Surreal Vanity

ps: i caught the bouquet at Johnny's wedding! wee..

!

"Please accept
Please accept this offer (it's over)
This is all for you
Transcend"

The little girl in the blue dress sat with her legs spread out to the sides, little pink toes (all ten of them) wiggling, playing Jacks on the rickity old porch. One jack, two jack, never a third jack four... the little girl in the blue dress would snatch up the little pink round ball in her fist with the small silver jacks poking out from the webs of her fingers.

"I got em!" She would exclaim to too-many-kisses Mr. Cat who happened to be watching from the corner of her left heel. She would smile and set the little silver jacks to the side, her tongue poking out from the corner of her lips, before bouncing the little pink ball once again hoping it wouldn't get stuck in the creases and cracks of the rickity old porch. One jack, two jacks, never a third jack four.

"Where did ya get those." The little boy in the little black hat with a notebook on a string bounced up on the porch wielding his stick sword. The little girl with the blue dress had gotten used to him popping in and out that she never did wonder if he was there or not there. Her head tilted to the left, then to the right, wispy blonde waves shimmered in the light of the fat lazy sun that stretched over the never ending corn fields. The little pink ball lost itself on a tumble as the boy stomped his way over and bounced over her knobby knees, rolling its way to freedom before finding itself caught into a crack at the edge of the porch.

The little girl in the blue dress pursed her lips together, resembling much like a small kiss a little princess would give a toad, and scrunched her nose up before pushing herself up, jacks poking out of the webs of her fingers, to sneak the run away ball.

"Oh! Now see you done it." She put her hands on her hips and peered into the crack where the little pink ball only poked out so much that she was trying to figure out how to get her little fingers around it to pull it out. Bending over she peeked at the ball with one eye, then the other eye.

"I'm sorry." And the little boy was, he walked over and peeked at the little pink ball sticking out of the crack of the rickity old porch and wondered if he could poke it out with his stick sword. They both stared at it for a good long moment before she just plopped back down on the dusty porch, her little pink toes dirty as they always were and blew a loose strand of hair from her face as though she were whistling. "That's alright. It was just a gift."

The little boy with the little black hat and the notebook on a string was bound and determined to get the little pink ball out of the crack of the rickity porch though. He took his stick sword and started beating away at the little pink ball, all to the amazement of the little girl in the blue dress whose blue blue eyes grew larger in her round face and blinked once, twice, and never a third time. "I'll get it!" The little boy exclaimed proudly and bashed and bashed away. She scooted herself back with the heels of her feet and the edge of her bottom, so he wouldn't wack her a good one with the stick sword.

The little pink ball fell down the crack to the underbrush of the rickity old porch and the boy with the little black hat and the notebook on a string put his hands on his hips proudly puffing out his chest which heaved in and out with strong puffs of air. "Ah ha! I told you I would get it!" The girl in the little blue dress rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "Well you sure did knock it a good one down there. Lotta good that'll do us."

"Well I got it out." He said smartly and stuck his tongue out at her. "Where did you get these things anyways. This isn't any proper toy." The little girl in the blue dress opened her pink fist that held the silver Jacks that poked out of her small fingers. "Well my new friend gave them to me. That's who! And you done lost the ball and how am I gonna play now the balls done gone missin under the porch." She stuck her tongue right back out at him and put the little silver Jack pieces in the pocket of her blue dress that hung limply on the side.

The little boy with the black hat and the notebook on a string stood scratching the small tuft of hair that poked out from behind his ear. Rightly confused, he was, and thought of whether or not he really wanted or intended to go scrambling on his hands and knees for a little pink ball that didn't make any good sense to him. "Well, don't he have another one?"

"I guess so." She said softly, and rubbed the back of her hand over her nose that twitched just a little. She wondered whether or not the boy with the wishes in his pockets was thinking about her. She brushed off the dust from her knobby knees and blinked once, twice, and never a third time before looking up at the boy with the little black hat and the notebook on a string.

"So why'd you come bouncing up anyways." She tilted her head to the side and looked at him. He seemed all bright and shiney in the light of the lazy fat sun that stretched out over the never ending corn. He smiled from ear to ear, just like the corn, and probably a crow would have eaten him if he didn't have a hat on she thought, all scarecrows have hats. "I found me a song bird!" And his chest puffed all out again, looking smart and big for a moment before his smile lapsed and he became pouty like he did from time to time when he couldn't think just right. "But I can't figure out how to catch it."

"Well I hope you don't go bashin it with a sword." She said and giggled to herself, but the boy with the little black hat with the notebook on a string didn't chuckle back and he slumped on down propping himself half up with the stick sword. "I was only kiddin. Maybe you can sing to the song bird and she will follow you home."

"No, I tried that."

"Maybe you could give it something to eat."

"No, I tried that too."

"Hm. Well does it even like you?"

"Well of course she likes me!" His face scrunched all up which made her almost start into gigglefits but she knew he was sad so she just looked down at her little pink toes and wiggled them thinking of ways to catch a song bird. "It's just that she just figured out how to fly and her parents won't let her go real far."

"Ohhhh." Said the girl in the little blue dress and she smiled real big, her blue blue eyes sparkling. "You can bash them with the stick sword!"

"Oh would you stop it!" He humphed at her and stood back up, looking at the stick sword as though that were a thought in his head and maybe it would work. He was lost in thought, staring once to the sword and then to the never ending corn fields. She knew he had some idea but just didn't want to say it. She tilted her head and blinked once, twice, and never a third time before pushing herself up, dusting off the ends of her little blue dress, and went to stand next to the boy with the little black hat and the notebook on a string.

"Does she sing a pretty song?"

"Yes, she has a beautiful song."

"Does she sing to you all the time?"

"Sometimes in the morning, and sometimes in the night, but she doesn't wake me up when I need to be sleeping."

"That's nice, that's a nice song bird."

"Yeah." He said softly, longingly, as though it were a hot day and all he wanted was an icecream cone. He looked at the stick sword, then at the never ending corn. The little girl in the blue dressed smiled, he'd been holding onto that thing since he got to the rickity old porch.

"You can take the sword. You can go show you can protect her."

"I can bring it back." He said and looked at her wondering if she could read his mind, and probably she could he thought... she was rather strange.

"It's okay. Maybe you can bring her to visit." The little girl in the blue dress thought long and hard for a moment, leaned up against the old railing of the rickity old porch and then looked at him with solumn blue eyes that all the sudden looked rather old in her little round face. "You think she would like to visit?"

He smiled, and ruffled her blonde hair and she pushed him down hard on his butt as he started laughing. "Course she'd like to visit, whiney pouty girl you are." The little girl in the blue dress stared indignately but the smile came back to her eyes, for which he was glad, he never did like her being sad.

She huffed and went back over to her Jacks, scooping them up by ones, twos, never threes, and then fours. "You gonna be okay?" He said, looking at the sword he once found to protect the fortress of the rickity old porch and the never ending cornfields beyond that found their way to the nevernever. He often times wondered what was out there beyond the corn fields but he knew it was no place he could go to, or come from, he was a picket fence boy.. or so the little girl in the blue dress told him. "Course I will." She said and stood up with the Jacks all poking out from the folds of the pockets of her little blue dress. And he knew she would be, it was summertime and he knew from her stories that summer was what made the roses bloom on her cheeks. He smiled. "Send me a balloon note if you need me. I am going to go save the song bird!" He exclaimed and hopped off the side of the porch in a swoop completely forgetting about the little pink ball that he bashed to the bottom depths of the underbrush. She giggled and ran over to the edge of the porch as he darted off towards the white shimmering picket fence that loomed over the edges of her world.

"Don't go bashin em in the head!" She yelled after him and smiled before walking over to the very far edge of the rickity porch where the little pink ball got itself bashed into the underbrush and scooting herself half on and half off the porch she peeked down under the porch to see if she could spy it.

"Watcha doin?" The little girl in the blue dress, startled, almost fell off the porch and scrambled back up with her blonde hair all tossled around her face. The boy with the wishes in his pockets laughed and laughed and came out from the corner of the porch where she must have missed him in the shadow. In his palm he held the little pink ball from her Jack set. She blew at the strands in her face and pushed it back with her palms, righting her little blue dress before sticking her tongue out at him. "I was tryin to find that. How'd you get it?"

He smiled, the mess of his curled hair poking here and there from out of a rubber band tied behind his neck. He was dusty everywhere from, she expected, him crawling under the rickity old porch and wondered how ever she didn't hear him down there in the first place or how he had gotten there. But he just smiled and handed her the little pink ball which she stuck in her pocket. "Well I wouldn't have had to if he didn't go bashing it down there. He has a strange way of fixing things."

She smiled and looked off at the white picket fence before turning back to the boy with the wishes in his pockets. "That's just cause he's a whiney pouty boy is all. You want to play?" The boy pushed himself up on the porch, his hair coming a bit more loose and it tangled around his ears, he didn't even bother brushing himself off and she didn't bother brushing herself off either as it just seemed natural to be all dusty and not so perfect around each other.

The fat sun stretched out across the never ending corn field and no breeze blew here nor there, the sad wind chimes resting in the summer afternoon. Somewhere on the other side of the white picket fence the boy with the little black hat and the notebook on a string was wielding his great stick sword (and hopefully not bashing anyone in the head) defending his song bird. And the little girl in the blue dress and the boy with the wishes in his pockets sat toe to toe on the rickity old porch, creating a circle around a pile of silver Jacks and watched the little pink ball bounce picking up one jack, two jack, never a third jack, four.

lately i have been just meh. off in some dazed and strange place that is silent no matter the noise around me. people want to drag me here or there and yet i don't feel the urge to move. i view everything as pale. the vividness of the paintings color has bled out onto the carpet and i stare at the painting, just slightly off center due to my astigmatism, and wonder where the life went.

i wrote someone a letter today, said many words that i never have gotten to say in the silent creases of our conversations and lack thereof over the last eleven years.

i talked to my mom, she said that she understands... these moments when all your stability, responsiblity, are gone and you become lost. wandering around in the abysmal wondering where you are supposed to be going and coming from. i just walk. i hear my friend playing a guitar in the background, some sad song that remains beautiful as it stings. i had it on repeat yesterday for about two hours and wrote nothing. i just sat there staring off into space before taking a long shower and pretending the hot water was a lover that snuck into the glass walls with me.

i watch life carry on, the waves of fate and choices that carry with me on the side roads. all the things i could have or could ever be, all the things that matter and don't matter. what do i want? the whispers of the souls in my life, they look at me, i them with pale cornblue eyes and say i don't know. i don't think i ever had. someday, sometime, maybe, perhaps.... what if's are lost in the fold of the paper, bent and creased and stamped .41 cents. they go somewhere i can not go. traveling without moving.

people call, hello hello. are you okay? yes and no. i have no answer. whereever i am it is all the same thing. the colors bled onto the carpet, i say, the painting ... it is always tilted, i have an astigmatism. they hold me with their words, run their hands through my hair, it's okay... these ghosts and whispers say, and it never was not okay. i just am wandering. some part of me is far away playing football in 100 degrees with humidity and thinking about the swimming hole. i called my heart, he said he missed me too.

the summer is always like this. it's distracting. people are distracting. i forget what this feels like until it happens and then my eyes gloss over with age and i feel worn down. my knees are weak and my heart even still being tethered into the past of my child walking in my childhood. it feels almost like a panic attack without the pain, without the exhaustion of air, without the chaos from it. you just feel continuely that mental numbness that follows. somewhere where sorrow and happiness collide and make some imaginary apathy.

it comes like an old lover and leaves stains on your sheets and spilt whiskey with a card that says, 'see you next time'. you wake up and you shower before going out for coffee. Alone always leaves a note, it likes to remind you it was there and not some bad night of tequila. it's considerate that way.

the vision of wandering around thrift stores all day seeking hidden treasures of someones past, comes to mind. the sound of some street blues band and the laughter from one person to another person, i can feel it on the creases of my lips and hear the sweet sound ringing. it hasn't happened yet, but it is as though i can see it in the periphial. a could be, a what if, a maybe that is frozen in time... a mirage in a desert. i drink deep the memory that is not a memory. punch drunk on a past that hasn't even existed.

i write words so the words go, they flow and fly free from me so i can concentrate on things less valuable than my self awareness. i read about car parts and the pieces turn stale in my eyes and become pieces of other things, living machinery. i wonder what the components of a heart would be. i wonder if they would be labeled 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. What is the purpose of the valve a, b, or c? would there be an essay? apparently you can't pass with less than an 80% and i never did well on tests of the heart. as illogical as my love is to this 'real world' that makes no sense to me.

i wonder briefly what would happen if i walked in the bled paint on my carpet and just choose to walk off. i figured i would spend some quality time with alone today, maybe go out for lunch, he always tipped well.

i am reminded of obsession perfume
touch-tone phones
and mobile home parks
and the tick tock of a clock
as time passed by

today was a good day with some awesome ideas that came to mind. passion creates ideas, a healing of a community whole, salvation to the captives of ignorance.

crackers, swiss cheese, and turkey for lunch with a bottle of lipton white tea raspberry. sunny days and cold foods = love

txt messages of chemical stars and conversation, what's better than a thunderstorm with lightning streaking over head in a brillant busy universe? bubble baths ...

trickling whispers passed between a song bird and me about tales of a rickity old porch and a boy with a notebook on a string. i forgot completely about my ideas of pictures and articles ... have to remember that for next time. work calls, busybusy bees.... i'm jealous of harry potter movie previews.

days dwidle down, time is restless... my journey to a new home or the experience to find one. i decided to help a friend along my wayward path so they do not sink as i try to rise. it seemed a good compromise.

i'm waiting for the minutes to run past me so i can read my book while walking in the warm sun back to the bedroom where my kitties are more than likely sleeping the day away wondering where 'mom' is to feed them for the fifth time since 3am.

tick tock... i closed an IM window. it felt cold on the other side even if the sun was young and the wind breezing. there seemed to be a shadow there where i couldn't see the trees, where they sing, where they dance on. conversation ended. no one needs good-byes anymore, they are automatically sent via instant message by auto responses of IDLE and AWAY.

afk in the cellular universe. my phone is dying, it's creeping upon me. i wonder if i charge it when i get home if it'll buy me some time while i'm scouring the seattle galaxy for two bedrooms and a dishwasher.

i forgot to add ice cream cones.

the morning comes too soon too fast
it takes away the symbolism of the evening stars
and replaces it with puffy clouds like puffy eyes
after tears are spilled across cold concrete
i remembered oysters this afternoon
by the waterside and the smell of seasalt
the disappointment from realizing that the taste
was too similar to being tossed too and fro in the atlantic
there was no poetry behind the crusted shell
no tenderness in the soft meat that marinated
in the chilled pacific
it is always so surreal in beauty, so picture perfect
but it is bitter and cold like the rains in october
i never could find a perfect costume

27

while the world sleeps miles away

2,139 miles away my heart hurts and wants to come home

"I had named a cloud after you on the way to work this afternoon... it had captured the sun and was exploding a million smiles of blue and orange.."

- a happy moment

i realized today i can't hate anyone even if i want to hate someone. i just feel bad for them. i sit here and i remind myself that i can't hate them for what they are used to, perhaps my intentions are assumed by past experience. and i guess everyone has a right to the way they feel, even if they want to feel that i'm stupid for caring. maybe someday they'll learn there are people out there that don't feel like playing games that are just compassionate people.

or if i'm wrong at least i can learn the lesson my dad taught me a long time ago when he told me the story about the woman who played a man for a winning lottery ticket and the man said (after finding out he was played-used) "maybe she needed it more than i did". maybe not, maybe so, no reason to upset an otherwise happy memory with a tainted attitude.

so instead i wrote a letter to billy on a cloud, it calmed me down. i didn't want to have an awful day like yesterday. i still have many good friends out there. krazy came up around this time and talking to him always cheers me up, even if it's just him or i ranting on about our jobs. i told him i thought tristan was right about a few things and how sometimes i keep coming across that lesson about caring too much about people. he said i should be more picky, i think about that... but i don't know. maybe i needed to learn something as well and who am i to think my heart is so great that i have to feel people 'earned' my compassion.

in truth i had a wonderful time at johnny's wedding. i'm glad i got to spend time with those very dear to me. to regret one moment is to take away from the beauty of what all of it was.

as cody told me once, "I can choose to listen, or not to. Just because they say bad things about me doesn't mean I have to listen to it. I can still have a good time with my friends that don't."

so anyways, i couldn't hate my so called friend. the laughs and smiles and amazing times that were spent in so little was good and he can exist in those moments.

my friend is coming to visit and teach me guitar and about art museums. a small piece of home that extends to this unknown place i have found myself at for the past five years of my life. it is like reading a story where you know all the places and have walked down all the roads. you know all the characters and silly tidbits that don't actually come out in the words. they understand the forgotten concrete bridges on the back roads and the sneaky secrets that the backroads contained... and where the haunted caves were and how they got their names. did you know if you jumped off one of the cliffs there and swam down deep deep deep below there is a car down there? now how did a car get inside of a cave?

they said they sacrificed babies in those caves, some many ages ago when my mother was young like my son.

i miss home. i miss what it meant once. i miss the people who knew everyones business and brought you a couch even if they didn't know who you were just cause you moved into a new house and a neighbor would bring you some potatoe salad and invite you to their bbq to get to know their neighborhood even if you lived in a trailer and didn't have any decent shoes.

i miss fireflys. natures nightlight that kept away the monsters in the shadows of our nature. maybe that's why johnny is so happy all the time.

Imagine you are a huge rock, sitting high on top of a mountain. Nothing frightens you, or moves you. You're so tough, the storms of thousands of years haven't even scratched your surface, though they've worn away lessor rocks into helpless rubbles. Then one chilly day, an apparently harmless drop of water brightly splashes upon you, and trickles its way into a deep crack in your center, which has been there since you were born, but has been overlooked by the rains and winds until now. What will you do?

You will do nothing. You, who have stood up against centuries of floods and tornados, have nothing to fear from one tiny drop of water. The next day, the thermometer drops to zero, and the drop of water freezes in your center. The freezing causes it to expand, and the expansion hurts you. Since nothing has ever before been able to weaken your strength, how do you feel about a drop of water which is expanding inside of you, and threatening to crack you in two?

A quiet little meditation like that will throw a great illumination on what it's like to be in love with a watery, gentle, and sometimes Looney Moon Maiden. It can shake your foundations - but it's too late. She's already penetrated the secret place no one else has ever quite reached - the heart.

---

An occasional Cancerian girl will claim she's not typical of her Sun Sign because - "I don't like to cook, I don't want children, and I hate staying at home." Don't let her fool you, like she's fooling herself. The reason she's scooting around in those Crab-like sideways patterns is because she hasn't found the man she secretely yearns for, the one who will protect her and wrap her up in thick blankets of devotion. She may inwardly love babies and cooking and home making, but she's not going to stand over a hot oven or rock a cradle for just any male. Until hematerializes out of her moonlight dreams, she'll cover up her tender maternal feelings and sentimental femininity with ambition for financial security, a successful career, and public attention, sprinkling jokes everywhere she goes, punctuated with a crazy Looney Bird giggle, that says (or tries to say) "I don't care!" But if you listen to the hidden chords, her Lunar laugh is whispering a wistful message: "I'm lonely and frightened and sad - don't dreams ever come true?"

This woman is ruled by the moon, which is a reflector of light. So she instinctively reflects the moods around her, indeed, every change in her immediate environment is reflected, mirror-like, in her heart and brain. Sometimes all that reflecting creates an eclipse of her true self. It's not easy for a Moon Maid to know who she is, and where she is going, although she has an uncanny sense o fthe feelings and intentions of others. Lots of people trust their secrets to her, and are rewarded with tender sympathy and wise council. Yet, it's next-to-impossible to pry her own secrets out of her.

One might say to her, "I don't understand you. You say you love me, but you spend all your time running around, giving birth to ideas and babies, buying clothes, taking CARE packages to your friends, working for the PTA and Greenpeace and the garden club, listening to music, painting pictures, making bank deposits, learning French, visiting the planetarium, and sitting out in the back yard staring at the Moon by yourself. You don't need me. I'm just in the way around here." Now, she may perceive, after a speech similar to that one, what the problem is. He's hurt, because he's not getting the attention he needs, the pats on the head and affectionate hugs and kisses he hungers for, to make him feel securely loved. However, lacking her Lunar sensitivity, he may not understand how much she needs all her busy activities - as well as her world of dreams - so she can reflect back into life all the things she absorbs by living it.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/10255368@N06/show/

In the beginning I was submerged into the table top rpg to online world for some few years. I transferred over to just working administration after many frustrations there which led me into the modeling / photography world of all things.

After some years running around and being a socialite in the goth / fetish scene I found myself back into gaming and this time in the MMORPG world of some well named companies. I've been running amok in those for awhile and this morning while just humming away thinking "Goodness I haven't sang in a while.", I get a message asking if I'd like to go audition for a band connected to some media company.

People ask me how I know the people I know or do the things I do, I really have no idea. I just kinda ... come into them. I mean nothing may come out of it and all, but it's still nice to be asked. I've been very blessed to know some amazing photographers, models, musicians, game developers, machinima artists, writers, and ... I could go on.... in my time. The last five years of my life have been a whirlwind of amazing circumstances and the people I have met are by far the greatest treasures than anything else. Fate only knows why they keep my crazy lil cancerian self around! Hehe.

It only makes me think, after much talking to my favorite person Bry Bry, that one should love, love, love, touch, experience, taste, feel, and breath in the life around them. Smile at the next person you see and ask them "How's your day going?" And you may never know who you might meet or where a simple "Hello" may lead you.

this weekend i am getting away from everything. spending time with my friends here and shutting off this computer.

i need me time, and i'm just not finding it.

my father always used lower case, even the i's
i figure that is where i inherited my use of strange Capital letters
in the middle of sentences - in random

to stress / restress particular points
strange how dots. change and conform the punctuation of a sentence
how our minds end at a comma, and begin at two spaces to the right
of a sentence

my nickname took away the capital of my birth name
removing A for a to ~manda subtracting the stress
and making the name smaller and more compatible
with other Peoples capital letters

today i thought i needed a vacation
but i couldn't think of where to go where there wasn't any
expectation
expectations are like exclamation points ! in an almost negative
connotation that people express by using question marks ?
and end with emocons of colons and parenthesis :(
dash Dash dash / / / them all away like swords filtering out
the negative - to positive + punctuations

the only part of a sentence that cannot be removed is the space
the space between one word and the next word
each word being like a person and if thereisnospaceittendstonotmakeany
good sense of any word
spaces like the ending of a paragraph

to the next paragraph - enter enter

giving room to one words life and the next words life
so that it can stress its individual personality and definition
within any sentence, paragraph, chapter
of a book

andthepeoplearoundmekeepsqueezinginnotallowingmeroomtopunctuatemyword

today i took my word, my one little word
and i set it way over

here with a lot of space

Me.

so it could breath a little in between all the other words and end with a period
and begin with a Capital letter
so it could be two spaces to the right or left of anyone elses word

prepare for gallery upon return :)

i'll be taking a leave of absence whilest i read harry potter ^^ will return thereafter.

i realize a lot of people are going through things. i know that there are people i care for that need me, but sometimes... just sometimes i need some time and space for me.

i'm sick, i'm really tired, and i really want to read harry potter.

i know people want to be there for me and to tell me they care about me, but i already know that and it's becoming smothering. i deal every day with feeling guilty for not being there for peoples emotions while my body is draining and becoming more ill and i'm starting to blow up at people because of stress. and the worse i get the more people come in to and ... i can't handle it.

you know i say i'm reading harry potter and then i get all these people calling me to see how harry potter is going well i don't know how harry potter is going cause i can't read it when i'm on the phone! /sighs i don't mean to be rude i just want some room.

i have so much going on that i cannot even say, no more or less than everyone else, but unlike a lot of people in the world i cannot deal with whats going on in my life unless i have room to SEE around me and look around me. be still, be quiet, the ever burned words of my mother. and i cannot be still or quiet when my phone is ringing, txts are going off, i go online to check my email and i get bombarded with IMs. if i don't respond i get more messages and then emails and then people start wondering if i am upset or if they hurt me and then they get upset cause i'm not there for them being upset and dammit world..... i am one person.

i get quieter and quieter to people because i just am smothered. and now that i say this i'm sure there are people that will start feeling bad as though they did something wrong and no, seriously, no one is doing anything wrong. i just need my own space. i need my own room to breath. it's one of the very reasons i hate being in relationships because this happens... i'm smothered by expectation, emotions of others, needs and necessities and i throw up my hands!

i want some time to read. i want to know that when i turn off my phone for a few hours that it's okay. that if i am quiet because i am working that it's okay cause i'm working, it's my job. that if i so happen to be gone for an evening that no one is going to die and think i hate them because i put my phone away for a few nights to revel in my life here... in my world. around me.

i still need to move into my apartment. and i still need to work out the arrangements going on with my son. i have someone coming to visit and then later my family and i've yet to have all things together. i have an event that every day i question whether or not i should go because sometimes i feel like i have to tip toe around so many different people to make sure they are happy. and i want to say, what about me and my happiness? who cares about that? and then i feel selfish. i battle every day against the needs of others to my own needs.

i really want to start working with this band. something fresh and new like a piece of paper. there are a lot of things i want to do /here/ in my world and my life. and i have many people that are not /here/ in my world requiring so much of my time that i don't have a lot left just for me. i mean here i am writing this blog post when i could be spending time for me but i feel if i don't write it that people will wonder why i'm seemingly distant and silent.

my heart is tired and it went on vacation to get a cup of dark espresso. and i swear if i could have anything right now it would be one night of great fucking, no foreplay b/s, just that.. .nothing else. hard, fast, and done so i can read my goddamn harry potter book.

that was the best harry potter book ever written.

So Kristina and I have went to a palm reader who told me I have so much passion that it's probably "interesting" to watch me eat, and that was fun and amusing. Then we went to a Tarot reader that told me about Blizzcon and how she figured I'd wind up marrying some Leo, and that was amusing. Now we are steaming things up and are looking for a Psychic!

>.>

What will the future hold...

Though I do think that the palm reader I had at Camlan was the best I'd ever been to. In fact, she scared the living shit out of me and I loved her for it. It is almost two years from the day I saw her and she did state that two years later I would have to "choose wisely". Though I have been confused all these many years if she meant something else and not two years from that point but two years in my past when I had to make a wise choice. Regardless, she did warn me that this was my grace time and more hard times were to come... such was my Fate.

.the world is spinning inside

I feel like this is a great test of my will and yesterday it shook with great force.

I stare at the cracks in my walls as a test of my patience. I hear the palm reader say, "You have so much will." And I draw into it, close my eyes, and pull it all into me as though visioning it is all in the mount of Venus, my wishing star, and feel it pulse into my heart. "You have an ability like few people, to be able to love and let go for the happiness of the other people around you."

Breath in.... like air filling deep into my lungs, turning solid, penetrating my heart as though it were a shard of sharp ice... take the pain in (which is memory)... and watch my fingers, red lacquered nails, release the hold.

I can only focus on so much... most things only grace the surface, effecting only the surface. I suppose I was not ready for something so close to pierce. I am thankful for the heart I do have, that although in ways painful, is strong enough to love more than for myself.

late night meanderings, i sup and contemplate
written letters to the ether, lock in a box, collect and recollect
distractions, 30% polyester ten buttons, folded and placed away
seattle starlight, nightlight, candles and martini in green glass
no more 'i love you', shush and shut away
too many mistakes, too little time, emotional consequences, say good-bye
and walk out with a half filled, half empty cup
'where are you going?' home and home again
distance and distraction, defensiveness in illusion
and curl up on the the empty cloud, beneath and above, with no chemical starlight
close your eyes, 'sweet dreams babe', and rest upon the aftermath of days and days gone by
i dream of broken cars and missed parties where friends delight in dismissal
i think of you, thousand mile moon, where no balloons fly and get tangled in the electrical cords of daily life
rub my eyes, sleepy daydreaming, waves and tides of lust then love then lust
it's all the same anymore, controlled and caluculated till there is nothing left behind but a memory of whatever was or might have been
reality at its finest, stirred in a double shot vanilla latte, 2 for $7 dollars and mixed conversations and laughter of explosions and war... famine was never my friend to begin with
this desk represents the mechanical automation of my life

I am reminded this morning of what my palm reader said. "Do not pay attention to how they treat /you/ but how they treat the others around them. Not on how they are to you, but how they are in their own lives."

coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences
coincidences

do not exist.

time to ask for a little assistance.

the water drips
soft kisses on tense shoulders
before the rush of heat
that swells and pulses over
prickled skin, goosebump flesh
pores open wide their hungry mouths
drinking in the rush
and salvating sweat over smooth silk

i sigh and hang my head back
feel the water wave over my lips
lick, suck, sip as though they were anothers kiss
into my own mouth
feel it as it dribbles down across the curves
finding the creases unseen, inbetween
and whimper at the touch of my elemental lover

cleansing, self satisfying
hours of the beat of a heated non pulsed heart
that condenses and steams like hot breath
on cold windows
yearning, drawing, the human soul
to it's ever smooth foundation and form
before the rush stops
and drips kisses once again across the body
and sets free, releases, love lust love
taking with it all the things you could not let go