Sunday, November 17, 2013

The Hiccups Reign Supreme

Look here it is, after so long.  My second mother is dead but don't look to me for a eulogy, I already wrote one and my dearest Gypsy read it at her funeral today.

These fucking hiccups, these bastard headaches... this poisonous heartache.  Whatever.  They won't give me any more drugs or alcohol.  They want me to go to sleep and rest.  FUCK YOU.   You fucking rest when your mothers are dead and gone.  The last persons who remember your childhood... buried, decomposing in that weirdo Americana formaldehyde.  There's a bottle of wine my lover wanted to save for our anniversary... can't help but feel you withhold the good pain buffers, I take what I can get.  So I'm a fucking mess right now, so be it.

The world will never be the same.  She's dead.

There is but one enduring song I've been humming for months and months and months and months and mooons and mooons and mooons.  Preparing for this, but we're never prepared are we?  Loss upon loss, like sand grains upon sand. Drowning slowly.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013


As it turns out, it really is this simple. We await impending darkness, our fragile hearts beating hope in our impotent hands.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Meaning of Limp & Flaccid

Sitting in a home that isn't my own surrounded by artificial light and the deafening silence of peaceful sleeping persons whilst pondering the nature of capability and its irreverent twin helplessness; a notion my lion heart does not easily embrace, I can hear only her tearful confused words uttered in a place that isn't her home,

Why am I always doing what other people want?  I am a good person, why am I slapped around and left? Why can't I live with you?  Why can't you take care of me? I wish I were just buried in a hole, left alone and forgotten.

I sit here dumbstruck with only my limp and flaccid words... this is all I can do.  Asking the same Why she asked.  Why is she left alone with no one [worthy] to care for her?  Why cannot I rescue her and give her peace, love and comfort in the last years of her life?

Amputated by my failures, my frailties, I cannot fix what is permanently broken.  I cannot heal a mind that genetics have ravaged.  I cannot maim her perpetrator.  I cannot convince the legal system to move its feet and right the injustice.  I cannot pray to a God, who remains so silent, asking where He's been all these years, hearing with deaf ears the cries of so many and doing nothing.  The law remains resolutely certain a Husband is always the one best equipped to care...even when that care becomes a blow, a choke hold, a push.  What do black eyes and neck contusions matter when the victim cannot even remember what he's done, when no one was there to see, when the legal system is so twisted it cares only to protect itself from itself?

Like a sick and twisted version of, "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to here, does it make a sound?"

We are all bound by our choices, it would seem.  Even when those chains become death sentences.    She married an evil man.  She stayed with the man.  The grandmother and the grandfather that raised me.  She used to protect me from him by bodily interception, her tiny frame between me and Goliath.  Her sparrow heart fluttering, her bird voice becoming a lioness roar.  "You will not touch her!"  Will I be arrested if I do the same?  My own lion heart roars at the thought.  The fucking thought.  What is thought?  Nothing.  Just mental constipation.  Until then, I sit here with my erectile dysfunction words and watch my wheels of thoughts spinning in an imperfect circle.  All arriving at the same point.  Watch her die.  Not today, not tomorrow but someday.

My mind is utterly dumbstruck.  I'm scared we are all dolls, till the end and my eyes keep searching the Heavens for something resembling comfort, an answer to the chaos of nonsense.  I'm left with only these words, these lyrics.  Are we alone?  Are we just electrical synapses firing in the dark of the night?

It's tricky when
You feel someone
Has done something
On your behalf

It's slippery when
Your sense of justice
Murmurs underneath
And is asking you.

How am I going to make it right?

With a palm full of stars
I throw them like dice
I shake them like dice
And throw them on the table
Until the desired constellation appears
And I ask myself:

How am I going to make it right?

Image: Hans Bellmer Poupée

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Kill Bill

A moment of violence is nothing much in the grand scheme of the world right?  So many innocent tears and uncomprehending eyes... the climax occurs with tsunami speed and just as quickly the blood is spilt, the damage done. Contusions on papery wrinkled skin, an old woman's choke hold bruises... what's a payback black eye really worth these days on the black market anyway? Or better yet?  An evil twin, someone to actualize the violence you wish to incite.  I want him dead or maimed beyond recognition.

There is a bulb inside her head
Where once there was a brain in place

Monday, February 25, 2013

And Waves Are All I Want To Hear

The March winds have started blowing early tonight.  Wild gusts tear limbs from trees and surprise sensitive epidermis with nippy bites, a reminder to us all in the groin of America that even though it's been balmy and summery during the day for weeks, winter still has a voice.  Add to to the tumult that it's also a full moon and someone mentioned Mercury is in retrograde so wildness likely abounds.  If you're out and about, be mindful of contracts, technologies and bad decisions.. they'll likely confound you at every turn.

Three days remain for me in my Womb and with my pup Mavis and yet I've done little to pack or finalize this phase in my life.  Strange that I look around me at the possessions I've acquired and cherished for so long and yet I feel so weary of them.  Wouldn't it be wonderful when starting over if you could just magically be done with the Now and be transported into Tomorrow?  The grunt work doesn't interest me in the least; daydreams are so much more real to me. Wishing for the new home and phase wrapped in the strong supple arms of my Mandala Lover embracing the new, minus the boxes, pup rehoming and exertion.  Acceptance of change is funny like that.  Ok Change, I'm ready for you.  This is cool but get it over with already.

The Stranglers - North Winds Blowing

I saw an orange robe burning
I saw youth on fire
I saw metal machine that were turning
On a generation that hadn't yet tired

I heard of two generations being murdered
In a Europe that was shrouded in black
I witnessed the birth pains of new nations
When the chosen people finally went back

North winds blowing
I wish it would blow all away
North winds blowing
I wish they would blow all away
I wish they would blow all away

I saw freedom in the shape of disease
And mainly men had to quench their desire
And while a few could do just as they pleased
I saw kids whose bellies were all on fire

When all is dead and war is over
When hollow victory has been won
Who will joing in the celebration
Or the evil that just can't be undone

North winds blowing
I wish it would blow all away
North winds blowing
I wish they would blow all away
I wish they would blow all away

I used to dream about destruction
But now that I feel it getting near
I spend my time watching the ocean
And waves are all I want to hear

I wish I was a believer
I'd spend less time in being sad
So may laws against disbelieving
Don't know who's good or who's bad

Photo by Werner Bokelberg

Thursday, February 21, 2013

And Just Like That

Things begin to change.  I am flooded by change from every direction.  I am the crevasse of dried burnt earth.  I am the dam that kept my crevasses dry.  I am the salty water wearing down the dam, flooding myself. I am the new landscape unfolding before me.

Reading the story written by my friend of the asexual robot inventor and his relationship between his android and the human girl, or the new blog by my dearest Christine and her Senbazuru journey or the continued progress of Skywalker through 40 days of yoga/meditation, I am so inspired by the manifestations in their lives, I want to run, not walk out, of the tunnel of my own making and embrace all the newness coming my way. 

Melody Prochet's Melody's Echo Chamber... dreamy, webbed and swirling heights of color and sound embed the eddies of change mixing with the deeply rooted earth of my heart.  I am churned to mud and freed from the last clinging grips of nostalgia.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Something's Got A Hold On Me

Always a Larkspur
No Rest for my heart

Something's got a hold of me, baby

Always a Larkspur
No Rest for my heart

Pulled its hand from the earth
I pulled its hand from the earth

Something's got a hold on me
Know that something's got a hold of me

The Veils - Larkspur


Misheard lyrics are my forte and today I got hit with a doozy.  Every time I've heard this song, I always get a little frisky and lustful imagining sweaty limbs, strobe lights and lots of bad decisions because I hear the line... Writhing on the dance floor.  Writhing... what an amazingly sexual word. 

Alas today I discovered it's Riding on the Metro.  Dammit, that's not near as much fun.. at least in my corner of the world.  The Metro in my town is pretty tame unless you count the weirdos who smell gross, the others that talk to themselves or the ones that want to hand out their Jehovah Witness Watchtower pamphlets.  Oh well... think this time I'll keep my own version, writhing on the dance floor is so much more fun.

Speaking of which... it's about time for some sweaty writhing dancing darkness.  The beast within bellows and she won't be calmed by the fucking Metro.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Looky, Hooky

Sometimes it's good to remind ourselves how fucking amazing playing hooky actually feels. 

CSS - Off the Hook

A River The Color of Lead

When I should be sleeping but the elusive bitch taunts me with wafting tendrils... I sit here in front of the forgotten pixels of this aging computer screen and am stumped by the simplest of tasks.  Find a song that suits this space and time.  Articulate words that alleviate this stone in my heart.  When did this become so herculean?

After years of routine and relative quiet, punctuated by existential crises largely of my own making, my life has actually turned upside down.  New job, new relationship, new social circles filled with a merry band of misfit lovables, family dramas and add to this in two weeks I'll be moving house and rehoming my pup Mavis.  [I'll try not to obsess over how little time I've been able to devote to reading blogs, exploring new music of late, how scared I am of all this new newness and how guilty I feel about the family stuff, making time for my dearests whom I miss beyond terribly and how heartbreaking it will be when I finally have to relinquish Mavis to her new home in just a few short days.  TRY I said.]  All of which would previously, in their own specific rights, have sent me into blogging overload, cuddling my pup tightly like a requisite Linus blanket after many glasses of wine and comforting cigarettes mouthed with lover's delight.  Time time time... always slipping away.

 And I'm not happy and I'm not sad.

Deviant recklessness coddled and tended, this is a special moment the Gardener within me cautions.  One to be savored and revered.  Soon my hours of masochistic stink will be shunted and tetrised in ways I can't even fathom.  This revelation breeds questions upon questions, daydreams within daydreams... Is this right?  What comes next?  Who is controlling whom?  Can my stone energy keep pace with my fire heart?  With queried weariness, the fickle hand of change cradles wrinkles tap dancing across this forehead.  Brutal wicked humor, Universe you challenge me.  I wanted this.. begged even and like any wanton toddler being I now dig my foot bones into place and contrarily pout, "No, I'm not ready."

But the reality is, I am ready.  Because I am here, in this space and time loving so many new things, people and embracing new modes of both communication and feeling like an experienced pro even when my stubborn stone mind disagrees with this inky velocity.  This tiny womb of an apartment with its sarcophagus shower has nurtured me far longer than any creature on this earth is ever granted and after three years it's time to move on and open myself to something different.  A new space, a new housemate, a new lover, a new path...  one free of old remnants and reminders.  So cheers Womb, I love you and will carry with me my dusty, cluttered, safe memories of your many strange quirks and corners in my heart always.   I'll miss you.  I already miss this.

There's a world where I can go and tell my secrets to
In my room, in my room
In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears
In my room, in my room

Do my dreaming and my scheming
Lie awake and pray
Do my crying and my sighing
Laugh at yesterday

Now it's dark and I'm alone
But I won't be afraid
In my room, in my room

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Make It Roar At Me.. And I Roar Back

Tonight Gypsy and I discussed that Love, the love that brings us to the brink of destruction.  The love that tempts us to break down all boundaries, all expectations, all worries... the energy that consumes, that Will that drives you to willfully push all your desire ALL OVER ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING THAT STANDS IN YOUR WAY.

We explored how this desire is inherently erotic and sexual, destructive and constructive and how it is fundamentally different from our Lovers... those who either are Scorpio or who have predominant Scorpio in their charts.  She is Aries, so fiery, direct and Of The Moment and we touched upon how she is learning to embrace her hidden emotional needs.  I love her for this.  I am of this nature too... in my own quieter sneaky ways.  When she loves, she loves like a fire volcano... and this understanding rumbles deep within this fire heart.  Fire can burn everything, it can consume everything it touches leaving nothing but a scarred barren landscape with nothing left to grow.  This is an energy I've led with for a very long time.  Dormant versus fiery volcano.

As a wanton Fire Heart, my desire is to learn how to transcend that my Force is an energy of Love, Acceptance, Adoration without crossing wires with Overbearing, Controlling, Ignorance.  Teaching Gypsy tonight [and myself] that subtlety, gentleness, tenderness and openness weigh more than overabundance brought me to a place of humility and vulnerability.  When I bend, when I cry with my Lover... when the walls dissolve and my tears flow forth... all my needs are met.  She embraces and absorbs my pain and I am wide open, cradling her beautiful heart within my ribs.  Eroticism is more than bodies, breath and limbs. When she exhales her miraculous breath, I taste divinity and discover solace is a place, known and named. 

How humbling my relationship to Bjork has been through this incredible transcendent love affair, I cannot express in this post, though I've shared more Bjork songs with my Mandala Lover more so than any other person.  Bjork has been my voice for so long, my solace.. sharing her is a very personal thing.  I can say that in this moment, I am beyond appreciative that I'm no longer Violently Happy... I am anchored.  Which is why these two songs now have an honored immortal place in my Sequential Favorites playlist.   

This morning my Lover came to meet me while this song played in the background and we met with such a passion, I kissed her with all that I am.  With all I feel, with all I can give through the movements of strings and vocalities - I give to her... she is the most precious gift.

She is l'eau de ma vie... the water of my life. 

 I live by the ocean
and during the night

I dive into it
down to the bottom
underneath all currents
and drop my anchor

and this is where I'm staying

This is my home

Monday, February 4, 2013

Took My Heart

It's all tumbling... I'm spinning.  Where is my center?   What is my space?  I don't know.  I'm plowing through believing in another person and believing they're going to be there.  My lover reassures me she is there...but my life is falling. Everything in my life is changing.  I'm scared.

I love my independence.  We are one, myself.  I've been ME for a long time.  Relinquishing this space of control is a new space, a spirit of compatibility.  Molding something that speaks true, that screams true! A space that says, "Lover, do you even know how precious it is that I share with you?!?"

I love her so much it scares me.

I woke this morning deep in the earth
Laying bare with the granite and the moths
Up I clambered and I was met by the sun
It was then I saw you there, down on the street

My love
You've come such a long way
With no one to comfort you
Or to tell you you're needed

You and I come from the same place
But if I were to call for you
What's there left to believe in?
So I signaled up to the high and crumbling moon
We've made it then, my love

Closed both my eyes and crawled under the sink
And as I dreamt I swear i felt you in my arms again
You've come such a long way
With no one to comfort you
Or to tell you you're needed

You and I come from the same place
But if I were to call for you
What's there left to believe in?
What's there left to believe in?
What's there left to believe in?

No way, you're looking down
Took my heart and ripped my crown
And i'm fallin' for ya, and i'm fallin' for ya,
And i'm falling for you, ah,
That's enough to believe in.

You've come such a long way
With no one to comfort you
Or to tell you you're needed

You and I come from the same place
But if I were to call for you
What's there left to believe in?

You're all I've left to believe in. 

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

The Noise

A murky tributary with prolific silt claws my eyes, fills my mouth, my ears.. choked and cloaked I am deaf, blind, and disquieted.  Sweet clear stream I miss thee, with your easy simplicity.  Silence, my beloved, wash through my mind and sift this cloying mud. 

Austra - The Noise

I can't sleep at night
The noise, the noise.
My eyes they open wider
The noise, the noise.
I came to relate
The noise, the noise.
Help me compensate for
The noise, the noise.

But I wouldn't do anything.
The thundering that throws me away.
I wouldn't do anything.

I won't go to church
The noise, the noise.
The preacher wouldn't care for
The noise, the noise.
I don't know what's real from
The noise, the noise.
I can't hear a thing for
The noise, the noise.
The noise.
The noise.
The noise.

I wouldn't do anything.
The thundering that throws me away.
I wouldn't do anything.
There's something that keeps me away.
I wouldn't do anything.
Something that begs me to stay.
I wouldn't do anything.
Something that throws me away. 

Monday, January 21, 2013

When We Mean Soft Things

A key turning, a pivotal shift... a parallel universe.  That was then, this is now and so much is healed in the microcosm.  So much of what I craved and willed with angry possession is now given effortlessly and lovingly.  This new language is baffling in its familiarity and yet I am so at home.

My lover is camping, with no phone or means of active communication and I've been left to my own devices.  Not alone because I've spent the days in active communion with so many beautiful people and am solidifying my new being.   This person that loves this person, without fear and doubt.  I am stretching these new wings and muscles, feeling comfortable in this new skin of identity.  She is herself.  I am myself.  We love each other.  Trusting these truths that braid tenderly, as we grow together.

 There was the night spent with the two Spiritual Healer Mothers and how their incredible energies combined to aid in a cathartic VOCAL release of so many years of pain, I howled with red hot tears on an art collector's turret patio with the skyline in attendance and was then so subsequently loved and supported my little wounded child within feels like singing, not hiding.  There was Vegan Soup Night and cocktail chats spent with Skywalker laughing about the pecularities of relationships and the strange concessions we make along the way for love and how they don't bind, these loving restraints we encourage.  And today's amazing four hour vegan breakfast taco brunch time with Skywalker and Christine where we covered so many continents of conversation: relationships, love, politics, geographical identity, dancing followed by wine night with Cherokee and that healing thing that occurs when you stop being retractive and open up to another person.  She and I are uncovering how to better communicate with our Loves, how to stop the Angry Train and stop screaming for what you need.  Stop.  Think.  Breathe.  Commune.  With soft truth.

I miss my darling One but I'm also grateful to experience what it's like to be in love and not feel desperate for them all the time.  She will be with me soon, I will bathe in her warmth and share with her all that we've experienced soon enough.  This is new, this precious space... I am not afraid without her, I envision her peace and happiness as she communes with her friends, with nature, with herself.  I know she's thinking of me as she is loving herself and her life and I am doing the same. 

Fear breeds jealous, anger, judgement, criticism and results in smallness of spirit.  Manifesting in wonderful open ways, love is expansive.  It grows and grows and in turn creates undulating beauty in others, rippling in perpetuity.  I'm so humble and grateful, there just aren't enough words in my vocabulary to speak of this shift. Using the same sorts of words of gratitude and warmth over and over again to express such a feeling is old and doesn't really say how profoundly [     ] I actually am... I need new words.   Dark and nebulous is my accustomed language, I swim in the dark and murky depths with relative ease;  navigating light, love and openness is awkward and makes me... shy.   My spirit and face blush, I hide my face in my right shoulder and hunch inward basking in a wonderful inward feeling [that is almost shameful in its fullness] just as my lover reminds me the peaceful rosy apples of my cheeks are beautiful and gently draws my face into hers.   Drawing myself into the light of her healing being, she carefully reassures me we are perched on this limb of our love together.

Song meanings are changing for me in profound ways as my life changes profoundly.  Have you experienced this?  How you used to hear a song a certain way and after an undetermined time you hear it differently?  It's a subtle shift but one that strikes my innards.  For example, take one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands.  I used to mantra this song while in the depths of my last relationship, pleading to the universe we could transcend and love each other the way we both needed to be loved.  Oh how the lyrics of this song would haunt me in our daily interactions.  Now I mantra the following lines within myself as a reminder to appreciate and worship my lover.  To always consider in my thoughts and actions how to support, love and cherish mon petit cadeau.    

Why do we keep shrieking, when we mean soft things.  We should be whispering all the time.

The Magnetic Fields - 100,000 Fireflies

I have a mandolin
I play it all night long
It makes me want to kill myself
I also have a dobro
Made in some mountain range
Sounds like a mountain range in love

But when I turn up the tone
On my electric guitar
I'm afraid of the dark without you close to me

I went out to the forest and caught
A hundred thousand fireflies
As they ricochet round the room
They remind me of your starry eyes
Someone else's might not have made me so sad
But this is the worst night I ever had

'cause I'm afraid of the dark without you close to me
You won't be happy with me,
But give me one more chance
You won't be happy anyway

Why do we still live here
In this repulsive town?
All our friends are in New York

Why do we keep shrieking,
when we mean soft things?
We should be whispering all the time...

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Silkworm Sounds

There are whispers, undercurrents and eddies within and they have a sound, a language all their own.  Do you understand them?  These are the steps we walk, translated and prismatic.. leading us to a center estuary.  Lulled to the beat and pulse of my lover's pure heart thrumming so close to my own, these precious moments of solace and peace.  In a strange precipice of consciousness, these sounds urge me to mold that ever present fear into ribbons of warmth and light.  Tendrils of transcendent cocoons that heal and never harm.  For her, I will shift mountains.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Sweeter Than Heaven, Hotter Than Hell

Am I dreaming?  Limbs entangled, our breath inhalation breeds magic.   My lover lays supine and supple beneath me as I whisper sweet nothings to her en francais [tu es le beau soleil dans ma vie] as my hands perform their not so sweet hungry manipulations.  Working spells of holy communion, there is a sacred communication between my touch and her willing flesh.  She wonders what I'm thinking, what I mean about this exchange between our skins when I murmur quietly, drinking her in with complete intoxicated worship.  But I refuse to say, this is our time - epidermis and spirit, conversing in this secret language comprised of lusty prayers and her glorious limbs... such devotion to her perfect golden mandala body.

Florence & The Machine - Drumming Song

There's a drumming noise inside my head
That starts when you're around
I swear that you could hear it
It makes such an all mighty sound

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

As I move my feet towards your body
I can hear this beat it fills my head up
And gets louder and louder
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder

I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out

I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole
Till there's nothing left inside my soul
As empty as that beating drum
But the sound has just begun

Friday, January 4, 2013

Fire Heart

An ending and a beginning.  My crush has become my lover and I don't even know if I have the words to share.  Pause for reaction. Words are my life but with her I don't even need them.  We speak and we know.  We feel and we both understand.

My life has come full circle in the most beautiful strangest of ways.  First five years of heartache believing I'm worth nothing and then leaving the Babylon Tower which led me to embrace a life of serenity, grace and love and ultimately the most beautifully kind, emotional, intelligent, foxy, loving, accepting, sexually deviant, sensual human being I have ever met.  I feel so incredibly lucky after so many years of sadness, longing, loneliness, rage and ire to find the person that answers all the questions, hopes, fears and prayers I've embraced and expanded. 

She is, as I tell her often, mon petit cadeau [my little gift].  We wrap ourselves in emotional salt, wounded and healed; a warm bath of solidified faith - speaking the same language; both ephemerally and wholly connected in ways I've only dreamed of.  Our fire hearts astound me with their synchronicity, we both absorb and rebel and I am so incredibly lucky to have met her and am even more amazingly blessed she loves me. Many apologies if I don't spend much time here in the near future but I'm sure you can understand; in fact, I think I can hear teeny tiny hands clapping in applause... all my lovely followers converging to wish me happiness after so many years of sad loneliness.  Sunshine reigns.  Much warmth lovelings.

There are so many songs that my beautiful lover inspires me to hum, dance and share but this one leaves me feeling the most whole, the most shiny.


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