Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Dear You,

You don't read this blog, thank the Heavens, but I will still say this: "Happy 41st Birthday." Sure it's not until the 27th, but really, enjoy.

RCL is someone who has been an inconsistant constant in my life for six years. I so adore him. He has seen me at my highest and has sadly had to endure my lowests. That said, I just love him. We had the perfect night the other eve. A dinner at my pal's restaraunt and then a most sublime concert, collectively serenaded by Robert Francis, my new favorite.

I really wanted to share him with you, because he's good, but maybe not quite good enough? He told me once that I possessed the "trump card." I questioned what that meant and he replied that it was my wit, charm and sense of humor, I had it all. Such a compliment, right? But alas, I still don't quite make the cut for this bloke. Attraction plays a big part in life and relationships and maybe that's where we, ahem, I fall short. Nevertheless, I so appreciate this man, about to be 41 years wise, for having dealt with and even enjoyed my silly company. If you know him, please don't tip him off to this post . . . if you don't, know that he is great. He helped me conquer heartache, even though he plows mine more than occasionally. He is a good soul. If only he would give himself a great gift this year . . . perhaps me? Or at least my companionship.

(weird post, eh)

Sorry, but this cyber template often doubles as my processing platform . . .

Monday, December 21, 2009

Reminders from Pema Chodron

1. No more struggle
Whatever arises, train again and again in seeing it for what it is. The innermost essence of mind is without bias. Things arise and things dissolve forever and ever. Whatever happens, we can look at it with a nonjudgmental attitude. This is the primary method for working with painful situations.

2. Using poison as medicine
When suffering arises, we breathe it in for everybody. This poison is not just our personal misfortune. It's our kinship with all living things, the seed of compassion and openness. Instead of pushing it away or running from it, we breathe in and connect with it fully. We do this with the wish that all of us could be free of suffering.

3. Regarding whatever arises as awakened energy
This reverses our habitual pattern of trying to avoid conflict, trying to smooth things out, trying to prove that pain is a mistake that would not exist in our lives if only we did the right things. This view encourages us to look at the charnel ground of our lives as the working basis for attaining enlightenment.

Excerpted from Three Methods for Working with Uncertainty, Pema Chödrön, Shambhala Sun, March 1997

Saturday, December 19, 2009

the speed of life

Today, like many other days, I felt baffled and perhaps even sad. But sadness has no place in my life, at least I would like to think that. I have people who love and adore me, who respect me, who enrich my daily presence and who simply move me; every day, each day. So why the frown, right? Yeah, I'm trying to wrap my brain around that too. Today I saw Mikey, as I have the pleasure most Saturdays. The menu for this morning's fast breaking was turkey bacon, a Fuji apple the size of a small child's head, and two hard boiled eggs, salted. The cuppa coffee Mikey presented me could not have tasted any better, and temperately sublime. So far, so good, yes? Yes

A man I consider to be a love of my life, on many complicated levels, left 2 compact discs for me to pick up from Fayes. Dated and titled, I couldn't wait to get home and download the music. One disc, a hand crafted mix appropriately titled "mixed bag." The other, a disc of many, many albums. One I already have, others all new. I love new music, old too, but new to me . . . it does feel like Christmas.

And then shopping, in my neighborhood. I found the very earring I was searching for for one of my best girlfriends. Score. Then, Creativity Explored. Wow, this place makes me want to be an artist, in whatever incarnation that might mean. I bought some art, some beautiful wrapping paper and cards so spectacular, they deserve frames. Check marks to the list.

Then laundry, finally! And the sweet company of Molly. She always knows just what to say and when. Her effervescence, her wit, her candor and wisdom make me want to breathe deep breaths. And when I'm with her, I do. We scrolled through an old photo album I found for her at Urban Ore. About half of the pictures had handwriting on the back telling us, the audience, where and when each photo was snapped. The snowy hiking adventure, however, was a trip without a date. Maybe diligent chronological mastery came later for this photographer. Maybe he was scrap-booking when the last roll got developed. Maybe from that point on, all snapshots got a name, a title or at least a location. I can't wait to see and read the stories that Mol will create for these people. She is a story teller, a crafter of time lines and histories. She is an author in real time who gives voice to stories not yet told nor imagined.

Then home. A rather soiled apartment can't house clean laundry. So, scrubbing, wiping, dusting and vacuuming only seemed fair. New sheets, a made bed, I could fall asleep now. But I won't. Tonight I get to see Kim and Ron. Tonight, the sadness that continues to shroud my head like a faint veil, will undoubtedly be lifted. We are going to see an old friend from high school. Past and present, I love when worlds and time lines collide.

And then this sadness, before Kim is even here, has been dissipated yet again. Perhaps momentarily, like my other sweet distractions. Words from Adam. Adam had open heart surgery about a month ago. His humor and his heart are fully intact. It's Adam, who has successfully, for years now, pulled me out of ruts; be they boy based/heartache, career trials and tribulations and plain old self loathing. He is my mentor. That's the word I use to describe him to people, because he is more than my friend, more than a supporter. A mentor, by definition is: "a wise and trusted counselor or teacher." These words ring true, but barely scratch the surface. I am working on compiling a book of Adam. It will include all the letters he has sent me over the years, the decorative discs of theme songs and anthems he sends my way. It will boast newspaper clippings, a ticket stub, a receipt and other papered trails of his teachings, his inspirational text and his creativity. It is, in some ways a reference book and someways a bible. How else could I interpret "The Book of Adam?" I so look forward to completing it, and making sure there are many blank pages to fill, as I have one constant in my life; mail from Adam.

So tonight, I will bid you adieu and say thank you. Thank you to those who showed up for me in more ways than one. Thank you for allowing me to show up and be with you too. Sadness comes and goes, and now it is gone . . . faster than the speed of . . . light.

Friday, November 27, 2009

and thank you too

This year Thanksgiving was so very meaningful. Adam, who you've heard me talk about, who I adore, had open heart surgery on Wednesday. It was yesterday, the day of Thanks, that I was truly able to appreciate so much love and living in my life. Adam is recovering and thanks to technology and his very own spirit, he is still here, still witty and still being sustained by his ever so big heart. Surrounded by true, porch light friends, (those folks I'll still know when I'm 81, sitting and sipping and story telling on my porch, preferably in a swinging bench, much like the one from Fayes, only levitating and back lit by a sunset), I was able to share what it is I'm thankful for. Before enjoying the beautiful bounty of food last night, each guest relayed something/someone they are grateful for. After Hans had us laughing and admiring his love of "rock music and the letter "a," it was time to also share more personal triumphs. Stu, the father of one of our hosts, recalled his thanks. He was grateful to be alive, after having heard from doctors that he wouldn't be around yesterday. He was supposed to be dead months prior to our celebration. But Stu was there, he was alive and well and cherished each breath. I was, and am, grateful for Adam's successful procedure and his never ending generosity. Mark was grateful for California, as am I. Mikey was thankful for Cinderella soup and not having to move furniture. Our gratitude ran the gamut, with each acknowledgement filled with love, laughter and longevity.

As of late, I have been reminded of just how very dear people are to me. Of how supremely lucky I am to have such exuberant and honest love in my life. Life, but a brief moment on this simply complex planet of ours, is so precious. I can only hope that the people in my life who I am blessed enough to love, love me back. And so far, those who do, really do, they show up and let me be me, and love me for it, as much as I love them. I reconnected with my ex-boyfriend recently. I realized that he is not the one for me, but that he and I still deserve love and respect, coming from each other. No matter the hardship, the heartbreak nor hereafter, I wish to be, and am, filled with love. Thank you to each person who willingly and willfully receives it. For it is real and true as are you.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Guerrilla style graffiti that says it all. So simple, so true, the old "i love you."

Each time I walk down Dearborn Street, I am greeted by this reminder. I love it. I seek to take this street each chance I get. It's this one way street that also invites me into the secret garden where I so desperately want to get a plot of land. I would try to grow chard, tomatoes, some flowers and maybe even cucumbers so I could make my very own spa water. A little oasis this sweet street is. I love it, and love that it loves me right back.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

2 things . . .

Last night, my dear friend Danica and I spent some quality time (albeit brief). We shopped a charitable event. She purchased the non-profit goods, I promised too, and will! And then she knowingly suggested that I try on a few frocks. Danica is a lover. She loves animals, people, she loves fabric, and apparently my silly, curvy figure. So, upon her informed, style savvy request, I donned some beautiful garments. The one I fell for, that was seemingly made for my wayward frame, I couldn't afford. But also, couldn't afford not to love and then purchase. Upon delegating it to a layway, dream status, we were informed that all clothes in the sore were 30% off, just that night. I had to buy it, and I did. Good thing our holiday party is approaching, otherwise my ever present guilt would be ever encroaching! So here it is, my new found love. And thanks to one Adam Josef, this dress wasn't just a dream deferred, but a reality made clear on a Wednesday in November. Thanks Adam, for more than this dress.

And then, if there wasn't enough love to go around, I happened upon a great guitar player today. He payed me a bit of attention too . . . along with the rest of a small, tourist filled audience who kept asking "who is he?" He is Mat Kearney, and I think I heard one of his songs first as background cues on a sappy TV show, and then via my sweet sister. I got to hear him play 2 great songs and then leave, reaffirmed on love and life. I then made my way off to experience art at SF MOMA that managed to reinstate those same sentiments, via portraiture and paintings from the 1950s and more contemporary decades that couldn't speak to me in more relevant terms. Thank you today. Thank you for providing me with people I love to be surrounded by, for clothes I love to touch and wear, and for sublime art that inspires me. Sometimes I forget that life is good, because I'm seeing to it that I show others how to enjoy it . . . When, really, the only way to share is to know yourself and then grant others such vision. Yesterday and today, I got to see and feel and be the passion that I so love in life. It's good to be free, grand to be independent and phenomenal to be a sponge in this odd circumstance we call "life." Thank you, to whom it may concern . . .
Sweet sighs abounding, smk


Tuesday, October 20, 2009


crazy hair.
crazy family.
crazy love.

I guess it's in my genes (ahem, jeans)

xox smk

Monday, October 5, 2009

and sometimes pictures don't tell the stories we wish they did. capturing moments between moments, I love that about photography. and love that we can assign different stories and realities to little, fleeting images. we can attach emotions that were never really there, and instead pretend. wish these images really spoke to a lovely prom themed party date night, but they're just reminders of an evening ripe with potential, that left a girl who arrived stag, still single after the final dance . . .

Friday, September 25, 2009


these are the heart banners from Heidi and Trevor's nuptials. And tonight I feel nothing less than love. My family will visit soon, and tonight I spent some much needed time with a sublime woman who I couldn't adore any more . . . Hope it lasts, if not I'll just refer to this post. PS: Danica, I thought of you today, and think of you often. When I think of love, you pop up, period.


Friday, September 18, 2009

You're A Wolf « Dangerbird Records

You're A Wolf « Dangerbird Records

Posted using ShareThis

Friday, I'm in Love . . .


With nothing more than a day and the weather and my very own lil head.

Tonight I'm on my way to see a man who calls himself Seawolf. Here's, well, "there's" I suppose, it's above . . . technical dilemmas, his video and song, that I'll be hearing soon at Bimbo's, a truly great SF venue. I'll let you know how the show goes. And guess what? I bought 2 tickets one month ago, and didn't know who I' take, but it didn't really matter. I just wanted to go, ans could have, but it's fun to watch a band, or a film or a public display of affection, with company. How else do we really know that we love what we see or hear, or that we're really moved by something. Often times, I think that calls for a witness. Can I get one?


Tuesday, September 1, 2009

If I needed you . . . would you come to me?

"The rivers like gypsies, down her black canyons fall."

"You will miss sunrise, if you close your eyes."

Today was a day full of Townes, in one little town, my home, San Francisco. It's a city I suppose, but more often than not I feel as though I live in a quaint little town, where I know you and you might know me. I bought a book today, The Ballad of the Late, Great Townes Van Zandt. I introduced myself via the photo section, cheating some may say, but alas, I am a visual gal and loved witnessing the evolution of this person, this man who has effected my life from his early grave.

On my bus ride home, I found myself almost glaring at the passenger seated to my right who talked, incessantly, on her phone; not about the weather, the life and times she lives in, but about nonsense. I sound brash here, right? Well, justifiably so I hope. I care not to hear the intimate details of a stranger's life - in this capacity. I wanted to hear John Kurth, author, and his accounts of knowing Townes, and instead had my mind mottled by someone who never learned manners. Just because you can talk on the phone, doesn't mean you should. Simple. Manners. There are two issues at hand, and before I go on, or hop upon a soapbox not so sturdy, I'll give this disclaimer: I love being connected to people, it's why I write. I am, however, not a fan of the technology that has come to impede solace and is characterized by frivolous and rather empty dialogue. Our voice is a gift, on so many levels, let's say something. If the girl seated beside me had taken a moment to absorb her surroundings by getting lost in a book, or simply watching, as I often do, she might have felt more fulfilled, more connected. Maybe she would know where she was and not risk missing her stop, her destination. Am I ranting, not my goal. Nevertheless, I only wish that the technology we have at our fingertips, worked to bridge gaps, rekindle friendships and share sentiments, rather than reduce us to ease, and vulger simplicity and by extension transform us into hosts who don't request RSVPs but rather demand guests, and audiences and pulpits. Just a thought? Since when did intimate conversations lose their intimacy? Sad day.

To Townes, I can attest that I think he is a man of many words, and I cannot remove myself from his presence today - the printed words that recount his presence and then the voice, his own, that visits me here in my home, as I write. Townes Van Zandt had problems with alcohol and suffered from depression. He was, in my gray eyes, a hopeless romantic; a term my therapist has used more than once to refernce 'parts' of me. I don't think TVZ would have embraced the technological advances that we know today. Matter of fact, I think it would drive him even further into his state of darkness, of deep down creativity. He would still play his guitar in a shed, in a room lit only by candles or new sun. And that is why I read. I read to remember that the ways, dysfunctional some might say, but the real ways nonetheless, of communicating do not come from raunchy quips or one lined isms posted on a friend's blog or shared among overflowing capacities of commuters. Those ways of connecting, come from music, from people and from life . . . a life that I hope doesn't get lost in the shuffle of technology or transient text.

A hypocrite you might say, as I write to you, (!), on my computer? Technology, I attest, isn't bad, it's the way we use it that is a conumndrum. Sharing the beauty of a day that you were blessed enough to witness, and then able to capture and later invite other to experience . . . that's technology at its best. And hopefully I've shared with you some beauty; although many know him as Townes Van Zandt. I know beauty today as this man, as the new baby whose name recalls his words, as friends and the sun; just sun, just everything.

I know beauty when I write. Be it paper and pen, hunt and peck heather typewriting or via my soft to the touch keypad . . . writing is beauty. Talking in your head essentially, and then sharing. Listening can be laced with beauty too. Maybe not on a bus, or maybe only on a bus. Either way, thank you for letting me write, and share. And hopefully connect to you 4 special people I ever think of when I write here. A lover's lullaby I send to you, via Townes.

And thank you also to someone who no longer experiences the beauty I so hope to dole out. To him, I extend gratitude for introducing me to Townes before I met Will Townes. But rest assured Will would have told me all about him, I just hope I can do that for him now . . .

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Where There's a Will . . . maybe there's hay?

According to some . . . "Horseshoes are considered a good luck charm in many cultures. The shape, fabrication, placement, and manner of sourcing are all important. A common tradition is that if a horseshoe is hung on a door with the two ends pointing up then good luck will occur. However, if the two ends point downwards then bad luck will occur." This is the debate we were having while trying to figure out just where to rest the trifecta of horseshoe masses upon the about to burst belly of my best friend. I am so relieved to read on and learn that "Traditions do differ on this point, though. In some cultures, the horseshoe is hung points down (so the luck pours onto you); in others, it is hung points up (so the luck doesn't fall out); still in others it doesn't matter so long as the horseshoe has been used (not new), was found (not purchased), and can be touched. In all traditions, luck is contained in the shoe and can pour out through the ends."

Will Townes was born on August 18th at 4 am, weighing in at 7 lbs and seven ounces. 7 happens to be a lucky number, and my favorite too. And if you subtract 1 from 8 (18 in reverse, the date of Will's birth), you get another 7. Three 7s! Welcome sweet Will, I cannot wait to watch you grow up. I also can't wait til you hear your first Townes Van Zandt song. Maybe then I will have learned how to play one, the one your parents walked down the aisle to, on guitar and will be able to sing it to you and then teach you? You inspire me Will. I think you made me an honorary Auntie too. Here's to you and to a little luck, or a lot, throughout your blessed life.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


equipoise \EE-kwuh-poiz; EK-wuh-\, noun:

1. A state of being equally balanced; equilibrium; -- as of moral, political, or social interests or forces.
2. Counterbalance.

desultory \DES-uhl-tor-ee\, adjective:

1. Jumping or passing from one thing or subject to another without order or rational connection; disconnected; aimless.
2. By the way; as a digression; not connected with the subject.
3. Coming disconnectedly or occurring haphazardly; random.
4. Disappointing in performance or progress.

photo taken at sweet T's new apartment, work is Molly

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

God only knows . . .

. . . what I'd be without you . . .

sometimes we forget, and are then are pleasantly, often randomly, reminded of who we love and who loves us right back . . . know that you are loved now, because it's an unparalleled feeling, and it's true. Thanks Hide for the love and the toasts and for being the best dance partner a girl could ever have. Thanks for such a simple and yet monumental affirmation. mwah.


Friday, May 22, 2009

Friday, a lovely weekend beginning . . .

Hope you all enjoy as much as my Dad enjoyed his baguette!

To Cate, thank you, my lovely! And Matt and T . . . you make a really great baby, let's hope I can do the same some day. Especially since Uncle Will, aka Beef, is so damn good with little people! And that Pammy ain't too shabby either!

My folks came up to visit all of us . . . baby Cate and company. And PS: that lil babe is a miracle, if I could share I would, it's rather personal, but I will say this . . . she is indeed a miracle, yet not like most babies - while they all are in their own right, this lil trooper, and her Mama have survived some serious debacles while in utero, and they managed, both of them, to arrive back to us all just fine. To the powers that be, thanks much, I love them both, and cannot imagine a day without their luminous spirits. Wow, love. What love.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Meet Corey.

While I've been known to elaborate and beat dead horses to a pulp, for now, I'll just introduce you to one mister Corey Capers. He may be, well, is, one of the most influential people I've ever met in my lil' life. Most people get asked this question at the end of their lives . . . "who were the people that had the most profound effect upon you?" Well, I may die tomorrow, hence, this question might be timely. Nevertheless, Corey is a person I would mention today, tomorrow, and even in Heaven, to help plead my case perhaps . . . Because, yep, he's been a bit of an angel to me. He would disagree with any angel parallels, nevertheless, to me, in my life, he has been one of the 5 greatest pillars of support a gal could pine for.

That said, I will let the mystery sit with you . . . and tell you of his sublmine qualities and nature later . . . because there's too much to tell now. A hint: his presence restores my hearts' abnormal beat. His company quells the rampant self doubt that plagues me, his smile automatically transforms my frown - moving it upside down. I love you Corey and can't wait to tell others why they will too . . . .

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

a view from home

and home will soon be here . . . only they'll be more sunshine

Friday, May 1, 2009

Rock and then you too can Roll . . .

Adam loves rock n' roll, ahem, Rock N' Roll. Tonight I received a package in the mail, the most exciting part of my day . . . snail mail that is not a bill, nor a reminder that a certain doctor doesn't accept my insurance so I have to pay up. No cable company promotion, nor 20% discount card to a store I rarely frequent, no, nothing like that. Instead I get a personalized letter, a compact disc with one phenomenal track and some cold hard cash . . . and this time around a check too, made out to yours truly for the specific amount (tax included) that only a salesgirl at Nordstrom could appreciate. Wow, right? I know.

To enlighten and inform you of how very taken care of I can be, not by myself, but by the generosity of others, here's an excerpt from Adam's note:

"Just define your current mission and then keep your eyes and ears on the target in the spotlight. Make sure you try and do it so that someone actually does it. When the odds are against attaining perfection just take a deep breath and give it your best shot. If you make a gaffe and think everybody is thinking what an idiot you are, relax: people are far too busy thinking about themselves to even notice. I know there is a mistake in that sinewy bass line (referencing the awesome track he sent me), I cannot hear it - and neither could he. That's true artistic and personal freedom. There's an influential artist somewhere within you."

Yeah, big sigh. His words always inspire and reflect and remind me that I have a gift, just like you do (wink and a high five). We are not empty saviors, but instead fully capable and soul saviors nonetheless. I have recently learned, and continue to learn everyday, that I cannot save others. Many don't want to be saved, and some, well one in particular, I think may never allow himself the pleasure. Regardless, investing in ourselves, via thick, luxurious mascara or precious therapy, is of paramount concern, right? Yes, I think so. I so hope that soon, I will allow myself to heal, and assume the position as the driver and the provider of the road map. The road map to my better life. I have much assistance, maybe we'll call them back seat drivers, but not the annoying kind, the helpful type, and am so grateful to them (Adam, Mara, Mikey, Molly, Danica, Meg, Corey, T and the fam). Nevertheless, I can't ever be good to nor for them if I am constantly asking and relying upon their strong, yet outside resources. So I'll read the book I've been loaned "You Can Heal Your Life," and I'll wake up each day and do something for myself, which is ultimately something for others, for them - which makes me happy. I love love and love loving people in my life. I just have to get better at one so that I may be the best at the other.

Thank you Adam, for the words, the perfectly laid down bass line, for future mascara, for provisions and therapy and maybe even a new pair of shoes - shoes that will assist me in my walk through this crazy and beautiful and awe inspiring journey most people simply call "life."

Here I go, off to see "the real me."

PS: to better understand my jargon, look up one bassist named John Entwhistle, and the song whose title I know not, but the chorus is "can you see the real me?"

The image above is Rock 'n' Roll sur les Quais de Pari. Paul Almasy (1906 – 2003), was a pioneer of photojournalism. A native of Hungary, Almasy trekked the globe for six decades, amassing 120,000 photos in an exceptionally detailed archive of 20th century history. Stressing content over form in order to educate viewers, Almasy’s photos still exemplify artistic excellence.

Note: Artistic excellence, or as I first read it: "elegance." Here's to us, the artists.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

sunday, bloody saturday

Today, other than my time on the bench. Other than my grand conversations with Lisa and my sweetest hour(s) stolen from and spent with Mol, other than those fine minutes, I was alone. All alone. And, guess what . . . it was fine, it was in fact divine. I sat on my roof in the perfect sun and got an imperfect tan - which happens when you're a white girl. Sure my Mom's Sicilian blood helped me not to burn too bad, but color, I got. A book, The Secret Life of Bees, spoke to me, as did the pigeons. I'm grateful for this day, a day when the only phone call back I got was from my parents. And a text from my best girlfriend who is deservedly sunning herself in Las Vegas with her oh, so awesome Mom. Otherwise, the ten notes I sent out, not spawned of boredom, but of finally having the time to do so, went unreturned. But you know what, I'm alright with that. I've been notorious for not responding immediately, hence this may be my communication karma. Nevertheless, today reminded me that dammit, I am most certainly good company. For myself and by myself. Hopefully my day tomorrow is just as splendid as today's. Although a call or text back would feel real good too.


Saturday, April 11, 2009

woman on wire

I have a fan. How lucky am I? I know this. I am not in a rock band, nor am I a famous artist, hell, my name isn't even that cool - (although, like the Annie Hall's of the world, I do have a film whose name I share. Sadly, however, "my" film is no Annie Hall).

I received a package in the mail the other day. A CD and a note. Both containing reminders and beautiful words of wisdom. I will share with you what Adam has to say. His words often become mantras I try to live by. And these three rules, or suggestions of his, I am most definitely going to abide by.

GOAL: try and work on strengthening your level of openness and hone your sense of fearlessness as you drift away from him.

TRUTH: what is going on with him is not always about you; try and believe that message with all of your soul. bookmark it.

RESIST: the latent urge to try and heal him and everybody else. it needs to be about you and only you now. yes, you.

The note began with this insight about the music:

you just have to take some great country guitar licks that could have blasted right out of the fender telecaster of the late Buck Owens, mix it up with a darn fine soul singer whose first name somehow turned out to be Dobie, and it all seems to work just fine when it is all done. it is nearly as irrational as finding true love itself.

Thank You. The photo he included (see above) in a recent email struck me too. My ex had a tattoo, of barbed wire. It was around one of his ankles, like a shackle. Homemade at a young age, maybe 15, it is one of his biggest regrets. Odd though, I think he knew more about himself then, than he realizes. Barbed wire never really obstructs a view, it's main purpose is to keep people out (private property), and also to keep people locked in (prison). Pretty deep? Yeah I know, almost too well.

He, my ex, said he didn't liked girls with tattoos. I got mine on August 27, 2008. I love it. I see it not as a fence, nor a premeditated attempt at aversion, but as an affirmation, it's me, a very real part of me. And he already abandoned that months ago. PS: just don't tell my parents.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Don't even know what I'll find when I get to you . . .

Sorry for the delay . . . "it's so many miles . . . since I met you. Don't even know what I say when I get to you, but suddenly now, I know where I belong. It's many hundred miles, and it won't be long. It won't be long."

And nor will I be - long, there, those hundreds of miles behind.

Today, well, not yesterday, but the day before, it was over. Really over, as in, game over. My lives have been (video game like) exhausted. No more will I rekindle, reignite, assume that life, that position. He has written me off, and I him.

Tonight I spent some time with a lovely and loved man, not the one who has hurt me for months on end. I love him, this one, not like that - well maybe (it has been 5 years), but he cares for me, not like that, I wish. Nevertheless, this guy has seen me at my highest of highs, my very bottoms of lows, and still shows up. Even my ex never tried that; really showing up. I love him this great, curiously complex neighbor,but now is not the time, and maybe it won't ever come. That is fine. For now, I will simply love and adore and revel in his most genuine of company, truly - big sighs of fresh air. With him there is no judgement, or if there is, it's tiny and dissipates, he forgives me, like time.

Alas, my heart is still aching, breaking a bit, although it's mostly broken and done and dust. But tonight thank you RCL for reminding me that my company is cherished and even worthy of footing the bill. I owe you, so much more than dinner.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009


Uproar ***
Valid during many months: A series of sudden and unexpected events will probably strain your nerves to the utmost, making this a difficult time. This is most likely to happen if you have spent the last few years trying to please everyone. Any turmoil in the outside world is merely an indication that you have been seething inside for quite some time. Although it would be understandable if you now felt like packing everything in, this is certainly not the best solution. You will find it hardest to tolerate hypocritical and sanctimonious behavior - whether your own or others'. It is therefore important to clear the air and to honestly consider which aspects of your life reflect your authentic inner nature.

This influence will help you to scrutinize your ideals and visions, and to take your leave from those which are no longer relevant to any important decisions you have to make. For example, you might find that a political party or like-minded group of people of which you were once a member has lost its appeal. A clear decision to take all your imperfections seriously, and not to make lazy compromises, can be both healing and liberating, helping to give birth to new things in your life.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Happy VD!!!! Get it? ha

I received two of the best Valentine cards a girl could ever ask for . . . As a single fawn this year, I must say that I felt the love thanks to some folks. Who might they be . . . Adam J is resoonsible for the Lion Tamer image and thoughts. And then it's sweetest MM who gifted me the words and water color. The heart image comes from My Trick Pony, where last eve Mikey had an opening . . . more to come from last night soon . . . but for now, just this LOVE.

my ever constant valentines

Saturday, January 31, 2009

So Say the Stars

Valid during many months: During this time the structures that you have built up in your life will more than ever be challenged by circumstances. Areas of your life that you think are reliable and dependable may cease to be, and you will be forced to make a lot of changes. It is likely that you will feel a strong sense of uneasiness, because you don't know quite what to expect next.

During this time you may discover that you actually don't know what you thought you knew. This influence reveals aspects of life that you haven't considered at all, usually by creating a sudden event that does not fit into the pattern of your life. This is happening now, largely through encounters with others in close relationships or with enemies.

But you are not being "hurt" pointlessly. This influence is letting you know that you don't have all the answers about reality and that there is still room to grow. Look at the situation that way and assimilate what you are shown. The more you resist and try to deny what happens now, the more difficult this time will be.

These words come from my daily horoscope, one that I often chose not to read until my day is done, because it's rather spot on . . .

And then, according to the astrological master, miss Jessica Lanyadoo from the SF Bay Guardian, Gemini is asked the following:

"Have you ever moved out of a crappy apartment into a better place? Even if you're improving your quality of life, it sucks to change. It takes all kinds of effort and it's emotionally draining to make such a big, meaningful shift. Don't let the bummer parts of the process deter you from upgrading your life."

Lots of work I'm discovering on this Saturday a.m. A day that 's supposed to be a day of rest and relaxation. Apparently I've got a new job.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

She wants to live by the ocean . . .

I took a long walk today, something that was on my list. I love checking to do's (especially this sort) off. There was a rainbow too, and it almost appeared to follow me the entire time. Coupled with brisk air and my very own soundtrack, today's walk was a simple lesson: I was good company for myself. Hopefully I'll be good company for someone else too.