The Incubus Woodstock

Halloween came and went, and this is what I looked like this year:

Allow me to explain a few things about this costume and answer questions that I'm sure you have. The first, and most obvious question, what the heck am I? Good question, and to answer it I will tell you how I came up with this creation. I do the same thing every year: I go to all the local thrift stores and explore every nook and cranny for odd assortments of interesting clothes and accessories. As the day progresses and I accumulate material, a vision formulates in my head as to what my costume will look like. This outfit came together rather quickly. It only took two thrift stores and about 3 hours to put this thing together. Fantastic! Now, what am I? Of all the people in my life I have only one friend who, instead of asking me what I am, instantly decided to name me. She called me The Incubus Woodstock. And I love it! Thanks, Brit, I adore your creative mind ;)

And for those of you interested in some of my creations from past Halloweens, I will indulge your curiosity:

 Okay, moving on... I experienced a momentary spell of writer's block there for awhile. It had to do with personal things happening in my life, which I won't go into detail, but I will say this: I've learned that the poems and stories and blogs I write are sort of like my children. I create them, I care about them, and I'm protective of them. There is no worse feeling than sitting in front of my laptop staring at a blank screen and a blinking prompt, waiting for the words to come and they never do. Night after night, blank screens and dissolving dreams. It was getting to the point where I thought maybe I had ridden this literary horse as far into battle as I possibly could, and that it was now time to fall on my own sword. But no, the writer's block has lifted and my current gift to you, dear readers, is yesterday's raunchy story and today's Saturday Song Salute:

Today I salute the band, The National, for their song Slow Show. I'm not sure exactly what to say about this one. The somber sound of the tune appeals to me greatly and the lyrics remind me of the odd thoughts I often give to many of my characters when I write. It's a strange dichotomy between incoherent ramblings and ideas that make perfect sense. I just love this song, give it a listen:

Slow Show

Standing at the punch table swallowing punch
Can't pay attention to the sound of anyone
A little more stupid, a little more scared
Every minute more unprepared

I made a mistake in my life today
Everything I love gets lost in drawers
I want to start over, I want to be winning
Way out of sync from the beginning

I wanna hurry home to you
Put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up
So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
God, I'm very, very frightening, I'll overdo it

Looking for somewhere to stand and stay
I leaned on the wall and the wall leaned away
Can I get a minute of not being nervous
And not thinking of my dick?

My leg is sparkles, my leg is pins
I better get my shit together, better gather my shit in
You could drive a car through my head in five minutes
From one side of it to the other

I wanna hurry home to you
Put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up
So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
God I'm very, very frightening, I'll overdo it

You know I dreamed about you
For 29 years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for, for 29 years

You know I dreamed about you
For 29 years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for, for 29 years