falling, falling, fallen...

self delusion rendered to tiny bits of flotsam,
fading into the aquamarine.

ephemeral technology the lifeline that stills the drowning
the voice, velvet steel soft,
reminiscent of evenings of music, real food and secret promises.
feeds the soul.


fingers twitching to trace spine and skull in a single sinuous line.
hand trapped like a fragile bird in an iron cage,
sweet breath in my hair.
an arched back, an elbow, a flexed knee.
the slow rumble of belly laughter and a smile.
feeds desire.

the discovery of almonds, the same cadence walking.
the protective hand in the middle of my back,
possessive yet barely there not interfering with my freedom.
silly ditties, serious conversation and silence that never really is.
feeds the heart.

and decade old walls come a crumbling down,
bits of sand into the whirlwind
to fade into the aquamarine.

s'been awhile

salty ocean overlays 10W30 singing to me all the day long. soft sweet strong and giggly like a school girl when slowpoke shows up at casa de speedy. a powerful, gentle tide that wipes away footprints of past travails while inviting you on a new adventure. pushing you to be more than you allow yourself to be, yet shielded from the overbearing crowd like a hidden lagoon along a rock ridden shore.

letting yourself go where you promised yourself you would no longer tread. closing your ears to reason with the sultry tang of man running in your veins. tossed about the ocean of desire and cradled in friendship's embrace, lulled to peaceful sleep by the intertwining melody of heartbeats rustling sheets and snores.

fighting to hold on to that wicked independence that has cost you so much ...

lost.

holiday

3 and a half more sleeps. a short nap on the plane and I will again been centered with every step I take. Time to find out if last year's romance with the island was just first trip delusion. I'm thinking not but need to keep an open mind. 

holiday > holy day > wholly day or holey day > a day with lots of space in it

and there are 21 of them to enjoy to the fullest.

midpoints

The moulding wetness of the last few weeks had dried to a fine autumnal haze, a midpoint twixt a fleeting summer and the oncoming hibernatory season. Crispy deadness scrunching through summer's memories as I shuffle off to work.

My internal balance found once more as I shed my own-made obstacles in favour of a freeness of spirit. My last winter fed me sea and salt while summer faded too early. Sun baked warmth leeching from tanned flesh faster than it should.

But naught to fear since the cinnamon call sings persistently in the back brain waiting for opportunity to arrive.

come and gone ...

Demarra sweetness to the ears and spicy heartbeats, sweet grass laughter and cinnamon smiles. The call you haven't been waiting for rings unannounced and makes a magic java morning that much better.

Dusty sunshine needs a telehug and a well in which to dump her electric tension. No problemo, the bottomless is here. That's why she called. What are friends for after all but to share the load.

Suck up that creative juiciness and spit it back out as art, at the same time committing your passion to the other and hoping the client likes the finished product as much as you seem to do.

Some clean sweeping, sloughing the dross that has collected, once desired but now unused. Fresh nag champa wafting through the hall lulling the forebrain, suggesting a sort of sittedness. Let it float and go. You don't really want to keep the inner trash anymore than you really need the outer.

Free yourself. Only you can.

another friday nite

When you are alone and fighting the despondency that threatens and a couple of friends show up.  Count yourself lucky.

The darkness threatens. suffocating in intensity to be lightened by the driven but motivated visions of your friends. They could be anywhere else but they are here. They smell alive, they sound invested, and they do not release you to the voices. They engage, laugh, argue, and come to terms.

They keep me safe from myself. why? Shouldn't I just let go?

rainy echoes

of fresh springtime mornings with overtones of almost ready for death, pungent earthy and all too real. Summer fades in and out daily, teasing the serotonin and fucking with the olfactory definitions. It feels like autumn, smells like spring and should be the full blown glory of late summer harvest.

achoo!

ahhhh. there it is. Some randomly escaped pollen or grain dust that has wended its way through the catapulting drops just to let me know it really is still summer.

The children all go back to school tomorrow and the world will ring with the stank of fear and occasional incontinence on buses locked away from life over summer while mothers do their joyous "the house is mine" dances and the neighbours' dogs  wander lazy through their yards without no worry of debris pelting them from over the fence.  At least until 3 oclock.

persimmons

spicy smooth sharp sweet tart. like love in the afternoon. all those things that make your belly groove and your feet dance without moving. even after a day of chasing the answers that continually evade you as the energy runs high. wanting...

I'm told by astrological experts, the I Ching, tarot (pick a flavour), & chakra readings plus my own unavoidable pulse, that "I desire" is the phrase that best describes me yet...  it's no longer about what I desire but more about what I choose not to be.

experience grants perspective and occasionally knowledge, though the interbeing does not always work itself out in terms which you may or may not understand.

do you?

amalgamation

We define/analyze/interpret every experience through the amalgamation of knowledge & action applied to sensory input. Rarely can one separate out a single sense, thought, or movement and say "There, it was that.", because we are all like baked onions. Semi-transparent layers on layers soaked through with demerra sugar and real butter, all jumbled together and impossible to pick apart. The onions sugar and butter inter-are*.

Like a memory that surfaces "a la deja vu"  bringing the past into the present, enriching/polluting the now with the then. Sense memories creating the range of predilection you inherit through your experience. Nothing really ever stands alone.

My head and heart & soul have always been filled with the cacophony of aroma that is my primary memory sense.

The blog is an expression of how I inter-am.

* Thich Nat Han

Publish Post

like molasses in january

heh heh heh

Great conversations Sunday ;) 'nuff said.

Great day for a road trip, went out to Moose Jaw for Mikey's bday supper. Only one cousin there - mostly just the adults. It was nice. The renos are going very well and everyone out there seems to be fairly happy. YAY!

it's been a long week.

patience

I find myself in a singularly strange place. The sugar has a bee in his bonnet that I am seeing someone else. I have not. I have told him I have not. I thought the nascent friendship was a done deal but apparently not. It might be a week or 10 days between calls, but he does call. After 10 days, I call him. He always picks up or calls back fairly soon. That's a good thing.

Did I mention I do things backwards. Synopsis. Met him. We spent probably 12 hours on the phone in 5 days. He came over - sparks flew. We saw each other regularly for about 10 weeks. He makes a statement that he is getting too attached so better a small hurt now than a big one later, because he ALWAYS gets burned. I figure it's over. He calls.

I haven't seen him in 6 or 7 weeks, the calls are coming more often again. Conversation is less stilted. Okay. Works for me. If I can go 6 years 6 weeks is no biggy ;)

Missed his call Thursday, called him back Friday. Told him where I was Thurs blah blah blah, we rang off. 20 minutes later he called back? In a fairly accusatory manner he questioned how I could take my grandson to a baseball game in the nasty/rain hail storm and then for ice cream? I calmly corrected him and repeated that I went to the grandson's because he was supposed to have a game and he asked me to go, yes I drive through crazy rain and some hail on Elphinstone to get there, the league had not yet called to cancel the game but that was fairly obvious so I took the grands to the store for ice cream.

He then went on about women being untruthful which is why he lives alone and doesn't want a relationship of any kind. NOTE : HE CALLS ME. An I correct him again to say that PEOPLE lie. Wish they wouldn't but they do and rapped of my list of getting burned by men (2 engagements 2 divorces and misc). Not having a leg to stand on he agrees and the conversation continues.

But now I'm actually angry. Don't get me wrong - I like him and consider him my friend but this is not an invested "relationship" for me. This conversation, some opposite gender attention that makes me feel all womanly, and some really great sex. And it would be great if he thought the same - even though it is what he professes.

So I asked him if he was seeing anyone? No. He asked me and I said no the only man that I've seen since we started visiting is you. But you haven't seen me in awhile he says to me. What so he thinks I'll just run out and find someone else??? stupid man.

My response:I have told you no every time you ask and the point here is that until you decide that you will trust what I say I am aware that you will not believe me. Nor will you believe anyone I know because you have decided in your head that I - like all the other women in your life will burn you too. I am not like that. I do not see two men at the same time, poor form.

And then I told him that I was NOT looking for the relationship, but enjoyed his company and conversation and the great sex. I also told him I had some patience and was willing to wait and see if he could get past his instinct to find reality.

So he changed the subject and about half an hour later said he'd call me tomorrow and we rang off.

I missed his call today as I was at a bbq.

So that's 3 calls in 3 days and the first argument. I'm fair dinkum sure he got the message. The question is how much patience do I want to have here?

If only I had never been in his shoes.

textures

Live sun warmed mahogany, supple and smooth yet strong and flexible with its years solidly rooted in the here and now. Aubergine rich bitterness until salted raising questions all along the taste buds. Doubled velvet so soft it mimics fur without the sneezing. Melodious tones and belly warming chuckles that ignite a smile from the inside out. Spicy hot aromas floating from the kitchen playing olfactory tug of war with the cinnamon of flesh and murmurs from the deeps.

today is a full moon

I always want to go out and howl this time in the lunar cysle, and often find myself having gone that extra step or two over the line, usually with video proof, ecause I always tell the peeps that they are exaggerating. Gotta love technology ;) But then I have a camera TOO>

Wish me luck - I have to get through an entire 3 day weekend in the rain. I know I'm drip dry but honestly ... what about the hair?

sugar

I simply want to reach out and gobble you up.

But I'm not allowed.

That sucks.

oh my!

Sometimes I should just shut my pie hole. Not everyone wants to hear the questions I have to ask, and in fact I seem most pressed to ask those who will react worst most. Got it? The content is details.

Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.

Just don't.

progress?

The ongoing saga:

I called mr. sunshine on Friday and he had plans to watch the hockey game so I made plans to go out and visit some friends I hadn't seen for a bit. It had been a crazy week at work and I'd mostly stayed in of an evening fighting with my insomnia. So when my nephew called and asked me to come down to the pub cause my friends were wondering where I was, away I went. After the pub we hit the gaslight and later the club, and I was home round 1:30. Saturday did some running around and kept it on the down low.

Sunday at 8:20 in the morning mr. sunshine calls. I missed it because I was in the basement doing laundry, so I called him back when I got upstairs. It was kind of strange and really very early to be calling on a sunday, especially mother's day, but whatever. We had a lovely chat about what had gone on during the week, caught up on what we'd been doing and Seth's ball game and the playoffs etc. I told him my plans for the day and he shared his. Regular stuff. He got interrupted with call irritating and then he called me back. We talked for a while longer and then rang off.

But why so early? On a sunday? Just seemed strange.

Mom's day

I miss my mom with all my heart. Sometimes I don't think about her for weeks on end I'm sure, and that's okay, she's been gone almost 18 years. But then there are those moments when I get a flash out of the corner of my eye and I am absolutely positive to the center of my being that she just turned a corner down the street.

And there I stand frozen, amid the rush of downtown pedestrians, lost in enough misery it's all I can do to stand there and not sob. An island of emptiness in the flow of everyday life. It fades, what seems like hours was only a minute or two, but damn.

And then there are the occasions like my grandotter's 10th birthday that I really wish she could have celebrated with us. She would have been so proud of the job Amanda is doing and loved Miss Devi to bits.

I was at the park yesterday watching some families of geese with the teeny newborn goslings all fluffy yellow and got a warm fuzzy thinking that mom would have been taking that picture too.

Mom, your image may not be in my brain any longer but your laughter will forever peal in my heart and your compassion is a constant reminder to live doing the least damage.

Love you always.

passive defiance

Thank you Ghandiji.

The persistence of flowing water will etch new rivers in the bedrock. The mindless unrelenting pressure of gravity births diamonds.

Here I stand.

listening

The meter of raindrops hitting pavement, air redolent with new grown grass.
Radiators in the last throws of k-chinking before their seasonal nap.
Creaks in moisture locked doors and squeaky winter locked windows.

Morning surprise,
a whitened world, crunchy underneath quickly melting slightly frozen water.

My sunshine is still missing.