Ignore the lumbering beast overhead.

Doom showed up yesterday, wringing the clouds dry with his claws, gnashing the stars down to dust with his teeth. Oh, it was an ugly night in the old head…

Thankfully it’s a fresh day and I have a pic to populate (see yesterday’s blog for details; the pic is below). So, here it goes…

On the background couch, sits two little old women whispering feverishly in each other’s ear.

In the chair, tizzies another with flush cheeks, mussed perm and an awestruck twinkle to her eyes.

While in the swing, swings an old man, barefooted, sweaty and proud. There’s a pounding on the door followed by a woman’s merry whistle as the play opens…

Ok, that was bad.

Pitiful, in fact.

But rookies are rarely winners, so I’ll crawl out of here under that cover.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Utopoa Lodge, Tanzania on Airbnb

Acclaimed author of 17 novels (my dogs and mother adore me), World traveler (I’ve felt the Sahara Desert between my toes… still gobsmacked over the stars in the Sahara) And survivor (of three dirty-fighting gremlins named Anxiety, Panic and OCD)… My name is Chloe Stowe. Hello. If you’ve found your way here, you’ve most likely arrived on the coattails of my blog, The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe. Started in 2012, my daily rantings now number in the thousands. Ranging from humorous to moody, poignant to absurd, these tiny tidbits of thought began as a way to get my name “out there.” It has long since morphed into an effort just to “be there” for anybody out there struggling with words or madness, like me. Quick biographical sketch of me? Nerd turned nut at nineteen. In my sophomore year at Auburn University, I was taken out at the knees by severe panic attacks. Chronic anxiety soon joined the dogpile, followed shortly by OCD tendencies. Oh, it was ugly. I eventually had to quit school and soon quit life, as well. I spent a good chunk of my 20’s not able to leave my room. Twenty years later, it’s still can get ugly in my head. Thanks to meds and doctors, however, I am able to lead a better life, now. I still can’t work outside the house, but I can live and smile and write. So, here I am. Broken, but stubbornly present. I hope my voice proves company to someone lonely out there. Thanks for reading! Chloe Stowe

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