Simply Drakovi

The roofers are finally done. The banging and rattling are over and the new roof sits up there solid and quiet. I stood outside for a bit this morning just looking at it. It’s a strange kind of peace knowing it’s all rebuilt and ready. Just in time too. Monsoon season is rolling in. The sky’s been flirting with rain the past few evenings and you can feel it in the air. The desert was aching for water. You can almost hear the ground sighing when it finally drinks. That scent of wet dust and creosote, nothing like it. Lately I’ve been feeling like myself again. It’s been a stretch of heavy weeks, months maybe, but something’s shifted. My happiness is finding its way back. It doesn’t feel so far off anymore. Most of the demons I’ve been carrying around have gotten quieter. Some are gone. I’ve made peace with a few. I can breathe again. And through it all there’s Hayley. Always steady. Always there. I love that girl with everything I’ve got. Some days I don’t even have to say much. She get...

Society Has Become Really Strange by Drakovi Bloodrose  Society has become really strange said the vending machine to the priest as the quarter melted into a whisper of plastic pigeons and the neon gods blinked out a morse code we never learned i saw a man selling memories from a Ziploc bag labeled Thursday and everyone paid in emotional debris the receipt screamed we’ve replaced feelings with firmware stuffed serotonin into the sockets of our screens while pigeons wear neckties and debate philosophy in alleyways sprayed with graffiti that spells truth backwards i tried to scream but the alphabet was on vacation Y was drunk in Tijuana and Q never even existed you just believed it did like freedom like cereal prizes time isn’t real anymore just a carousel of 404 errors looping the same breakfast until eggs become ideology and toast recites propaganda a child drew a map of reality using crayons stolen from a ghost’s toolbox everyone applauded we made it the flag capitalism got baptiz...

Mornings are quiet here. Before the heat kicks in. The sun is low and soft. Like it’s waking up slow. I usually just stop. Take a moment. Let it sink in. I stare at the sun. Just catching the light at the edges of my eyes. Feeling the warmth on my face before the day gets busy. Sometimes the sky is pink and gold. Other times just pale blue. Either way, it feels like hitting reset. A little break before the noise starts. I don’t stay long. Just long enough to slow my breath. To settle. It grounds me. I try to do this every day. And when I do, it reminds me why I live in this dry heat.  Mornings have a softness.  If you catch them just right. Simply Me,  Drakovi Bloodrose 

There’s something quiet I like about folding laundry once it’s dry. No machines running. Just the soft rustle of fabric and the stillness in the room. I hang everything outside when I can. The heat does the drying and the wind does the rest. When I bring it all back in, the fabric feels sun-warmed and a bit rough from the air. It smells like the yard and the day it dried in. Folding becomes a kind of rhythm. Shirts, towels, the little things. I don’t rush it. Edges lined up, stacks forming. The smell is different. Not detergent, not dryer sheets. Just sun and wind and fabric. My mind drifts while my hands work. Nothing big. Just small thoughts that stick around a while longer than usual. Simple work. Grounding. I never mind it. Simply me,  Drakovi Bloodrose 

When the Sand Laughs by Drakovi Bloodrose The sand laughed in spirals, and I laughed back because what else could I do. It wasn't mocking me, not really. It was just tired of being stepped on. Each grain had a name I couldn’t pronounce and a history I’d never believe. Some were bones of gods, others were dreams that never got dreamt. I bent down to listen, and it filled my ears with static, like the sound of prayers whispered underwater. It told me I was already a ruin, a beautiful one, but crumbling all the same. I looked to the sky for a response, but the sky had folded in on itself like a napkin after dinner, used and vaguely embarrassed. I stayed a while anyway. Sank to my knees. Let the laughter crawl up my spine. I laughed until my ribs ached, until the wind forgot my name and started calling me something older. Maybe the desert forgave me. Or maybe it was never angry to begin with. Maybe it just wanted someone to laugh with so it wouldn’t be alone in its endless spinning.

Missing Voices: Why Call of Duty’s Latest Update Feels Unbalanced I checked out the new Black Ops 6 update today. They added Beavis and Butt-Head, Coach Buzzcut, and Todd. Kind of a mediocre mix, but I was curious. After a few games, though, one thing really stood out there isn’t a single female character anywhere. That feels off in today’s world. We’ve been talking about balance and representation forever. This update could’ve easily included some female characters from the same universe. Like Mrs. Stevenson, Lolita and Tanqueray, or even Daria Morgendorffer. Those choices make sense and would have added some much needed variety. I really enjoy Beavis and Butt-Head and love seeing them in the game. I also like Daria and Mrs Stevenson and wish they were part of this update. Instead, it’s all dudes, loud and over the top, like always. It feels like a missed chance to switch things up or actually think about who they left out. I’ve played Call of Duty for years, and lately the game just ...

The Yard Doesn’t Stay Clean for Long The eucalyptus never takes a break. Bark curls off like she’s shedding skin, leaves drop even on windless days. I don’t try to win the fight, just keep up with it. Bit by bit. It was already over 110 out when I stepped outside. Dry heat, the kind that wraps around you without warning. I actually like the way the air hits my skin makes me feel more awake than coffee ever could. Makes the yard feel alive in its own sharp way. I didn’t stay out too long. I’ve learned how to make these cleanup sessions count without overdoing it. Short bursts. Focused. I take what the tree drops and haul it off, clear the ground enough to see it again. The pile never stays gone. But that’s not the point. She’s still growing, even when she’s messy. And I let her. I’ll be back out there again tomorrow or the day after. Same rake, same heat. It never really ends, but I don’t need it to. Drakovi Bloodrose 

The Water Heater Clicked and That Was Enough This morning the house was so quiet I heard the water heater click on from the other side of the place. It made me stop what I was doing, which wasn’t much. Just standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was amazing. The day was just sitting there, waiting to be lived. Hayley was still asleep. I didn’t feel like checking my phone. I just listened. Noticed the fridge hum. The soft rustle of the dog stretching in her sleep. Somewhere outside a bird was making that weird single-note call that sounds like it’s asking a question. I stood there longer than I meant to. No deep thoughts. No realizations. Just there. Eventually I made the tea and sat down at the table. Didn’t reach for a book. Didn’t write anything down. I just drank it slow and looked around like it was the first time I’d seen the place. I’ve been in this house a while now, but it hit me all over again that I live here. Not in a big way. More like a...

The Dream Where I Knew Everything Last night I was in a library with no walls. Books hovered a few feet off the ground, moving slow like they were drifting in warm water. None of them had titles but I still knew what each one was about. Not from reading. Just from being near them. I wasn't looking for anything. I was just there. Someone with the face of a sunflower gave me a cup filled with sand. I drank it without thinking. It tasted like wind and old paper. He didn’t speak. Just nodded toward a hallway shaped like a question. I followed it. At the end was a room full of clocks. None of them made a sound. One had a bird’s nest inside. Another was leaking wax. I touched the one that had no hands and it felt like a heartbeat under my palm. That was when I understood. Not like an answer shouted across a field. More like a memory that finally came back. It was soft and full. It didn’t explain itself. It just stayed. I woke up with my eyes open. Quiet. Still carrying it. I can’t put wh...

Cookie Dough and Reruns Yesterday didn’t ask much from us. We didn’t offer much back either. And that felt just right. After a long week that dragged its feet and took ours with it, we finally hit pause. No plans. No lists. Just us on the couch, letting the day drift by without checking the time. We watched reruns of Friends on HBO, the kind of show that doesn’t need your full attention. You laugh, even when you’ve seen the punchline a hundred times. You look at each other during the credits and know you’re both thinking about something else entirely, but in a good way. At some point Hayley and I split a tub of some homemade cookie dough ice cream. It was perfect for such a hot day. A little soft, a little uneven. But it hit the spot. Cold and sweet and just messy enough to feel like a small win. That was it. That was the day. And I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Sometimes love is loud. Sometimes it’s quiet. And sometimes it’s just sitting beside someone you’ve been through hell with, ...

Reflecting as the Potatoes Cooked  I didn’t anticipate pondering anything profound today. I was simply cooking potatoes. Nothing elaborate. Only a few small ones, peeled and cut into pieces. I was positioned near the stove, observing steam ascend like breath from the pot, and there was something about it that felt tranquil.  Not silently in a hushed sort of manner. Just remain still. My hands were spotless. Lillie lay asleep by the front door, her paws moving in a dream she wasn’t prepared to abandon. The cats were carrying out their regular patrol. All was well. Yet something in my chest was moving, like a door quietly opening just wide enough to allow a thought to escape.  I reflected on the number of times I've boiled potatoes throughout my life. And how varied the explanation is on each occasion. At times, it’s solace. At times, it’s habitual. Today it seemed like a ceremony. A gentle reminder that little things still matter.  I gently stirred the pot and contemp...

The Ones Who Sat With Me This Morning I did not plan to read today. Just wanted to move a few books around, maybe clean off a shelf or two. But once you touch one, something changes. You feel it. Like they are all waiting for you to notice them again. The morning light came in soft. Warm across the floor. My tea steeped quietly beside me. Kila stretched long like she owned the house. Miko stared into a corner like he heard something I could not. It felt like a day that would not ask much of me. I did not sit down with a plan. I did not go cover to cover. Just opened a few of my favorites, let them speak a little. Vaughan's Thalia Rediviva came first. Not the one people know. This one is gentler. A little slower. He writes like he is remembering something that still glows in the dark. I only read a page. It was enough. His voice never feels heavy, even when it should. Then came Neruda. The Yellow Heart is always close by. There is something about it that feels secret. Not loud. Just...

The Sock I Didn't Misplace  I was putting away laundry, which is one of those chores I act like I’ll complete all at once, even though I never succeed. I fold three shirts, drift away, return, lose track of my place, fold a towel, gaze at the wall. You’re familiar with the process. In any case, I discovered a sock. Dark. Tired yet still sturdy. And here’s the strange part, I wasn’t longing for it. I have no idea how much time it had been absent. I wasn't even aware it had gone missing. As soon as I grabbed it, I realized it was that sock. The one that used to belong to my favorite pair. The one I surrendered to without realizing I had surrendered. And all at once, I sensed that I had a debt to it. Apologies, dude. You were worthy of more. I realize it's foolish. Simply a sock. However, it got me reflecting on how frequently that occurs. Items drop out of our lives, and we remain unaware. Only after they reappear. Silent. Known. As if they never departed. The amusing thing i...

Woke up feeling off. Not in a dramatic way, just kind of sideways. Like I wasn’t fully in my skin yet. I wandered into the kitchen. No lights, just that dusty morning haze coming through the window. Opened the jar cabinet, stood there for a second longer than I meant to. Reached for the lavender. Didn’t think about it much. Added some lemon balm too. Chamomile was already on the counter like it had been waiting. I didn’t measure anything. Just tossed it together like I’ve done a hundred times. Kettle was already going. Lillie stretched and yawned like she understood the mood without needing a word. She's good at that. The first sip hit different. It wasn’t about taste. It was something else. Like the plants knew I needed to be brought back to myself before I even realized I was drifting. The tea didn’t solve anything. Didn’t give me some sudden epiphany. It just gave me a minute to sit still. That was enough. Funny how that works. You spend so much time trying to figure out what’s ...

Back At It, Simply Me, SimplyDrakovi I didn’t mean to disappear so long this time. It just sort of happened that way. Life got noisy, the kind that sneaks up without warning. One day you're writing about herbs and tea and tangled thoughts that turn into poems, and the next you're staring out your window wondering how months flew by without a single blog post. Not that I haven’t been living. I’ve just been living more quietly, I guess. But today felt like the right day to say hello again. This morning I brewed a mug of orange and hawthorn with blackberry tea, sat outside with Lillie at my feet, and watched the sun break over the rooftops. The desert’s still dry as ever, but the morning air held a weird sort of softness. It felt like it was inviting me to start again. No big declarations, no pressure. Just picking up where I left off. So that’s what this is. A small reentry. Nothing huge to report. The garden’s mostly hanging on, though the heat is making everyone cranky. Plants,...