Intermission – I may be dying…


I know who killed me…

So my body has this talent of catching something as simple as the flu from someone and turning into the 8th layer of hell….

I caught the flu, which evolved into upper respiratory…in 24hrs because I am the gifted of all immune systems. I’m glad no one else caught it from me because I tend to mutate illnesses into something ten times worse and pass it on to everyone. Basically like a biological weapon. But yes, I shall return once I’m better and have less on my plate.

I have sooo many blog posts in draft right now, but I refuse to post until I can do my best because this is my baby. Anyway, those of you who keep returning and leaving me comments you are so, soooo much appreciated. Especially you KC Redding -Gonzales, you’re one of my favorite people and bloggers. I’ll be back to commented on your work soon.

Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease!

Love you all,

Harli V. Park

P.S. Fever makes you hallucinate some seriously wicked shit!


Ballad of the Midnight Girl


The Weaver of Starlight by Wandering Bohemian

She wakes alone, eyes wide and filled with the evening stars

Her skin capturing the glow of neon and chrome as it lay bare

All deities spying down on her as the vibe, the craving, the ardor take over her

It makes her rise slow, the threaded sheets sliding down her breasts

Like Egyptian silk slips through fingertips, like soft cerulean water over white sands

Giving view of her as she raises to heights and highs

Her bare feet touching the floor though never her heels

She walks on the balls of her feet in quick procession

Her fingertips, that know more of laying out men and women than Venus herself,

Lay out the white dress that lets her become the color of man’s desires under any light

She pulls from her closet to enter the night world. Continue reading



They always say that you shouldn’t guard your children too closely. That if something was meant to happen to them, then there will be nothing you can do to stop it. Whether your child disappears from the front yard or gets on a school bus and never comes back, danger will always be around but if it wasn’t meant to be then you are safe. As I’m texting this, I wonder if this is what they meant.

Mom, dad, I won’t say the obvious because you already know as I’ve never given you reason to doubt that your fifteen year old little girl loved you. We’ve always been good…it was just a fight. I’ve always been mature about these things and I know we didn’t mean what we said to each other. You know I never meant what I said…

I better hurry; I can hear it outside the bus. It’s already gotten the other kids and none of them even had time for this. So I think it’s true when they say what’s meant to happen happens. Its ok…I’m not mad, I just thought that for one moment, you wanted to replace me. I know that I alienate you sometimes with the way I think, how fast I learn, how much older I act. But know that even though you believe I look down on you, you were always my parents and the baby will always be my little brother even if because of what is meant to happen, I never meet him.

…it’s on the bus now; I can see ten of its spidery feet. It can smell me so I know I don’t have long.

I won’t say the obvious but I will say what I should’ve said before I got on this bus. Mom, Dad, I’m sorry…and none of this is your fault

Lizzy’s mother lowered the blood covered cellphone and looked at her husband. They, as well as the other parents, exited the blood splattered bus calmly. They stepped through the gore and carnage with indifferent faces, never even bothering to look back at the dried out husk of the creature that had taken their children, nor the limp body of their beautiful daughter Lizzy…whose body was strangely bulged with something moving just beneath the skin. As they stepped onto the black top road and looked at each other, Lizzy’s father placed a caring hand on his wife’s womb.

“You can care about this one now; we don’t have to give this one up…”

“I know….but…” the wife looked back at the bus. “But sometimes…I wish she wasn’t born first.”

“Remember, honey, this is not our fault.”

When Love is Not Enough (Me Before You)

I’m a bit late to the party for this book. I read it a couple of months ago when it popped up in my bookstore on the bestseller shelf. I thought it was just usual bubblegum romance of quirky girl and cold-blooded guy. Well it is….but also isn’t.

From this point on, there are *SPOILERS* so if you have not read this book/seen this movie, I ask that you exit…

…..Still here? Alright then…



When I started reading the Me Before You I already knew what it was about before the prologue was over. Or rather I assumed I did. I was correct for the most part right until….the end when I got what I wanted and was heartbroken over it.

The synopsis is Louisa Clark being fired from her job as a waitress, one she’s held for many years and thus left at a loss of what to do. A great part of me was ready to hate Louisa with her pickiness about jobs, but then something really resonated with me. I realize she really was an every girl. We can talk about doing whatever we can to help our families and remain financially stable, but in practice we’re actually quite picky. Add to the fact that her family does not think very much of her skills yet are quite dependent on her income and you have a situation that is becoming more and more commonplace in our society. Yet she does try hard and for that…I don’t hate Louisa. I couldn’t.

Continue reading

The Speed of Sunrise(A Thought at 7:25am)


5cm per Second by Makoto Shinkai



Whether it be physical, emotional, or mental, I revel in a certain degree of distance when morning’s first light touches my lids and stirs me out of sleep to bring me out under the flooded sky.

It’s such an acute experience because I feel nothing of what I fell into sleep with and nothing of what I am stirred awake to. Hanging in that world in between grants me an almost perfect zen.

No, not almost. It’s really quite perfect.

In those times, I can offer next level thought processes where my dreams are still splashing against the shores of my mind and allowing me to pick the prettiest shells for the most unique strings of fantasy later to be fashioned and lacquered with ink.

It’s quite beautiful.

Just an early morning thought before the sun moved its 15 degrees skyward and the hour in between passed.

-Harli V. Park –