when the ink dries, my words become futile—heaps of musky sheets, dry jasmine on her navel; her crescent shade lulls temple bells, beyond the pine grove, lush grass looms, she lies down beside me, time spent ruminating; navigate through thousand generations, the quiet bathtub nostalgia stays, i stay in longer, rings of saturn, she comes back with feverish passion, multitude of dim stars; she studies my hands, labels them her home, and says, “clouds float between us—only briefly.”


Did Teresita Basa solve her own murder? Born in the Philippines in 1929, Teresita moved to Chicago, Illinois, where she became a respiratory therapist at Edgewater Hospital. She was known to be a very reserved woman. On a crisp cold evening in 1977, the shrill sound of a fire engine could be heard speeding towards an apartment in N. Pine Grove Avenue.

As they extinguished a fire in 15B, they were more than horrified to find a body hidden under a mattress. They were even more aghast to discover that the body was nude with a butcher knife in the middle of her chest. The body was that of Teresita Basa. After a couple of months, the case went cold. That was until lead detective, Joe Stachula, found a note on his desk telling him to call the Evanston Police Department. When he called, he was told a bizarre story about a Dr. Jose Chua. Jose had told police that his wife, Remy Chua, was possessed by Teresita Basa.

He explained that his wife would go into a comatose state and would claim to be Basa. While this story sounds absolutely ridiculous, Mr. Chua soon became intrigued when his wife blurted out what she claimed was the name of Basa’s killer - Allan Showery. She told her husband that Showery had also stolen jewellery from Basa’s apartment. Police decided they would investigate these claims, even though they assumed it was just fabrication. Lo and behold, it just so turned out that a man called Allan Showery worked with Basa.

Police called Showery in to question him and after catching him in a number of lies, he confessed that it was true - he had murdered Teresita Basa. When police went to search his home, they discovered a number of pieces of jewellery that had been stolen from Basa’s apartment. After pleading guilty, Showery was sentenced to fourteen years for murder and four years for arson and robbery. However, he was released in 1983 after serving less than five years.


I am back from Itasca State Park: unfortunately, I did not get lost. Here’s the first batch of photos. 

 Getting a little better at plein air painting? Which almost makes up for me not making it onto a couple of the trails I had been curious about! (Did finally take a canoe out onto the lake, so that’s a Minnesota milestone accomplished. Bonus: I didn’t fall into the lake, either!) 

 For those curious, I am adding captions to each photo. (Trail name, etc.) If I can get through the rest of the photos, I will post more!

I feel like I could forget about it
I feel like I could mellow out
I don’t feel undone in a big way
There’s nothing really bad to be upset about

But when I thought I was getting better
I woke up on the ground
An appointment or disappointment
I set back, oh, another comedown

Made with SoundCloud

If you’ve never heard of Alexander von Humboldt, a once world-renowned Prussian scientist who predicted man-made climate change in 1800 and was an adviser to President Thomas Jefferson, then a New Hampshire distillery is aiming to change that, one glass at a time.

“One of the things that really struck a chord with us was that Humboldt was fascinated by nature, and we’re fascinated by it, too,” says Jamie Oakes of Tamworth Distilling. “We’ll take a walk through a sunny pine grove and then try to figure out how we can distill those smells in liquid form.”

From Film Stars To Naturalists, These Lives Have Become Boozy Inspirations

Photo: Courtesy of Tamworth Distilling, Samuel Adams and The Macallan
Caption: From left, Von Humbolt’s Natur wasser, named after the German explorer and naturalist; Blood & Sand, inspired by silent movie star Rudolph Valentino; and a single malt by Macallan in collaboration with artist Steven Klein.

from the mouth of foxglove
the silent
holy        blue of everything

pooling & rushing

with the pine grove &
its drifting verbs of hazel

(your life appears to you in a
gleaming of Delphic day)                 
I, witness of red and venom,
spill over with the evening

all animal body & old gloom

the vague
yellow stain of summer

staring dead-eyed into all
sorts of nothingness

but love,
but love,

I descend again
into the hands of my master

everywhere my true meaning

while dawn slips into summer’s
river with seaserpent eyes

the blue
the blue
the vespery blue

all falls in place by the hawthorn
& the ever-holding of holy breath
fragments of red reveal weather,
& the ancient earthen wound 

let us pass onward,
not venturing where phantoms are

Request from anon: Hi. Can I plse ask for a prompt? You and Jack are staying in a log cabin in the Scottish countryside where you and Jack take walks holding hands and you’re cuddling into him when he wears fleeces. As fluffy and/or smutty as you like. Thanks 💛

As you pulled up to the little log cabin in the highlands of Glencoe, you couldn’t help the awed gasp that escaped your mouth. The whole drive from Jack’s hometown of Oxton to the West-coast village had been stunning, passing through historic towns and magnificent landscapes, but the little wooden cabin situated on the top of a hill, surrounded by a grove of trees, simply took your breath away.

“Oh Jack, it’s gorgeous,” you marvelled.

A satisfied grin spread across his face as he agreed, “Aye, it’s quite the view”. The monticule looked out over the valley, paved in tress of emerald, orange and gold. It was the height of autumn, and the natural word was in the process of metamorphosis, and your little spot of paradise was situated right at the centre, in the eye of the storm, and he whirlwind of autumn blazed around you. The river raced over stones and pebbles, foaming in its haste, and laced the grey-blue water with white eyelashes. It was spectacular.

“No’ a bad way to spend yer anniversary, eh?”

“No,” you smiled, leaning onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Not bad at all.”

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