could potentially turn into a novella with a heavily dense, plotted story about a woman with DID and an Alter ego that wants revenge on a past attack.
All super fab and exciting to research and write but I only have 2000 words I’m allowed to write give or take 10%
I was then inspired by this quote:
JUST KIDDING! IT WAS ACTUALLY THIS ONE.
I spent 12 hours drafting a whole new story about a woman trying to come to turns with an affair/ obsession/fantasy she has (in a group therapy setting). Plenty of surrealness.
Then Christmas happened – Alan Kaprow -‘ it’s a happening baby!’
Not my kind of happening, however, I will admit I enjoyed spending time with my family and friends.
There is a lot in the media – specifically social media about suicide prevention and keeping us humans safe, with telephone numbers to sign post us to organizations who may help if we are having a shitty time.
I think this is fantastic!
It also prompted me to put story two on the back burner and delve into my current draft which is some kind of supernatural -esque piece. I feel I can plot (without unwittingly out plotting myself or my character/s)
There is a lot of internal conflicts which contrasts with the Main characters environment/ the other characters in the piece.
It’s ahem.. fucking depressing to write.
Today, I had to stop twice for a break, it was that emotionally draining to finish the second draft.
It ends in death and a resolution that is reflective, real and tragic.
This is all just my opinion, of course – ha ha!
I’m currently taking advice off of my own Mummy -dearest!
inject the piece with humor, darling. Be witty. You’re a hoot in real life.
People laugh at me not with me. The people who know me really well and see the real me- sometimes do laugh me with me.
I have got a twisted, dark sense of humor and well, let’s hope I can convey it so it translates to the reader marking it. Must work on being funnier. I can do funny in real life
Yes, I’m still going for my first TMA to be reassessed.
OH MY WORDY HAT!
Then, I have the constant worry of my third TMA – another 18-minute play.
I’m exploring doing a piece on a couple who decide to have a baby or try to and maybe the mother can’t make up her mind whether she wants the child or not.
Does she lose the baby?
Does she have an issue with boys?
Does she only want a girl?
What does this bloody woman want?
I’m good at putting in obstacles in the way and creating tension – I put my characters through hell.
Oh, and then we have the final piece due at the end of May.
DareI state, I’m continuing with the second part (or act if you like) of my homelessness couple piece, I started in TMA 1.
I’m swotting up on Brecht, Stanislavsky, Meyerhold, Grotowski, Artaud etc…
Here’s a question: All these (and more) playwrights of the 19/20th century inspired and evolved theater into what we have today.
Immersive theater/street theater/ forum theatre=- the list goes on and on.
These playwrights wrote about and performed plays that reflected the historical time that they lived in.
Why if I say in my commentary that I’m inspired by certain Brechtian techniques? does that automatically translate that I am doing a complete copy cat Brechtian play?
Don’t many successful modern/contemporary playwrights of our time take a bit from different (even contrasting theories about theater) at times, to make something that is relevant to what they want to see performed?
SMALL rant- 😉
Can’t I be inspired by say; Brecht and his ‘estrangement’ techniques and ‘Gestus’ (without using it to the extremes he employed his techniques in his era?
He essentially hated the overly dramatic French and the German style theatre in his time. He lived in one of the most insane times- the communist era, wars, exile etc..
Of course ( because I know what he was thinking -sarcasm alert), he wanted the audience or just one audience member to go home and think a bit more about what they went to watch.
Perhaps, Brecht wanted witnesses 😀 to get the cogwheels turning with questions like
Does it have to end like this?
Did it have to end like this? (in a historical context)
What can I do as a person who has just gone to see a play themed around social issues?
Maybe an audience member/s could come to a conclusion (or not) that maybe their previous ideas (if any) about social change issues comes from within.
Not a government, not other people but from me, you?
Politics are heavy going so a play/ production does need to be entertaining – it’s a tricky pair up to get right.
Sometimes, a member of the audience may (or may not) think:
‘What I am seeing here can’t be a representation of a real person or what goes on in real life -or can it?
That is cool – they are in a theater watching something made up essentially, no?
I don’t know anymore. I’m up to my ears in theories and being creative and trying to stay true to myself and my reasons for writing.
I do have enough sense to think about doing a full on Brecht/Grotowski/insert playwrights name here to show I can do it.
I may struggle- it might not be amazing or great but I can bloody well do it.
My stubbornness does serve me well at times.
Right, rant over.
Tomorrow, I get a small break from thinking about fictional characters. I’m off bright and early to talk about if/how I can help my community with the skills I already have. I don’t need to be a BA graduate or a business owner or a mother or someone studying their Masters.
I merely have to be me! Full of flaws!
I feel so passionate about this project. I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it. I can’t talk about it- It would have to go in my volunteering page- Ha ha!
Please send me your positive vibes, mantras, empowering thoughts – all of that positivity shit. I fucking love it!
I need it – it helps me – it keeps me on the right path.
So, to end this ranty and rather a profane post
I will end in my mantra ( Second year of using it and it hasn’t let me down yet)
” I am successful at whatever I do”
I put the hard graft in too.
Thanks for reading my ranty post.
Peace, love, light and a bit of attitude embellished with hearts ❤ and fleurs.
I’ve had a few ( of you ) Bloggers ask me to keep you updated with how my MA is going in Creative Writing.
One TMA (tutor marked assignment) emailed and submitted to the Open University .
Now I await the results.
I ended up doing 10 re-drafts!
My commentary had to focus on the creation process.
This is what I had to say – 500 words – this was the maximum word count we were allowed to write on 8 weeks of study, writing and personal research.
I won’t post the entire first 20 pages of my script ‘URBAN JUNGLE’
I will put down what I wrote in my commentary.
TMA 1- COMMENTARY – THE CREATIVE PROCESS
My passion in script writing lies in writing about themes, which affect society-politically. I want to raise awareness of this theme retaining social realism without it becoming an Agit -prop piece. I used more naturalistic theatre devices to engage an audience by appealing to emotions.
An audience needs to feel empathy. I expanded the piece into a love story, with the centralized characters having obstacles and goals that were not solely restricted by their homeless situation, but because of their own personality traits and motives. An example is Desire is naturally a caring and ambitious person. Leo is charming, has addiction issues and is more of an idealist.
Aspects of dramatic methods, which appeal to me, is the visual narration of the play. I use Brecht-like devices such as projectors, audio, light to govern the mood and reveal the story. I used episodic scenes to illustrate Desires flashbacks to when she lived at home. This doubles as an exposition tool to reveal backstory and create a sense of the inner and emotional conflict Desire is going through –personally and within the larger themes of the play.
I deliberately did not use many stage directions because I visualise this piece performed in an immersive theatre environment.
When I have performed in plays in this format as actor – the blocking scenes are the directors and actors job.
Tools that have helped me develop this script has been using a writer’s journal. The conception for this play came about when I was walking my local town, I walked past someone who looked homeless, was begging and he was texting on his mobile phone. My initial judgement was ‘how can a homeless person afford a mobile phone?’
This led me to reflect on my judgments and explore the true homeless crisis issue in our society.
Other obstacles I found challenging was plotting scenes. I use the flash back device, which resulted in the opening scene. I took the approach of David Mamet ‘get in the scene late, get out early’ (Neale D, A creative writing handbook-developing dramatic technique, individual style and voice pg. 87). I am receptive to advice given by Forum members about the plausibility of characters illnesses and researched this (please see bibliography) and amended character details in the Cast list. My characters and their lives required thorough research and aided me in realizing my characters.
I researched extensively on homeless teens, young carers, Herbie, and Marjorie’s disabilities (please refer to Bibliography, secondary resources)
This is a continuing piece, which I intend to develop further for my EMA. I decided an effective way to end the TMA was by adding an obligatory scene-usually used at the end of a play. (Polsky M., You can write a play, pg. 83) The mini obligatory scene in the library to end scene two, is a contrast in the environment and to the centralised characters situation. I found using the Librarian role character an effective way to create a dramatic clock, to conclude the end of the scene.
WORD COUNT 506
By Natasha Sonia Bodley ( Holliday)
10 days until I get my results.
WRITERS REMEDY TO EVERYTHING!
Onto the next block – Part one of this TMA is to write a short fiction piece of 2000 words
Anybody know if Flash fiction can be 2ooo words ?
Does anyone have any ideas on a style of short story fiction I can concentrate on?
Has to be 2000 words (give or take 10% more or less.)
Mini LIFE UPPDATE : NEW TATTOOS
Catch up soon!
❤ ❤ ❤
Signs of life cautiously peek around the jagged wall. Gently calling out that it is okay to be vulnerable and strong.
Look up, oh naked child of zombies heaven. Trust in the pureness of dressing yourself like the day you took your first breath – inhaled oxygen and exhaled carbon dioxide.
Life and death are intimately connected.
So fearful of life.
Fear not to stand up and let your breasts fall beyond the pencil rule of if you need to wear a corset or bra. 😀
Remember ,death is unknown – it is a forgotten memory – another state of consciousness.
Believe in standing – blemished , untouched, unpolished , un- cropped.
Believe that your natural skin color is right. Whatever color it is . It is yours and it covers you so well. Protects you from elements like sticks and stones and winds and snow.
Hair – leave the three hairs on your toe. Men do. It’s winter – allow yourself to be comforted by your own body and warmth .
You are a miracle. Don’t look away – you give a lot away .
Don’t regret what you give.
Don’t regret what you feel .
It is by being naked and bare that you are able to connect with everyone you meet- – every crack in the wall is a sign that you have fought to reach out and make yourself complete.
You embraced the air- you fought to feel – you fought to care.
This prison is in your mind. Don’t fear to blossom, sweet soul. Don’t cover your mouth. Smile and laugh – you captivate the world with your unique laugh and you give other people a chance to respond and feel bold.
Rings can’t bind you, in truth , the earth is probably flat.
Your arm symbolizes a crane – you are the hope that can only be the change.
embrace every fear.
Say yes to everything you feel will move your forward- will cut the strings of setting you loose from the puppeteers, brainwashed in stagnant gestation.
Walk silly, bounce -be flat footed . We all walk in our own peculiar way.
Don’t hide – don’t hold your breath – you deserve every single breath.
Your heart is your greatest ally – your mind is brilliant – allow it to think – allow your thoughts to come out in speech bubbles .
Be a comic, a novel, a flash piece of fiction, a stream of consciousness – don’t hide that captivating mind.
Your tears have kept me alive- nourish yourself – replenish your needs too.
Drink and rehydrate.
Eat and don’t allow barbed thoughts to intrude on your time to re-energize.
Time won’t stop. You know it only moves on with or without you. So look up and look at me. See your reflection and see your soul is pure -forget about what has been.
Own every line, every dent, every scar on your body- that is your own personal narrative and don’t be ashamed – it is what makes up your flesh – you are not a character you are a fully fleshed-out person.
You wounds are your path, your trail, your journey. Create much more if you want – but be gentle.
If only you would look up so I could see the colour of your eyes. If only you would smile – would it reach up to meet your eyes?
* Today’s stream of consciousness was inspired by LINDA G’s word prompt ‘YES’ and a random image that I googled of someone’s work I admire. Thank you, CAKE for always inspiring me and pointing me to Art that I connect with.
I believe,to create something different we have to do something different.
Have a have fab weekend.
You have a voice and a mind and a heart – use it. Don’t let others intimidate you. Be free.
XOXO ❤ ❤
Not all men can handle a strong woman.
A lot of them tend to make us feel like we are weak,wrong , crazy even with our impulse feelings to rule and to be dominated.
They would happily send us to a place to be Abominated.
Not all men can dominate a strong woman
It takes a real man – with a front and backbone – one that he uses .
One that he knows how to use and simply won’t take her refusals.
A firm hand – pressed against her delicate neck bone – wind pipe-disarmed . A Struggle to breathe.
Shock – Fight or flee.
Stay and put up with it – two stubborn souls connect – who is going to win?
She could fight you, she will put up a good bluff .
Poker face. Stoke his fury – Flush her out – until she is red in the face .
Hair fanned out in a perfect pose,astrologically aligned with her sin.
She knows when to stop him. She pushes back his arm.
Will he get the message or will he continue with the power trip and go one and on ?
The moment of truth is in his bare hands.
Her life, her breathe is his – she is at his wildest demands.
He won’t take no for answer – she won’t refuse his frustration.
She would rather end up black and blue
Thumbed, printed ,read all over- front to back.
than pass on her pain,
Her 6 red eyed ,three-headed Cerebus demon.
Dizzy disparate desperation.
She won’t see that reflection – not one drop will trickle from his eye the mirror that she sees is, in fact, her depiction.
She is his keeper – She owes him his salvation.
Till death do us part.
Charon take your ferry – set back sail on the river Styx . She casts the ferryman back to eternal damnation.
Lust , love , it’s all a part of the combined heady scent and the sweat .
gender – Sexual Agenda – together, forever in each others debt.
A pounding heart. She suddenly gasps.
does she fight for one last caress?
Love is complicated. So is she.
He is her man.
Her king and she will let him be.
Euphoria – deuphoria – her hands tremble – she is shaking.
Pins and needles – no voodoo.
True Magic, is two people madly in love.
two hearts – hers stopped beating so he took out his own – ripped it from his chest – tore it in half and gave her one part.
She doesn’t need a rib.
She needs a beat – a rhythm.
A Civil rights movement protest.
bloody driven from her comfort- safety zone.
This time, when she makes a noise it won’t be a solemn, repressed moan.
Jolted into believing.
Stained sheets. She is done with teasing.
She is the Queen of his heart.
Same time tomorrow – so they can resume their riske business meeting.
* Inspired by watching Once upon a time*
Longer post than usual
A song to get you through it. 😀
Where do I begin?
Right here, I suppose….
I never want to share my darkness with the blogging community. Well, what I mean is – I try to objectify my emotions when I write.
Turn it into ART!
Sometimes being creative just means no great ART display or flow of words but creativity means getting whatever is in my head and out of it.
I want to be heard. I am not invincible.
There is part of me that wishes I had one of those wind-up devices in me that didn’t just make me move, but makes me feel- the opposite to what I feel now .
That is not how this Blog began.
It began as a way to write what I wanted to put down and I have done that.
Lately, I’ve lost a certain joy in Blogging because I have been feeling ashamed.
I am trying my hardest to be everyone and everything.
‘I’m the success. I am making my life a success.’
That kind of mentality.
I get in such a blue funk when I read certain posts- that it brings me down in my mood to the point, I can’t bear to read some posts.
It is because I am in this nebulous place – no soft carpet on the bottom of the pit, my ass is numb, I can’t get comfortable.
I can’t seem to get out.
I put on my many masks.
I am looking at them now- I count 10 . Some look more exotic than the others.
Think, Charleston Carnival Madness!
I’m not feeling festive or even wanting to consume anything that could make me feel spirited.
The ones that truly know me – are four people to be exact.
See , the true darkness won’t let me smile ( look what I did!).
It spits phlegm globules of doubts -splashes flecks of browns and greens across my eyes, my nose , my mouth.
That obnoxious bus was never going to slow down. It saw me and changed gear and pushed harder on the accelerate peddle just because it could.
If I undress and leave all my clothes in a heap will anyone notice?
Will I actually be jolted into caring?
It won’t let me – Let go.
My name is not Elsa or princess ‘whatever’- I can’t magic giant moving snowmen to show you the reason I am like this is because I may belong in a……..
I just don’t want anybody touching my body and doing an autopsy.
In case I am still alive . That would be horrific, to say the least.
I hate writing stuff like this.
I want to be a ray of sunshine.
I want people to feel uplifted and energised around me.
I never ever want to knuckle drag anyone down to this point where your ass feels numb and well…
Dark ages Alert.
So I hide the extent of just how Stormy my mind has become. Why hide how wan I feel inside?
Dead,Afraid, guilty even.
I can’t even let go of a past person -why?
I want to open a present from my past.
I don’t want to receive my present – from this-this moment.
Because that person doesn’t want me for whatever reason.
Married, friendship . I don’t know.
I hate not knowing.
I loathe feeling like I have given up control to someone.
I look around me – I have an enchanting, little family around me.
People love me and people want me to flex my muscles and win the trophy.
I am doing it.
Fear or no Fear.
My heart has clumsily absorbed much blood.
This blood has formed congealed clots. They nestle around my beating heart.
Become complacent – they don’t want to move.
How can a heart harden yet weep at the same time?
I don’t give up. I damn well feel like it.
Call it the stubborn part of me.
It serves me well in some cases.
I’ve decided what I am going to write about for my MA — well, the first part of it.
A script about a wife and husband dealing with the wife’s infidelity. There is a twist. It’s all in her mind. She is obsessed. A stalker of sorts. The husband knows. Why does he play along? She is ill. her mental health is not great.
I want whoever grades it to go:
‘Blimey/ fuck/ by Jove!/ Oh my hat!/’ or whatever the fuck expression they use when they are impressed and go ‘ I didn’t see that coming.’
The next 18 months is me putting in a lot of graft.
This anxiety corset grabs at me -gathers me – pulls me into a panic attack. I want to breathe – but I have to keep hold of my form.
I am in armour – uniform.
To be formless is to be Ovid’s chaos- on the first page of his ‘Metamorphoses’.
The thing is if I don’t share some of my weight bearers, then, I wonder what is the point of writing my blog at all.
It is just like in the real world – if someone can’t accept me for me at my worst -why should they only be allowed to see me at my best?
There is a person who ticked the box:
I am not a robot.
Me: typing these words.
I have body parts. So many emotions…..
I want to always write something that will blow peoples minds away .
We are all different and what may blow one mind may not even touch another.
So this is me waffling in type. Always stream of consciousness.
Don’t feel like rhyming or using fancy words.
I just want to feel authentic.
I want my spark back. I’m going to be a bad Prometheus and get me some fire!
I have an idea – find a joke!
How bout this one?
The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it’s still on the list.
Some people say “If you can’t beat them, join them”. I say “If you can’t beat them, beat them”, because they will be expecting you to join them, so you will have the element of surprise.
Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won’t expect it back.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
Whenever I fill out an application, in the part that says “If an emergency, notify:” I put “DOCTOR”. What’s my mother going to do?
. “To the man on crutches, dressed in camouflage, who stole my wallet … you can hide but you can’t run.”
Google – is shit for jokes or am I really that down -I can’t see the humour in these jokes to really make me LAFF OUT LOUD!
Anyone know any good jokes?
On a lighter note, I am alive and I have not been looking at grave sites.
I know how to swim!
I have to admit something. Jim helped me realize it.
‘People are strange’
It has taken me so long to realize it. I have been following you.
There I said it.
( cliched tumbleweeds)
People should be fucking terrified but in this world,when someone follows you these days – they are not a creepy stalker but an admirer.
True from a distance but still a fucking stalker- take the violins, roses, and the Spanish guitar player away. What have you got?
We have become a nation of stalkers.
We are cool with every soul or blogger or social media entity knowing intimate details of our lives.
How am I supposed to explain the whole ‘DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS’ thing to my daughter?
I do it every day.
Of course, you are all my friends. I wouldn’t keep you in a cage if we weren’t friends. 😀
Shit just got complicated.
On a different note.
I got a tag.
Oh yeah –
If you were born with a super power tag .
It’s fun, not serious, silly
. Just the right jiggle jaggle to fit in with my mind state.
My girl – ( ghetto lingo never gets old) 😉 E. – obviously she is flapping fantastic.
We have connected . We stalk one another – un ashamedly and we don’t need to see one another’s private bits to know – we are real.
Don’t be a stranger – be a stalker – go and follow my superheroine,mate – EDDAZ. She can heal the world.
Name the the creator of this tag . FarahEdz @ The Girl With Coffee
Use the Tag image above
Thank your superhero Nominator -( me) or in my case @ EDDAZ -Love & Relationships, Lifestyle, Poetry
which or what super power would you would want and why.
Please note that you are not under any obligation to participate. I think it’s fun.
. The chances of this super power manifesting in your life decreases if you do not accept ( Daisy -me – added that bit)