Ready?
Set?
Go.
Hot legs? Even hotter heart. I'm too hot too handle all the way around. Got a bucket of water? Nope, even more intense than the coffin company burning down back in the early 90's. Or, that grease fire that started in the kitchen? Burned the mansion all the way to the ground. Lady Marmalade wondered "How do bad things happen to good people?" Well, for one, you're runnin all over New Orleans feedin' defenseless men Magnolia Wine. (I stall, bc, I wonder, how I can get in on that action?) You, Lady, send them home to their "gray, flannel, lives", (your words, not mine) and they long for your sweet touch. So that's why. Your justification.
Project Mayhem? Is sweeping through? The first rule? Well, sailor, you already know the line.
I'm pretty sure, I don't owe an arm and a leg to you. You have your own!!! Hmm? This reality is making me work myself to the bone. Aggravated when my hair falls down. I need everything in place, otherwise, its pure shit.
Is Saturday night alright for fightin'? Nah. Wednesday seems perfectly ok with me. Hold on, let me pencil it in? What's that? A pencil? Oh, it's a stick, with lead inside it. Some of em have erasers on the ends. Hmm? Oh, yeah, you have a Blackberry. I have a strawberry!!! Oh, It's not the same? You are so right, I got this one from a slip and slide.... Still not the right thing? The carton of strawberries are sitting in the fridge....Still not it? Well, somebody's gotta make pie for her brother in law!!! Might as well be me. (Those are the only berries, I dig.) (I see no purpose for berries in my "lack" of electronics.)
Back to your Blackberrrrry, when did we all become so self serving, self righteous, and so full of THINGs? I get it. I want things. I even went shopping for myself. Couldn't buy the one THING I had been really just wanting. I fed on the guilt of the splurge. I fed on the dissapointment of not giving in. I had Ghost-limb, buyer's remorse.
Whoops. Even more to know. I am the selfish of the selfish, and I wear a crown too heavy for my frame. I find myself hoarding my alone time all of a sudden. Hiding in the woods, literally. Lady bird giving away my camp. Daddy looked at me and asked, what's wrong baby?
Like a wide-eyed doe, I looked at Daddy and said, nothing, right now. He said, ok, if you say so. Don't stay out here too late. You didn't bring enough fuel for the lantern. Busted. And confirmed. There's not a man out there who can ever preform the miracle of taking care of me.
Sound hoity toidy?
maybe.
(High five Josh Nason, I am a Daddy's girl, and didn't take any offense to you saying so when we were sitting in y'alls living room.)( You see the true respect I have for my Daddy.)
Its a little more, that's where I want to be, so that's where I am. Stitching holes in the knees of my jeans? Big, huge, patches. My emotions are not so raw this week.
Day? 54? Not really.
I am counting down from something that is nonexistent.
A day, that has never really happened.
My view? Is straight up the driveway. Sitting in my faux beach chair lovingly purchased from Pier 1, circa 1999. Still obnoxious. Still one of the most uncomfortable things I continue to claim to love. I actually turned on the air conditioner. Shocked, I know. Champ had broken out into a little heat rash, but felt better after his bath. Pete and I barked back and forth. Pete, is my miracle worker of stylist. Well, he assists in making my hair incredible. Listen, the secret to my beautiful hair? Is..... drum roll....not fighting against it. Not using a flat-iron, letting it air dry. Which, half of the haircut was discussed on how to look effortless, and we concluded with, (ding-ding), let it air dry. I think its mostly the climate as of late.
When I rode shot gun in the car, I didn't stare out the window, long to be far away. I was pleased with everything, I didn't desperately think about anything, over and over. I focused on the positive. I turned my phone off to sleep. I looked forward. I had, nice thoughts. Today, I didn't wish for another life. Or, think about the tragic moments. I didn't examine every blade of grass, I just saw the yard.
I spent time with Ladybird. (she rolled in the grass)
I did read. (my favorite thing)
My love affair with words. The meanings, their sounds, the emotion and passion that can be served up, with only words. Never ending.
My life is, endearing and romantic at this time. It may not seem that way to the naked eye.
You are untrained!!!! Your vision, will improve, continue with an RX of constant communication.
Things are changing. My Summer could be perceived as Fall.
Thank you for reading. Peeking through my clouds.
I don't know why, this situation, popped up today. I thought about a time when thomas and I were married, and I had a taste of his anger before. Now, dear, I would walk on hot coals, to avoid any discontent. (couldve saved my burned soles) This story is not, for you to feel bad, have pity, or be mad at so and so. IT is, to just tell it. I had come home from work and started supper, when the phone rang. I answered.
P: Hello?
T: What is your God damned problem?
P: What? What are you talking about?
T: Why didn't you call on your way home?
P: I did. I called your phone, and I called the store.....
T: You could have text messaged me. I didn't know where you were.
P: I started supper as soon as I got home, I haven't even changed clothes,
T: (Interrupting me) Paula, you need to get your shit together, I swear, just call me and tell me
what the fuck you're doing. Love you.
That, baby, is not exaggeration. And telling. The GD's, what the fuck, who the fuck, how the fuck's were like unwanted complaint's from your pain in the ass renter.
I know, you have heard me say, how thankful I am. And, its true. More and more. The facade of it all is that he wanted me to believe, he cared about me. In love. When the truth of it all, was he cared about his own skin, and controlled my every move.
(Planning other's predestination, is fool's gold)
Why the fuck am I bringing this up? Maybe I need to discuss it today, maybe, I just am having this transfixed moment of appreciation of how far I have traveled.
I would be anxious, I was anxious, almost every second of our marriage. After THE FIGHT. Married less than 2 months, the shit, hit. Hard. I was anxious, and nervous from that point on, but happy. Right?
That's horribly wrong. Every bit. Things that make me/you, nervous/anxious, in a, hand wrenching, heart pounding sense, is wrong. Its wrong.
I'm not the only one. You probably have/or will see a situation, that, in fact, you work through,because it is the right thing to do, you love someone/something, you would rather sacrifice that little thing called your own version of Jiminy Cricket. (Conscious) (Pinocchio)
Work on that part of you. The hard rocks, the jaunty cliffs, need to be addressed. (See Titanic)
The freedom to admit, it is wrong.(Its complicated to face)
Listen, I know the title of my blog, is, I love you, BUT....
I do love you. Without buts.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Here We Go
Listen, I know, I know, I said it before, gonna say it again, quote Bob Dylan, over, and over, The times, they are a changin'. Simplicity, I am awkwardly in love with. If you look for me, I am bound to be found. Walking with Sue, complimenting, never-ending. These friendships, that I FIEND for, keep me alive. You need to be chased. I am a Pandora's Box. I feel as if I am. I miss feelings, and first kisses. I become embarrassed when I think of the realationships I have fucked up. And I have. We forget, it does take 2. Oh yes, not everything is my fault, and the sheer thought of me being a domineering, hateful juice box, just isn't my caliber. I have said things, and done things, that were, questionable? I have existed on pure human emotion. I have, been berating myself for not being enough Spock. (yeah, honey, that Spock.)
I think, you know, I have sacrificed, made others happy before myself, and, I have lied before, to protect my own ass. See? Human? Terrified.
Is it such a bad thing, that I have not been "pollinated"? Is it so bad, that the fruit I produce, isn't a child. (so far) It sure is. Am I sick of living a gypsy lifestyle? At times. I wouldn't mind so much, if I had a partner in the mix.(Jumping into muddle puddles?)
Red blooded men, please apply. With caution. I tend to jump head over feet, meaning, I have had sex on the first date. Is that awful? No. I have been the girl that has held out, and not even thought of slipping off my panties. Where did both situations land me? On my fucking ass, that's where. Insert, trial and error face, here.
Turning corners.
I think, you know, I have sacrificed, made others happy before myself, and, I have lied before, to protect my own ass. See? Human? Terrified.
Is it such a bad thing, that I have not been "pollinated"? Is it so bad, that the fruit I produce, isn't a child. (so far) It sure is. Am I sick of living a gypsy lifestyle? At times. I wouldn't mind so much, if I had a partner in the mix.(Jumping into muddle puddles?)
Red blooded men, please apply. With caution. I tend to jump head over feet, meaning, I have had sex on the first date. Is that awful? No. I have been the girl that has held out, and not even thought of slipping off my panties. Where did both situations land me? On my fucking ass, that's where. Insert, trial and error face, here.
Turning corners.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Fantastically Bitchy
Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin', Clementine. The name of this post, I read earlier, I wish it were mine, because then the scrutiny would shine through. Listen, Babe. I am laying face down, hopes up, and possibly on another roll. You see, maybe you have gotten behind. Maybe, as you drive in your car, you were gonna make a call, but then, your all-time favorite jam came on the radio, so you decided, you would wait. Then you had to meet for salad, and thought, it may be too early. Never mind. You recheck your watch? 11:30. May be in bed. Call tomorrow. Then, in the middle of the night, as faithful as a golden retriever, you have a dream that incurred from drinking too much Dr. Pepper. You wistfully lie in bed, and know now, it is too late. This whole thing is describing someone else's situation as they sit still and read the words, and feel utterly, and hopelessly accused.
Wouldn't it be nice? (The Beach Boys, always linger, and especially, Pet Sounds, brilliant album) My day was a blur, the night, the same. I sat outside, pulled my sweater around me a little tighter, and listened to the sound of the electric fence, like a metronome, keeping time. The moon was hidden by the clouds, and I wanted to hide right along with it. Bev had called, and asked if I had put a spell on anyone with my "bedroom" eyes. I choked on my Dos Equis. I laughed. I told her, no, no one is bewitched by this girl today, as far as I know. She said, you wait, and I directly quote this mad woman, " You allow married men, men with girlfriends, and possibly a gay or two, question their commitment to their partner." Well, God Bless America. That, my sweet, made me laugh harder. I got off the phone with wined-up Beverly, (she visits the mountain winery too much) and told her to get in the bed and go to sleep. This was 12:45ish.
Who wants to be that Jezebel anyway?( I really think she meant more along the lines of Homer, and the Odyssey.)
And that Muskadine wine? Always makes her talk out of her head. (Yeah, you, Bev.)
My conversation with Sue was a little more realistic, and certainly, in this world, and not in the boundaries of "String Theory", real or imagined. We discussed perception, and how it is different for everyone. The depths? Very deep. Which, I needed. I am, transcended by space, and time. My frame of mind, is set in other worlds, and truth. Did I cry? Yes. I cried. My understanding, and my frailty, will rise to the top, because, my emotions, are easily wrought. In a wonderful way. When others cant say how they feel. When others don't want to say how they feel. I hold back, when I think I'm scaring someone like a fainting goat. (Did you know they shot an episode of WildBoys in New Market?) I try, to use discretion.
With Sue, Angie, my fire-starter, I can, tell you, and not worry. I am not anxious, when I let it all out to you. I suppose I should write a magnificent Opus. An Ode To Crowns. Ha.
My thoughts? If I won the lotto, I would take care of my family, first. I would go to The Galapagos. I would, drive the same car, but have the headlights replaced. I would, need a jeep for the dogs. I don't believe, I will ever hit big numbers. It would be terrifying. To hold so much. when I have a little extra cash, I am loosey goosey. Would the greedy, human part of me, overtake my sweet spirit? My Tenderhearted nature? (Batman -Two Face? - Become a DC Comics character?)
You see, my dear, I have let go of everything. I have been in the wilderness. I have, and continue to roam. Encourage my homeland to show itself. I am very much Christopher Columbus. Spreading the maps along the ground, marking the places I long to find.
Proving theories. Proving theories. Those words are as sweet as honey in my mouth.
Tragic, huh? I see the girls in their heels, gorgeous. Painted. I see myself, pale in comparison, at times. Someone, I don't speak to, something they said, constantly bangs in my head, when I compare my short, cute, self to other breathtakingly beautiful gazelles of ladies. This soul, had uttered, "You're just not the type of girl you find at a bar. You, are set apart." I still take that as a compliment. I hope to be described as the girl on the song. (My Morning Jacket, Librarian.)
I feel challenged. Not like a mentally ill person, (Iron Maiden, Self titled, 1980.) Just, provoked. Like a wild piousness snake in the middle of her strike. You see, we all have to eat to live. Whether we strangle our kill, inject the sweet venom into the bloodstream.....
We are all predators. Lying in wait. (Even, you, pushed down in the mud. Fuck, you're the one to really watch for.) Am I camouflaged? Not nearly enough.
Great Neil Patrick Harris. Just keepin' it between the lines, son.
As I read, elbows propped, I glance over, and look down my arm. Freckles. Everywhere. Am I bewitched so easily? I suppose. Is it you who is putting spells on me? In the dark cauldron, you spoon the liquid, I take it in. Am I mislead? Hansel and Gretel making their way through the forest. One of my all time favorites. (Grimm's.) Right into the oven.
Wouldn't it be nice? (The Beach Boys, always linger, and especially, Pet Sounds, brilliant album) My day was a blur, the night, the same. I sat outside, pulled my sweater around me a little tighter, and listened to the sound of the electric fence, like a metronome, keeping time. The moon was hidden by the clouds, and I wanted to hide right along with it. Bev had called, and asked if I had put a spell on anyone with my "bedroom" eyes. I choked on my Dos Equis. I laughed. I told her, no, no one is bewitched by this girl today, as far as I know. She said, you wait, and I directly quote this mad woman, " You allow married men, men with girlfriends, and possibly a gay or two, question their commitment to their partner." Well, God Bless America. That, my sweet, made me laugh harder. I got off the phone with wined-up Beverly, (she visits the mountain winery too much) and told her to get in the bed and go to sleep. This was 12:45ish.
Who wants to be that Jezebel anyway?( I really think she meant more along the lines of Homer, and the Odyssey.)
And that Muskadine wine? Always makes her talk out of her head. (Yeah, you, Bev.)
My conversation with Sue was a little more realistic, and certainly, in this world, and not in the boundaries of "String Theory", real or imagined. We discussed perception, and how it is different for everyone. The depths? Very deep. Which, I needed. I am, transcended by space, and time. My frame of mind, is set in other worlds, and truth. Did I cry? Yes. I cried. My understanding, and my frailty, will rise to the top, because, my emotions, are easily wrought. In a wonderful way. When others cant say how they feel. When others don't want to say how they feel. I hold back, when I think I'm scaring someone like a fainting goat. (Did you know they shot an episode of WildBoys in New Market?) I try, to use discretion.
With Sue, Angie, my fire-starter, I can, tell you, and not worry. I am not anxious, when I let it all out to you. I suppose I should write a magnificent Opus. An Ode To Crowns. Ha.
My thoughts? If I won the lotto, I would take care of my family, first. I would go to The Galapagos. I would, drive the same car, but have the headlights replaced. I would, need a jeep for the dogs. I don't believe, I will ever hit big numbers. It would be terrifying. To hold so much. when I have a little extra cash, I am loosey goosey. Would the greedy, human part of me, overtake my sweet spirit? My Tenderhearted nature? (Batman -Two Face? - Become a DC Comics character?)
You see, my dear, I have let go of everything. I have been in the wilderness. I have, and continue to roam. Encourage my homeland to show itself. I am very much Christopher Columbus. Spreading the maps along the ground, marking the places I long to find.
Proving theories. Proving theories. Those words are as sweet as honey in my mouth.
Tragic, huh? I see the girls in their heels, gorgeous. Painted. I see myself, pale in comparison, at times. Someone, I don't speak to, something they said, constantly bangs in my head, when I compare my short, cute, self to other breathtakingly beautiful gazelles of ladies. This soul, had uttered, "You're just not the type of girl you find at a bar. You, are set apart." I still take that as a compliment. I hope to be described as the girl on the song. (My Morning Jacket, Librarian.)
I feel challenged. Not like a mentally ill person, (Iron Maiden, Self titled, 1980.) Just, provoked. Like a wild piousness snake in the middle of her strike. You see, we all have to eat to live. Whether we strangle our kill, inject the sweet venom into the bloodstream.....
We are all predators. Lying in wait. (Even, you, pushed down in the mud. Fuck, you're the one to really watch for.) Am I camouflaged? Not nearly enough.
Great Neil Patrick Harris. Just keepin' it between the lines, son.
As I read, elbows propped, I glance over, and look down my arm. Freckles. Everywhere. Am I bewitched so easily? I suppose. Is it you who is putting spells on me? In the dark cauldron, you spoon the liquid, I take it in. Am I mislead? Hansel and Gretel making their way through the forest. One of my all time favorites. (Grimm's.) Right into the oven.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Smile Pretty
That's the theme for the day. Day 1. Starting over. Smile pretty. Look how far you have traveled verses how far away from where you want to be. Now on occasion, I do take a load off, and look down that gravel road I have been walking on. Believe it or not, I really don't take everything so seriously. Honest. I'm in a boat. But, not the one everyone else is on. I will stop staring at black trucks, '78-'79 Corvettes the way a man looks at a woman, I refuse to stare at the efficient little hybrids. Day 1. I have not been praying, and therefore, I am right back where I knew I would land once again. Hope, no desert. Not, back in baby's arms.
I helped with surgery, assisted with bringing pups into the world. Their little mouths, straining to open, we cleaned their little throats, suctioning the afterbirth out of their breathing devices. When animals are born, via c-section, it can be very hard for them to breathe, not every surgery is difficult, but it is such a precious moment. The very second, pulled out of their mothers, struggling. Sometimes, even when you have cleaned their goozles, the babies, may not be breathing. We do a technique of kind of cradling them in our hands, and doing a quick sweep down motion. It helps clear them out, it assists in their breathing. I may need a little sweeping motion myself.
Monster Truck Rally this weekend? Nah. Not for me. Hmm? Oh, yes, it would be a blast, but, I'm not in the mood. What's that? Oh yes, an art exhibit would be a little more appropriate. I found my niche. I found the mood I desire often. Not quite touching the earth, barley orbiting around.
My Thesaurus? Is under the mattress, with some pages missing. Words, that I do not believe need any more explanations. Or, coffee stained. Pages, with pieces missing. Underlined, highlighted. Notes stuffed, here and there.
I need to get things done. Started. Processing. View my goal through the kaleidoscope. Take in the colors, and wonder of it all. Write down the expression that fuels me. You see, most words fire me up. Not with anger, sometimes remorse. Sometimes, fire, ignites under me, and I resolve to let it continue to fuel me.
I know how the forest feels when it doesn't rain. The cracking sounds the wood makes, when it needs a sip of water. My Daddy's Farm? Is so gorgeous right now. I know, it's been raining, it kind of stormed last night, but everything is so green, full of promise. Today is a beautiful day, even though, it's reminiscent of Seattle to some. To me, it's that sweet transition of Spring/Summer in Tennessee. In my neck of the woods. In my sweet escape.
This will be my devotional of the day. I recreated some good intentions, and could have layed in the hammock this morning, but it's so wet outside. I feel like Beethoven on Redbull. Kinda Disney movie, all of them trying to teach you a lesson, at the same time, digging the knife deeper. I need just a little. Waiting for the triumph. I refuse to feel as if the malfunction is showing today. Refuse. I'm not upset, just on a roll.
If it could be sushi roll, I would prefer. So, why take it so seriously? Because, sweetheart. It is serious. Serious business of my life. Every second is fleeting. Getting away from us all. In the middle of the gnashing of teeth and nagging? We let it go. Like a balloon. We suffer so greatly with not a bit of effort. Seems to come naturally, and I beg to look at it.
Who knew this is who I would be? Right now, in this season of my life. The wine has already been poured. I may leave right now. I'm fighting like hell to get rid of the lump in my throat. I'm thrashing wildly to not care so much about things to touch, feel, and do. It feels exactly like I live on the beach, and can taste the salt on my lips. If I could.
Have I been holding my breath so long, I finally passed out? I f you did sneak out of the house to meet me for a moment, I embraced the longing. I embraced the forbidden fruit. You had used the phrase tortured, and it was the sweetest thing I had ever heard.
Tied to the apron strings? Not us. We are a dying breed, or a hiding breed, just like the Vampires. I have at least 7 books open, and reading. One about the Holocaust. 4 of them? Recommended by friends, and borrowed.
Ron Burgundy? Not present today.
My wild state of mind has nothing to do with Will Ferrell, or the thigh trembling Vince Vaughn. My wild state of mind has to do with my wild state of affairs. Not on a ledge, not angry at anything, just Paula. Wide eyed, careful, Paula.
Carnal would be a perfect word to describe me today. Carnal, is the way to live. Pale knuckles? Look at my hands, relaxed as a sleeping lamb.
I helped with surgery, assisted with bringing pups into the world. Their little mouths, straining to open, we cleaned their little throats, suctioning the afterbirth out of their breathing devices. When animals are born, via c-section, it can be very hard for them to breathe, not every surgery is difficult, but it is such a precious moment. The very second, pulled out of their mothers, struggling. Sometimes, even when you have cleaned their goozles, the babies, may not be breathing. We do a technique of kind of cradling them in our hands, and doing a quick sweep down motion. It helps clear them out, it assists in their breathing. I may need a little sweeping motion myself.
Monster Truck Rally this weekend? Nah. Not for me. Hmm? Oh, yes, it would be a blast, but, I'm not in the mood. What's that? Oh yes, an art exhibit would be a little more appropriate. I found my niche. I found the mood I desire often. Not quite touching the earth, barley orbiting around.
My Thesaurus? Is under the mattress, with some pages missing. Words, that I do not believe need any more explanations. Or, coffee stained. Pages, with pieces missing. Underlined, highlighted. Notes stuffed, here and there.
I need to get things done. Started. Processing. View my goal through the kaleidoscope. Take in the colors, and wonder of it all. Write down the expression that fuels me. You see, most words fire me up. Not with anger, sometimes remorse. Sometimes, fire, ignites under me, and I resolve to let it continue to fuel me.
I know how the forest feels when it doesn't rain. The cracking sounds the wood makes, when it needs a sip of water. My Daddy's Farm? Is so gorgeous right now. I know, it's been raining, it kind of stormed last night, but everything is so green, full of promise. Today is a beautiful day, even though, it's reminiscent of Seattle to some. To me, it's that sweet transition of Spring/Summer in Tennessee. In my neck of the woods. In my sweet escape.
This will be my devotional of the day. I recreated some good intentions, and could have layed in the hammock this morning, but it's so wet outside. I feel like Beethoven on Redbull. Kinda Disney movie, all of them trying to teach you a lesson, at the same time, digging the knife deeper. I need just a little. Waiting for the triumph. I refuse to feel as if the malfunction is showing today. Refuse. I'm not upset, just on a roll.
If it could be sushi roll, I would prefer. So, why take it so seriously? Because, sweetheart. It is serious. Serious business of my life. Every second is fleeting. Getting away from us all. In the middle of the gnashing of teeth and nagging? We let it go. Like a balloon. We suffer so greatly with not a bit of effort. Seems to come naturally, and I beg to look at it.
Who knew this is who I would be? Right now, in this season of my life. The wine has already been poured. I may leave right now. I'm fighting like hell to get rid of the lump in my throat. I'm thrashing wildly to not care so much about things to touch, feel, and do. It feels exactly like I live on the beach, and can taste the salt on my lips. If I could.
Have I been holding my breath so long, I finally passed out? I f you did sneak out of the house to meet me for a moment, I embraced the longing. I embraced the forbidden fruit. You had used the phrase tortured, and it was the sweetest thing I had ever heard.
Tied to the apron strings? Not us. We are a dying breed, or a hiding breed, just like the Vampires. I have at least 7 books open, and reading. One about the Holocaust. 4 of them? Recommended by friends, and borrowed.
Ron Burgundy? Not present today.
My wild state of mind has nothing to do with Will Ferrell, or the thigh trembling Vince Vaughn. My wild state of mind has to do with my wild state of affairs. Not on a ledge, not angry at anything, just Paula. Wide eyed, careful, Paula.
Carnal would be a perfect word to describe me today. Carnal, is the way to live. Pale knuckles? Look at my hands, relaxed as a sleeping lamb.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Owl
I don't know if I made the choice not to sleep, or if I wasn't sleepy, or if I couldn't sleep. It was a tough choice to make. I was up and down. Ready to rest, but sure, something was about to unfold. My hair is so wavy and thick, with all the humidity, and my refusal to to turn on the air conditioner. I couldn't hear the sounds of the outside, so you might as well smite me. the windows up, suits me so much better. Am I hot? If it's too much, I take off my toboggan.
Before all of this began, I was scrubbing the tub, listening to something as awful as The Black Eyed Peas. The radio stations are different here, and, being such a sucker for the physical things of the past, oddities? I listen to this huge boom box radio that had been in the barn, circa 1970 somethin'. It picks up this one station I love, but on occasion, it throws in a tune, that is too plain, or main. It obviously made me scrub harder. I was transfixed on the fact that the "something" in the back ground wasn't what I wanted. So I focused on the one thing that was making me as docile as a crocodile.
Sometimes, caught in the web of the Black Widow. When, I should always be reminiscent of the sweet spider, herself, in Charlotte's Web. I remember 4th gradish, that was a go-to movie. It always made me cry, even as a 8 year old.
Was my fortune unfolding, before I could even have a handle on it? Did the Gypsy, have my hand, before I had any assistance on cultivating my fate on my own? I'm just not so sure.
Hold on loosely, but don't let go. 10 points, if you can name the title, and lead singer.
Ok, you can include the band name.
Before all of this began, I was scrubbing the tub, listening to something as awful as The Black Eyed Peas. The radio stations are different here, and, being such a sucker for the physical things of the past, oddities? I listen to this huge boom box radio that had been in the barn, circa 1970 somethin'. It picks up this one station I love, but on occasion, it throws in a tune, that is too plain, or main. It obviously made me scrub harder. I was transfixed on the fact that the "something" in the back ground wasn't what I wanted. So I focused on the one thing that was making me as docile as a crocodile.
Sometimes, caught in the web of the Black Widow. When, I should always be reminiscent of the sweet spider, herself, in Charlotte's Web. I remember 4th gradish, that was a go-to movie. It always made me cry, even as a 8 year old.
Was my fortune unfolding, before I could even have a handle on it? Did the Gypsy, have my hand, before I had any assistance on cultivating my fate on my own? I'm just not so sure.
Hold on loosely, but don't let go. 10 points, if you can name the title, and lead singer.
Ok, you can include the band name.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
My Game
Wow. Just wow. Here we are again. I'm anxious. Thinking about whiskey. Feeling honored. I have been Miss Cussypants. Really saying phrases that only sailors, and maybe lumberjacks should utter.
Sue, my Sue, my Sue. Rendered me speechless through a text message. A text message!!! Asking me, your local Muppet Baby, to write the foreword in her photography book, if it ever happens.
Now listen closely, and read carefully. Pretend to be me for just a second. Prepare for a shift, being me, is overwhelming. The vision changes, dramatically. And, you feel extra tiny.
Listen, my Sue, is so talented, my words, couldn't even touch the pure wonder of what she creates. Her eye is so extra revolutionary, its nothing to be taken lightly.
I know, now, I know, SHE said, one day, it could, maybe happen.
What really twirls the pasta in my bowl?
Is she, she, fucking believes in me, as much as I believe in her.
Hang on, we are going down a side street.
On a motorcycle.
Through a jungle.
My Angie!!!! I fucking miss her. I haven't been able to see her, much less talk to her, and I need her. I need her to take a walk with me on the wild side, have a picnic, wear galoshes, examine necrotic skin, lust after handsome men at the Ingles with me, use me as an excuse, write a long love letter to, I just fucking need her.
See? Cussypants.
When can it happen? Not going to a wedding in Charlotte this weekend. Am staying put as far as I know. Maybe invited to come see you. Hiking in NC tomorrow, after my meeting. Maybe butter the corn on both sides. We should grill out. I think so. Whatever. I am somehow going swimming this week. In a creek or river, in the mountains, I am, going to lay out, and let the freckles rise to the top. I'm sure of it. I miss you, and I'm just going to leave it at that.
Some thing's about to change. I can feel it.
Sue, my Sue, my Sue. Rendered me speechless through a text message. A text message!!! Asking me, your local Muppet Baby, to write the foreword in her photography book, if it ever happens.
Now listen closely, and read carefully. Pretend to be me for just a second. Prepare for a shift, being me, is overwhelming. The vision changes, dramatically. And, you feel extra tiny.
Listen, my Sue, is so talented, my words, couldn't even touch the pure wonder of what she creates. Her eye is so extra revolutionary, its nothing to be taken lightly.
I know, now, I know, SHE said, one day, it could, maybe happen.
What really twirls the pasta in my bowl?
Is she, she, fucking believes in me, as much as I believe in her.
Hang on, we are going down a side street.
On a motorcycle.
Through a jungle.
My Angie!!!! I fucking miss her. I haven't been able to see her, much less talk to her, and I need her. I need her to take a walk with me on the wild side, have a picnic, wear galoshes, examine necrotic skin, lust after handsome men at the Ingles with me, use me as an excuse, write a long love letter to, I just fucking need her.
See? Cussypants.
When can it happen? Not going to a wedding in Charlotte this weekend. Am staying put as far as I know. Maybe invited to come see you. Hiking in NC tomorrow, after my meeting. Maybe butter the corn on both sides. We should grill out. I think so. Whatever. I am somehow going swimming this week. In a creek or river, in the mountains, I am, going to lay out, and let the freckles rise to the top. I'm sure of it. I miss you, and I'm just going to leave it at that.
Some thing's about to change. I can feel it.
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