mother nature's a babe

This guy used to be the guy! A little birdie sent me this link and my heart just got light. I was really dumb to ever lose touch and it makes perfect sense that I just adore his paintings. Those artists always got to me. I hope he's happy in life now. I wish I had the nerve to write but you know, what do you say? Hey, do you by any chance remember me? Your baby blues were a big influence on who I dated later in life. I still have the drawing of Mother Nature framed and hanging in my bedroom, always have.

haha. young love. And I did, I loved them all. My girlfriends never understood but I couldn't just date someone for a free dinner (well, that one time). Everyone I've ever been with, friends, partners, more than friends, lovers, boyfriends, husband, I've loved. Some obviously more than others. All have taught me and I don't regret any of it one bit.

It's funny how some people I dated, torridly wickedly dated, I'm best of friends with now (or at least close to). Husband even likes some of them. Others, not so much. I find it fascinating what a person is willing to share about their life, their actual possessions. In that way you possess the people you love, I firmly believe that, whether you like it/want to or not. It might sound creepy but I think it's very true. If you're willing to go to those places with someone, be it a 6 year relationship, a blow job, or holding hands, you leave something behind, a little pearl of yourself, and vice versa. I strung a necklace of these pearls (and yes, I'm aware of the dirty reference). The best I heard it was that my name was a talisman. That's one way I feel about these pearls. Although where I may just be one, they are many (probably too many ha ha ha),,,

Sometimes I miss these guys, sometimes in real life, but most times on the other side of midnight.

Some people say I done alright for a girl

A smile I found. I'm wise enough to know not everything is always about me although it's definitely more fun and interesting to think that it is. I like my life, that woman be damned!

I absolutely love the song Brand New Key. It only helps that I've seen Rasputina and Dolly Parton cover it live. It's become my new mantra while I munch rice cakes and applesauce. Deep breathing exercises and forgiveness (that's me the next 2 weeks). And no alcohol or anything. Must. get gut. in order. But that's okay. I've gone longer sans l'alcool --(and that reminds me, I had no idea, but marathon reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hell's Angels, and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail are definitely helping. I'm so glad I gave up the drugs when I gave up the boys. I think it's only fun to read Thompson with a clean head)-- It's probably my time to DD anyway. The reward is a private brewery tour at Diamond Bear. Justin, I've got your number and it's up!

Burn is healing although I'm leaving a glistening trail of antibiotic ointment wherever I go. Nice.


Starting to party plan for the 1st Annual Wilson Holiday Fancy Party is getting me excited. I love entertaining and our house was so built for it. Hopefully we can get the broken couch replaced by then. No one likes to sit in the crack. Hopefully all my new chef, sous chef, restauranteur friends (go Beachboard!) will appreciate my humble crab dips and cheese balls. Somehow I think the party won't be all about the food. Trust that the irony is not lost on me that I have traded in men who paint for men who cook. If I can just get myself sponsored...

Piano fun times. I'm learning how to jam! (yes, one can download books on how to jam-isn't that terribly wonderful!?!)

is there room in my heart, for you to follow your heart

Bird of Paradise, come in.

Long deep breaths later, advice from my dad to get laid later, mah jongg and risk later, surprise iris and bubs later, a little walking the dog later, a later later, I feel much better.

to the sea of frozen words

Believe me, I'm still angry. Foot stomping cussing angry. And I know it's just my turn, my stage of grief. And I know I'll get over it. Forgiveness is my thing. Life's too short and all that. Forgiveness got me married. And if I can forgive myself, there's not anyone else in the world that I can't forgive. And that time will come but for now this woman has had me so upset for a month straight that I've given myself IBS or some crazy bowel shit (ha, literally). A part of my body I've always taken such strange pride in being healthy. I'm dropping weight like flies.

I can't eat without getting sick. I can't drink nothing without getting sick. I can't lie down, I can't sit upright. I can't slouch. Tums are my new candy. Pepto, my new milkshake. I can't cry about it I'm so damn angry but I can sure throwup, everywhere. And all it is is my anger. This rage I have at wanting this woman to leave well enough alone and just quit, stop, end. And she won't or she says she will but I don't believe her. And it's literally eating me alive. I'm so sick but I still can't cry.

I don't want to live anymore life curled up in a damn ball.

Teach me how to love my brothers // who don't know the law

So apparently all you have to do is give me flowers and I'm cool cucumber once again. Thanks, Husband. Thanks, Husband's parents.

To make matters better, I'm getting computer speakers!! Hot child in the city here I come!

My war wound of Turkey Day (a crescent burn at my right thumb-to-hand joint) is not healing so well and has gone from being not soo bad to pretty gross. I would post a picture but it's exactly that, gross. I really can't stand internet spontaneous gross outs, although I do love gross outs. It wasn't so gross until in my time off I decided to practice some piano scales and in seeing just how far my hand will stretch, the skin, well, stretched. You can only imagine. Now it hurts BUT I made some headway in learning my song that I've been learning since this summer. Piano took hiatus to life. I'm looking to get back into it now that the weather's too shitty for tennis and most fun outdoor activities.

Mostly it's a good way to work out my arms without knowing it.

Where do you go my lovely?

amaryllis

Thanksgiving was hell on wheels. It's always good to be around family. To be in LR and see friends. To cook my first solo complete Thanksgiving. But the drama, the drama I can do without and if I must (and I did) I will put my foot down and not invite it back into my home. I am too old for that shit. Seriously. I am still unwinding from it. I couldn't sleep and was so sick all last night that I slept until noon and missed work today. Which, honestly, I feel I needed.

We got the Christmas tree up (Ziggy Stardust meets A Christmas Carol-it's totally cool) and most of the other decorations up. In my day off today I'll be finishing holiday decorating things, planting my amaryllis and calla lillies, maybe finally seeing The Darjeeling Unlimited, hoping you'll write back. Those are the things I'd like to get done today.

My dreams were loving, unwinding, placing much needed desires in much needed storage. I kissed you a thousand times but for what this kiss, this circus kiss.

Boogaloo Dudes

Carry the news.

Trying not to stress T-day but man do I need to get out of here. A glass of vino. Fresh air. Cow manure. Something. Just can't breathe right now. Doesn't help my computer doesn't have speakers. Suckthis.


Knee deep in invoices and profit sharing quarterly reports and sales and outreach. I need music damnit!! I can't add without beats. I can't see trends without notes. I'm thinking I need a personal day or two.

I still can't breathe.

Wrote something about my dream last night and, apparently, sex. We'll see.



Aubade, my bad

(I’ll stand as a beacon. A pyre spending light
across a million miles of time, waiting
for that one day for receiving a message,
a signal back—
All of Christ comes to those who wait—
Yes, you are still waiting,
static, resting, pulsing, I sing I see,
and have been this whole time.
I think I understand.)

The good book tells me to find love
in a man, hold out my lamp, seethe
and burn with trimmed wick. Sold.
Come die with me the good death then,
as a phoenix comes and comes again,
violently in the night as trumpets call it over.
I’ll wait if that’s what it takes.
I’ll wait like the last whisper of breath at death
I’ll wait when the leaves of autumn fall
I’ll wait buried deep in the ash.