"If I quieted the voices in my head I would face the day with nothing to write."

“The time to begin writing an article is when you have finished it to your satisfaction. By that time you begin to clearly and logically perceive what it is that you really want to say.” Mark Twain.

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.”
― Roald Dahl
Key:
G-Unit=Grandpa
FLS=Favorite Little Sister
Sassy Red head=Shana
True Friend=Laura
Mermaid/Slo/Tripod/Chickas=Shannon 1

Spanish Princess/Tripod/Chicka/Vette =Yvette
#61=Youngest son
Mickey Blue Eyes=Oldest son.
BFTP (Blast from the past)/The last Frontier=gone
Big Jim as himself
Vitamin C as himself
G-Man=Garth/Bossman.

Nick as himself

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Guests

Rails to Ales


I have had many guests in the last couple of days and starting to pick up more and more activities as time progresses.  (See above Rails to Ales) Also might need to change my hours back to the other time schedule I used to use....because instead of 11-7, I have been heading to bed at 12, 1 and 2 then sleeping till 8, 9, 10 and it is messing with my schedule.

I let the man back into my life. The tolling bell can occasionally become quite endearing.

I also have been talking to a potential date. Life has become rather busy at the moment and I'm slacking on the writing of my blog. Also the book has been setting in my mind. Resting restlessly... not yet ready to tackle it again. Waiting still; for some editing and deliberating on it all. Trusting myself to know when the time is right.

The storms have finally passed and suddenly, finally we are settling into some serious summer weather.

And no sooner than I say that... and a thunderstorm rolls in over the foothills.

Sturdy stalks



It is strange how sometimes things sneak up on you. Something stalked me the other day and I found it in my lap this morning. I have been dwelling on it deeply. As always; it is a man that has me thinking this hard. Maybe it is the confluence of all of them. The whole full circle thing. Beginning again in Roslyn where it all ended 4 years ago. It was the end of a marriage that led to this single hood and further experience with men again.The men coming in from all the different locations in my life to meet at where the rivers begin to flow. Where I am now as well. 

I have been running them through my head, clear back to high school. Not going to mention numbers because its not about that but more so about influence and why you do the things you do. Each one I went back in time to each one and thought of some moment with them. A moment that sticks out like a movie, where you remember the details. Some are sharper than others.

It comes down to trying to figure out kissing. Why I do and why I don't. That line in the movie 'Pretty Woman' ran through my head the other day the one where she tells him  'I don't kiss on the lips.'

Because it would imply caring or trust and he was after all just a John. But when it came to my mind why I was not spending time making out and avoiding kissing I had to ask myself ...why? Is their a deeper meaning? But it actually comes down to the same theory as Pretty Woman. To build trust first and then kiss. But sometimes it is about attraction too or lack of it.

Monday, July 16, 2012

A bell tolls and brings a death warrant

For whom the bell tolls. I like that word 'tolls' and the meaning that a tolling bell is for death, a funeral and I like this....

John Donne (1572-1631), Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII: Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris:
"Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that.
 No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee."

So whom do I speak you may ask? I speak for many things in essence but for one person the bell is tolling. I'm pissed today. Still a remnant from yesterday lingering. There is nothing more offensive to me than some young asswipe that thinks he can tell me how to live my life while he is being a hypocrite.

You have the audacity to come into my house while I'm working and tell me we need to have a talk. Not only do you knock and then enter without asking, you help yourself to my beer and cigarettes. Presumptuous. Rude. And homey don't play that way. 

We are friends that are fucking. Plain and simple. I was lectured on keeping my mouth shut to not say anything about whom I'm fucking. While I put up with stinky feet... the drinking of my beer... constant invitations to watch baseball games...woke in the middle of the night by a continuous drunk...uninvited drop-ins. And conversations that were all about him and bad mouthing somebody I care about.  Like an insidious little worm (Insidious..another great word).

I was not really enjoying myself but he was useful. But no not really. Actually he was more irritating than anything. 

But the final couple of straws..

I had a touch of the flu and then heaped the beer flu on top of it. Yesterday was not pretty. 

He is dropped off by a friend for this little 'a talk' and then when I don't put up with it and he backs down. He grabs another beer and sat his ass down in my office while I'm working, with his cock attitude and wants a blowjob? 

Your head almost became removed... fuck the tolling bell, there will be no funeral.




Thursday, July 12, 2012

After the art of fielding


I'm writing again. Could not figure out what was causing the block or lack of desire to work on any writing projects.

Finally figured it out.

I had moved my writing desk out of my office/studio/writing room thinking I did not want work to mix with my creativity. So I moved a writing desk to my bedroom and it was set up so pretty but seemed cluttered. Or the room seemed cluttered with it in it because it is a small bedroom. I just couldn't sit down and write there for long and there was no view. I was always avoiding it and in my office instead.

So yesterday I looked at my office and thought man I miss writing in this room with the view of the street and treeline above the cemetery. The shadows of the blue walls relax me and feel so cool in the summer heat. I Glanced down at the large pile of pine that is my new wood floors and thought that pile of wood is fucking with my creativity.

"Yep," I said out loud to the room "it is definitely fucking with my creativity!" 

Went back down the hall to my bedroom that is painted a happy yellow and glanced at this space at the end of my bed and thought If I moved the wood there to the end of the bed it would be out of the way. Plus I would look at it every time I came in my bedroom and want perhaps to get off my ass and install it.

I started to move all this wood and it is not light or small, down the hall and tucked it in this new space. Now the writing desk was even more cluttered in this small room. So this morning I moved my writing desk back into my office and BOOM like a crack of thunder it was all back. Creativity... desire... and the urge. I thought it might feel cluttered in the office with two desks and my drafting table but each work space has its own purpose for creativity and where my writing desk sits now I have an even better view then I had before and BOOM... like I have already stated the creativity is back and I opened my writing and meandering file and started in on it all again.

I have been having a little affair filled with good fun clean sex. Last night I took some UPT from work to go and watch his baseball game. He is the coach for the Bricks team and after the game we headed to the Brick to enjoy pitchers of beer and baseball chit chat. Then later headed to my house and as we leaned against the porch our arms touching as they rested on the base of the porch. We looked out into the dark night as we smoked and talked some more. I mentioned that I had moved all this wood to my bedroom. He started laughing and shaking his head and said, "why did you do that?"

"Because it was fucking with my creativity."  

He laughed into the night and glanced over at me his green eyes twinkling in the low lights coming from the house. The music of the stereo coming through the copper screen of the summer door. "It was fucking with your creativity?"

"Yep." I replied.

He chuckled again and said "That's actually pretty funny." And said it softly again into the night, "fucking with your creativity," as he shook his head smiling.

But as I write with glee this morning of this epiphany. I have to laugh because it worked. Plus the sex is good. The man can do wonders with his hands, fingers and mouth.

Damn its good to be back to my life.. like I love to live it. The sabbatical lasted 6 days...lmfao...

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Rolling Storms



Sunday as I worked and typed in x-chat with a co-worker she mentioned that her lights were flickering and the wind was howling. I stopped to pause for a second...didn't she just live down the hill in Ellensburg?

I typed back 'aren't you in Eburg'?
'Yep', she replies.
'And it's windy with lightning'?
'Yep'.
'Wow I'm just up the hill in Roslyn what's up'...hmmm.

As I logged off the work computer and turned out the light I made my way to my porch. No wind. In the distance though I could see flashing. Rapid flashing. Yep definitely a lightning storm in the works.

I made a promised phone call for a beer date at the bar. He was at home or at the neighbors anyway and asked if we could stay in and have a beer. 'There is a good storm on outside', I replied. So he walked down the hill in the hot summer night and we moved the wooden bench on my porch to face the East and watched long into the night as it surrounded us yet never got really close. The dense heat filled clouds suctioned themselves to the high ridges that surround us and moved across the state to wake my sister later in the night in Burien.

The wind slowly picked up and some rain fell and we moved to the west end of the porch as the storm made it's way over the Pass. Mixing with and cooling the hot air that had sat in the valley. Sapping any moisture at all left in the ground from our incessant spring rain.