odd chick's Page

A hayfield was ready to cut so I jumped in my bright yellow Caterpillar cutter with its air-ride seat and began to mow over the beautiful Windsor green canopy of alfalfa that grows so thick the ground is no longer visible. The red-tail hawks soon joined me, along with the bald buzzards and large crows that followed my machine like seagulls following a a chartered fishing boat. It's Sunday, and it won't be a day of rest for me or traditional church, but I enjoy the blue sky as my painted Sistine… Continue

He climbed on to her back and took a firm hold.

She hardly knew when he began sucking the life blood from her as he was adept in this symbiotic relationship and could make his small incision as precisely as a skilled surgeon. She would find him now and then, and in her searching, run her tongue over the smooth contours of his body, and she liked that better than she hated the wound.

When her mother called she would ask about her parasite and the girl would always say that he was doing "his thi… Continue

I got a brazillian wax.

As she ripped the sticky tape off, I said, "What the f*@%, holy s@#%, ^#$@!! (Those are not cuss words. They were the unintelligible verbage that came sprewing out of my mouth along with some spastic sign language I was making with my hands and feet in the air)

I don't know why I did it. I guess I felt pressure from some woman's magazine. Like I'm the last woman left who hasn't done it or something. Or maybe it was the porn I happened upon one day, (well, honestly, I've… Continue

If I were a painter I would paint the truth.

It is so much more colorful than the bland, washed-out world of unreality.

It is so much more abstract and sensual.

It is so much more powerful and acidic and explosive.

And everyone would linger there in front of my painting, just trying to wrap the art around them, not wanting to leave it behind, yet its price tag frightens them away.

But not everyone would recognize it as fine art.