Explanation for the madness

The Blog 2016 episode 3

The Blog 2016 Episode 3     The Saturday before last Saturday I slept in. I woke up around 1 or 2. Having my new sushi service job I knew this would be my last free Saturday for a long time to come. I had no particular plans for this day aside from doing as absolutely little as possible. I would set new standards for lazy day nothingness and hopefully never even change out of my pajamas. But that’s not...

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Blog is back!!

Well folks, I once warned you this moment would come... I’m bringing The Blog back. Perhaps this time I’ll do things a little differently. Most likely not. As long as there aren't really any readers I can keep on doing whatever the hell I want. And honestly I've always just wanted this blog to be my own Hunter S Thompson/Jack Kerouac style exaggerated diary.

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The most important thing you need to know about Poptart is that he is imaginary. He is an imaginary character that was once used to fill the storyline needs of a particular group of girls in the midst of middle school. We called ourselves TKO.

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Melancholy Evil Poptart 43 (The End)

The old man who I never really knew and yet for years after his death I aided in cleaning the house he nearly suffocated with hoarding. Like sifting through sand for gold I dug through countless boxes of junk that he had held precious and priceless. Stacks of newspapers and empty cereal boxes reached near to the ceiling creating a chaotic city of rubbish. And did you know he had a sister? How appropriate to be named after her. This Katherine was a smart woman who lived to be 96 If I’m not mistaken. I recall visiting her in at the old folk’s home in Florida. A small room featuring one window open to a view of the tropical garden. Stacks of books in large print spines cracked and torn from the rough love of reading. Books full of crosswords and various paper puzzles lay in a wicker basket by her bed. And did I mention Katherine was always happy to see us? Did I mention that she spelled her name K-A-T-H-Y-R-N? Thus provoking the spelling of Katy to end with a Y. Why indeed because my mother put K-A-T-H-E-R-I-N-E on my birth certificate so according to the government that is my name.

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Welcome October

I do know it’s been a while. I have been quite busy.

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All Apologies
23 Sep

All Apologies

On behalf of Kate E Lore as an independent freelance writer for Dayton City Paper I would like to make a formal retraction and sincerest apology to Folks of Dayton Music Festival to whom I have greatly wronged in my error a few weeks ago.

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Monday Morning in Dayton

I cannot think of anything that happened on Tuesday so my only conclusion can be that nothing happened on Tuesday at all. Twas a negative void in all the universe in which nothing occurred and some vast intergalactic being gained so so many days from living creatures that he added onto his own life certain immortality. This unknown supreme being stole everyone's Tuesday and thanks to it shall eventually out live the universe itself. His curse shall be to sit alone and bored in the leftovers of all that was; cosmic stew and space decay shall stain his sneakers a nasty yellow brown.

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Kveikur by Sigur Ros Under the Sea

I’m listening to Kveikur by Sigur Ros and there couldn’t be a better thing to be playing right now. Keep in mind this is my first time listening to this particular album. I’m drawn in initially by the pulsating bloodstream beat. The digital cords wash over and crash against the rocks as the vocals sail overhead in the open air above it all. The vocals swoop down then ride gracefully just above the waters glittery but stormy surface. It sinks and slowly dissolves into a fragment of a tune.

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A moment here in the apartment. A silly salad mostly

To my right is the wall covered in drawing paper -well half covered. I expected this to be covered in drawings and explosions of self expression, release of tensions, and various memorials to various adventures. Instead this wall so far has mostly messages. Scribbled to do lists, forced motivation and encouragements. I miss the comfort and familiar setting of being at home. I miss knowing exactly what was going on with all my people in Dayton. I miss having so many friends that there was always somebody I could invite to go with me some place. I miss Zell.

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