and turn the radio loud/ i'm too alone to be proud

This blog has never been about anything. It has no spine. It wanders. It flirts with all sorts of subjects.
It's a slut. It also has the worst blog name that ever lived.  {doobleh-vay} No one can spell it or find it.
I am not sure how many people actually read it.  I get more spam comments than real ones lately.
I know people want tight bites of information. They want pretty and EPIC startling things to shake them from stools and rise them off benches and make work days feel so much more productive.
They want design and decor and desire. Mid century legs and Eco friendly tube tops and all the things in the world that you can bookmark and forget about by Tuesday.

I just have stories.
I have these little stories inside of me.
I have 13 ways of kissing history.
I have the dead twin of David Sedaris inside my leg.
I have messes and motives and needs for you.
I have Bon Jovi bourgeois heartbeat memories.
I have trees in my ears.
I have stars inside of my mouth.
I am going to start a new site soon and I want to post more creative nonfiction on it.
I want it to be what I always wanted this blog to be.
What could I name it?
It needs a name.