Fonts on my mind

I found a fun list on one of the blogs I read and decided to participate.  If you are bored or artistically constipated, you might enjoy playing along with me.  (What I mean by that is this is a great way to get inspired.)

If I were a month I’d be November.

 If I were a day I’d be Sunday.

 If I were a time of day I’d be bedtime.

 If I were a font I’d be Tire Shop.

 If I were a sea animal I’d be a manatee.

 If I were a direction I’d be North.

 If I were a piece of furniture I’d be a queen size bed.

 If I were a liquid I’d be coconut oil.

 If I were a gemstone I’d be an opal.

 If I were a tree I’d be a weeping willow.

 If I were a tool I’d be a clenched pair of pliers.

 If I were a flower I’d be a calla lily.

 If I were an element of weather I’d be heavy snow.

 If I were a musical instrument I’d be a cello.

 If I were a color I’d be Pepto Bismol pink.

 If I were an emotion I’d be wistful.

 If I were a fruit I’d be an avocado.

 If I were a sound I’d be giggling.

 If I were an element I’d be Lithium.

 If I were a car I’d be a VW Bug.

 If I were a food I’d be eggplant parmesan.

 If I were a place I’d be the middle of nowhere.

 If I were material I’d be wool jersey.

 If I were a taste I’d be creamy.

 If I were a scent I’d be vanilla.

 If I were a body part I’d be love handles.

 If I were a song I’d be a parody.

 If I were a bird I’d be a goose.

 If I were a gift I’d be a pair of handmade mittens.

 If I were a city I’d be Lawrence, KS.

 If I were a door I’d be left unlocked.

 If I were a pair of shoes I’d be orthopedic clogs.

 If I were a poem I’d be Ode to My Socks.

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4 thoughts on “Fonts on my mind

  1. I work at a rehab for adolescent girls with drug and alcohol problems and mental illnesses. Today, Easter, was a really bad day there. I just worked 14 hrs and I badly need to vent. Hope its ok to do it here. In the context of this list. For therapeutic purposes. I truly didn’t know where else to go and then I got my RSS feed from this blog. If not okay, feel free to delete this comment.

    If I were a day I’d be doomsday.
    If I were a time of day I’d be dusk.
    If I were a font I’d be Hawaii Killer.
    If I were a sea animal I’d be a man-eating shark.
    If I were a direction I’d be down, down, down.
    If I were a piece of furniture I’d be a toilet .
    If I were a liquid I’d be blood.
    If I were a gemstone I’d be a bloodstone for courage.
    If I were a tree I’d be a weeping willow.
    If I were a tool I’d be a drill on the highest setting.
    If I were a flower I’d be a day-old cut daffodil.
    If I were an element of weather I’d be a hurricane with torrential rains.
    If I were a musical instrument I’d be a saxophone.
    If I were a color I’d be puke green.
    If I were an emotion I’d be anguish.
    If I were a fruit I’d be pomegranite seeds.
    If I were a sound I’d be the wind.
    If I were an element I’d be Lead.
    If I were a car I’d be a Pinto.
    If I were a food I’d be jello with spam and pineapple chunks.
    If I were a place I’d be purgatory.
    If I were material I’d be terry cloth and wrap myself in myself.
    If I were a taste I’d be chocolate.
    If I were a scent I’d be bleach.
    If I were a body part I’d be knees and elbows.
    If I were a song I’d be a folk song about murder, love and loss.
    If I were a bird I’d be a canadian goose flying away.
    If I were a gift I’d be a friend.
    If I were a city I’d be Cape Foulweather.
    If I were a door I’d be locked.
    If I were a pair of shoes I’d be spike heels.
    If I were a poem I’d be Searchers (poem follows)

    At dawn Warren is on my bed,
    a ragged lump of fur listening
    to the birds as if deciding whether or not
    to catch one. He has an old man’s
    mimsy delusion. A rabbit runs across
    the yard and he walks after it
    thinking he might close the widening distance
    just as when I followed a lovely woman
    on boulevard Montparnasse but couldn’t equal
    her rapid pace, the click-click of her shoes
    moving into the distance, turning the final
    corner, but when I turned the corner
    she had disappeared and I looked up
    into the trees thinking she might have climbed one.
    When I was young a country girl would climb
    a tree and throw apples down at my upturned face.
    Warren and I are both searchers. He’s looking
    for his dead sister Shirley, and I’m wondering
    about my brother John who left the earth
    on this voyage all living creatures take.
    Both cat and man are bathed in pleasant
    insignificance, their eyes fixed on birds and stars.

    by Jim Harrison

    thanks, eileen

  2. i think it’s actually less for the bored and artistically constipated than it seems at first glance. glad you played along and thank you for letting me know. 🙂

    it looks to me like it was extremely therapeutic for the previous commenter.

    and that’s what this big old blogosphere is all about…finding what you need at the moment you need it.

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