I am tripping more than you are. Battling razzberries

[the mingo]

up to me i go with the spits but, then again, i'm the weirdest weirdo you ever gonna meet, girly girl ! & don't ya's go forgettin' it either !

HA !

[the mingo]

Yeah ! ( scratch scratch ) - did this yesterday forgot to post it ! Yeah !

[SadLuckDame]

We are gloomed together in the belly.
I'm happy to be travel-ling. If we're in there, and he's running around out in the woods, then you and I bee running around in the woods...even if it's too dark to see.

Thanks, my mingo bud, weirder than me.
neener neener

[SadLuckDame]

Apples and lozenges,
bananas for Thomas...
I'd want to give my INTP a few
of his favoritist things.

Patty and Martha,
a fruity Patricia
all wrapped up smug
in the periodicals
and comics.

When the sun dies
when the moon dopes
...just a few of his favorite things.

When the knot rubs
when it hugs his throat
...just a few of our favorite games.

[SadLuckDame]

Lollie Pop! She'd Not Barge On In

She wanted windows and small portrait paintings.
She wanted him to play imaginary friends. She wanted
and kept him guessing and guessing
at her lousy-loosed headed ghosts. Boo!

It's hers. It's his.
It's ours, never talk ours.

He said be sassy, be clean and more ready.
He wanted it all on French baked toast. He wanted, he wanted
to know that she spoke.

It's a spook's house, it's a torrential rain.
It's more ours than his to complain.

It's goblin, it's the battle
on Corridor Lane. It's skeleton bones.
It's more ours than hers' to parade.

[SadLuckDame]

I speak.
When my eye glints to sparkle
without my making it go to such conversations.

When my head turns to the side
and here this, I can keep hidden through the sash-of-lay from my hair
direction.

When the muscles in my mouth are more noticeable
than my trapeze of peoples taking up hockey in the rafters,
those ghosts.

When I go out to pick up the notes
off the side-walk by our big monster house and I don't tell you
I've them right here

like my lucky clover in the front pocket
and that I like when you speak.

[the mingo]

sometimes when i got no freak to speak
i sit around and bark just for the noise
but i would rather howl in truth than lay around low - wind is kickin' up some tonight - werewolves of london all roam in brain - shit, I don't even know a tailor. when you speak too well you're just so insane - that's me off the cuff tonight with my closet doors open - makes me wonder what i got in there - if it will come for me or stay put - to hell with it, I'm to ingest triskets & lorraine swiss cheese -

i love those things, i do the cookie monster on them - OM NOM NOM NOM NOM !
all gone and crumbs over the floor ...

ahhh ...
'Nite, Doll.

[SadLuckDame]

http://photography.nationalgeographic.c ... 8photo-pod

[the mingo]

For a moment I thought I was gonna see a catfish. Hey something's been bothering me about your door dream - when i asked you which door you entered the house in you said the "front" door. Is that different than the three doors you locked? It keeps coming up in my head like a crow doing a pass over. When this happens it usually means I have missed something obvious & it's probably important. Thx.
'Nite, Doll.

[SadLuckDame]

It was the same door I'd went in and locked it up as tight as possible, not even a raccoon could figure out those locks.

Hmm, catfish is long gone from me.
He's too far away now.

[the mingo]

ain't it just like that though? Things once close or even part of go away and leave a hole behind & what a space that hole is like a black hole star eternally collapsing in on itself and there you have it for the rest of your life. you can't even shoot the thing. or sell it. or give it away. or nothing.

hell yeah, Mongolia.

Thx on the dream doors...it keeps bothering me and i still don't know why... there is something in the trouble you had with locking the door to the present - how you had to have a strategic window to help you do that...you gave yourself a way to deal with the situation -

. . .

[SadLuckDame]

He has high standards and I'm too much the admitting mess, which breaks his idea of ideal women, sumpin' likes that.

The catfish might have been something other than catfish before, but then he decided he wanted to be a catfish. When he last talked to Polly, he told her, "Polly, girls don't live in ponds, they can't possibly live in a pond.
You're a girl, therefore you can't live here in this pond with me. You can walk around the pond, sit by it, dip your feet in, but you cannot and must not believe you can live in it. Whether you have a heart for me or not, doesn't matter cause I live in the pond. I don't want to live outside it, Catfish don't live outside of ponds. We just don't."

And that was last Polly heard from him.

[the mingo]

uhh ... so, does all that mean Polly is available for moonlight madness or maybe just perverse 'bout certain fish ?

'Nite, Doll

[SadLuckDame]

I don't knows about Polly anymore,
but I'd meet ya on a midnight rumble.

Mingo, did that guy from your prayer list get found?
I woke up worried about him cause it was cold out this morning.
Also, on the side to note...I need to catch up and reply to you on a few of your other mentionings. I'm falling behind here on the doses.

Good morning, you.

[the mingo]

I didn't get up 'til almost noon. I hope the shutdown at work wraps up soon because my routine is totally f**k*d up. No word yet on the missing man. The state police have conducted a heavy duty aerial search the past two days & they have had the dogs out again. Nothing. The county sheriff's office gave out the word today that they are not suspecting any kind of criminal activity they just would like to find him. They know he's hurt but they can't say how they know that or what the injury might be because of privacy laws. Lot of people here have lots of ideas, most of them scoffing because they think he's stashed himself with someone somewhere and scared shitless about all the trouble he's in - 'tween you & me I think he got himself in a bad jam & some hunter or hiker will find remains next spring - a shoe or bone or hat or skull, like that...coyotes don't leave much at a scavenge site and they can drag whatever they can take off for miles before they stop to get down to business. It bothers me though that the K-9 search teams found no trace to work with... a dog's nose don't miss... but nothing. So, that's where it's at for now.
So I'm gonna go drink about a gallon of coffee and think about all the amazing people I know. Catch ya later, Annie B.