You Better Put Some Water On That Damn Shit

After returning home from a mini road trip to Indiana this eve, I was looking forward to a good ol' bowl of Kashi and some Trader Joe's gluten free granola topped off with some organic oat milk. The reminder did not kick in about having less than a 1/4 cup of the milk, so I had to put some water on it. I've never done that before. I usually would opt out of the cereal, but I forged ahead tonight because I wanted that bowl of cereal. The experience is not unlike what I did tonight. Up until yesterday I thought I was seeing someone. As I was hanging out with the dude and his friend tonight and the whole night his friend kept asking me for my number right in front of (who I thought was) MY dude. When the dude and I were leaving I finally spoke up and told him that I liked him and was wondering what the fuck was up and he shot me down because we are co-workers (so he says). A friend from college asked me one time how a dude could hang out with me as much as he did and not be madly in love with me. Who fucking knows? So what did I do with my fire, I had to put some water on that damn shit.

YOU GOT SOME NICE FAT KNEES

It is rare that I wear a skirt, let alone a short skirt, but I wore a skort (skirt over shorts) with black tights and tall black wedge boots the other day and received more compliments than I can remember ever receiving for one outfit. Having trouble with compliments almost grounded me to my desk, but I had so much running around to do that I couldn't avoid the comments. Most were complimentary no matter the hard time they gave me, but others were not vocal , more like, "How/Why is she wearing that?!". One man in particular caught my fancy as I was going to get lunch. A beggar of sorts just about screams at me, "Damn Guuurrrrrl, you got some nice fat knees!!" Indeed I do, sir. Indeed I do. Thanks.

GASH OF THE WRISTS

Blood ran from her wrists as though she had three hearts pumping in her chest. Amazing she didn't die from the impact or the initial loss of blood cells and platelets. It happened so many times before she couldn't even count how many had made some scar on her being. Happens every fucking time. The blood pooled around her left foot and she started to make circles with the liquid until organically it turned into figure 8s and that got her thinking of the future. Though her wrists bled so hard her veins were twitching, she was able to pick herself up and get to the phone to call all of the trespassers. The trespassers and violators. Her hearts hurt as each number was pushed on the telephone. Whose phone you ask? Who knows and she did not care after the evening she had and the night had only just begun. The location of where she had been left was unknown and last on her mind as she kept dialing those numbers of the ones who hurt, abused, and took advantage of her so many times before this night of everlasting destruction. Blood spewed from her veins as she squealed and hissed into the phones of those that knew the guilt of the jobs they did on her and her body. The liquids. the liquids

Of course some numbers had changed and she continued to yell at the sorry unknowing soul on the other end. Most of those listened because she was crazed and articulate. Blood began to spew from her mouth as she neared the end of her list and the figure 8s turned into streaks of strength removing itself from her legs and torso. Her head was heavy enough to clamp the receiver with her shoulder. Her right hand never left the keypad, she duct taped it to the base so the slippery blood would not keep her from dialing. This was the time for all to be said and done. Her hearts were broken. She had no more to give except a instruction on life, participation, and humanity. She regrets not being a lesbian since those men never respected her like any of her female friends, straight or gay, but then again, she gave up the women that stole men from her and she picked up woman who value friendship and love. She misses them already, but not for long as the pigment moves from her face and the receiver drops from her shoulder to the floor with an incredible display of destruction. She forgets what her last thought was and passes out only to come crashing to the floor stabbing her eye with a sharp edge of the broken receiver. Her head throbbed for a few seconds until she realized it was time to let go. It was time to just let go. Gotta go. So let go.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

Hope

Love is a many splendored gay thing. I love "LOVE", but have had little to no "butterflies" or "sweeping off my feet" until more recently. Girlfriend, here is not one for commitment with almost anything in a good while, but something good is a foot and here's hoping it will be positve, delightful, and delovely. Thanks for listening.

The Choice of My Heart

Why oh, fucking why do men rule my heart and waste my brain? They make me dizzy and the spinning is making me cry. (The man mentioned in the last post is the same as the one mentioned here. ) A phone call tonight from my long distance boyfriend (I wish) of 6, almost 7 years. He lives in DC and has only visited once (2006) and was violently allergic to my cat making the visit a wee bit uncomfortable. We met while I was stage managing a show in Richmond, Va and I cried very hard uncontrollably in front of him during our last encounter before moving to Chicago. I had apparently fallen in love with him. Drama was one thing I did not intend to bring to our table. He wanted me to be friends with benefits and that was cool, but it wasn't just a one night stand and it wasn't like I would go over to his place and leave when he was done with me (although my insecurity would lead me to believe just that). He cooked dinner and we watched some Seinfeld or Jeopardy and then do it. Or I would drive him to the train and we would hit it in the AMTRAK parking lot at 3am on a random Tues. In the dressing room (scandalous!) and on the way to a cast party (shocking). Graphically enough, the only man to ever work hard enough to make me cum without my help. He invoked a sexual demon that I can't quiet, but am forced to stifle to help with my self esteem. He also lit up my sweet spot for the brothers and I ain't talking about incest. I have spoken of this lad before and just two days ago, I was trying to let him go from my brain since my last trip east was once again lacking a hit of that and he was supposed to call me when he was free, but that was two weeks ago. Just as he had faded from my brain for the first time in 6 fucking years, he had to text tonight and I had to text back, and then he had to call. But for the record, we did not have phone sex and we never have. We talked about (mostly) his work and professional life in DC and the bs he has to deal with on a daily basis. In a previous post whether here or MySpace I mentioned that if he asked me to marry him I would and tonight after hearing that I am pursuing work to help the environment, he asked if I was going to marry Al Gore. He fumbled at first and all I heard was "...you...marry" I almost peed my pants. Fucker.

SO SHINES A GOOD PHONE CALL ON A WEARY MONDAY

On Thursday night I embark on my trip east for the Family gathering in Annapolis, MD. I'm half looking forward, partially nervous, and partially not looking forward to this trip. The good part is that I get to drive halfway across this great continent which is always a treat for me and I get to see my family that I haven't seen since last winter. The annoying part is having to see my family because there will be about 20 of us trying to fit in one medium sized house and that is no vacation considering I am driving 17 hrs to get to the place, but I am going to have a great time. It has been writing that this will be a great trip. In addition to the trip, I am looking to see an old friend that gives me great pleasure. He is someone that I think of daily. Daily. There are only a handful of people that I think of daily and he happens to be the most thought of man in my head. Unfortunately, he lives in DC and he is allergic to cats, my Chubbs in particular.

He called me at work today. Now mind you, only about 5 of my closest friends have my work number and only 2 of them call me, but to see that 202 prefix come across my display, I got just a wee bit excited even though I was not 100% that it was him calling. Delightfully, it was he and seemed just as excited to talk to me as I to him. Not only has my day been made, but quite possibly, my week, too. He is an incredible human being and I am touched and honored that he would take the time to contact me and to even mention checking his schedule to squeeze me in for a visit. If the world was ideal, and he asked me to marry him today, I would graciously accept even though I don't believe he would be faithful. Oh what a tangled, delightful, and notorious web we weave. Thank you, RC, for making my day that much brighter, for changing my life, and even more for being an amazingly wonderful man who thinks of me more often than I could have even dreamed.

First Time For Everything

Today was a day for a lovely walk to my delightful weekly voice lessons. Afterwards I took a walk in search of a telephone line adapter and instead of hopping into the car to CVS I decide to go to my local dollar store, but no such luck. Of course that didn't stop me from spending $8 on random kitchen and office supplies. Before going to the dollar store, I stopped in a market to use the ATM since the dollar store is a cash only establishment. I got a lemon flavored water and some gum to break the $20 and the owner guy was chatting with me and rubbed his upper chest asking if "This was ok?" and he had to repeat it 3 times before I just was like "It's ok", but still not understanding him. Upon leaving the store, I looked down to find my shirt wide open and my bra all showing. Ah, I see what "this" is now. Today was also a music day. I have less funds for entertainment these days and so the music and movie collection is on a 10 yr slow, but today I bought some music. David Bowie, Changes. Bob Marley & the Wailers Legend. The Very Best of Curtis Mayfield and Femi Kuti, Shoki, Shoki. I've been a stoner for over a decade now and today I bought my first Bob Marley album. Still don't own any Dead or Phish. I will more than likely stay this way, no offense to those guys, but I rather hang with the brothers than stinky whitey and his dreads. I did meet a delightful co-ownership (maybe dating, too) couple that runs the only non-latino record store within several miles. They kept a store cat that loves boxes much like Chubbs, mi gato. Their names were Lance and Liz and the record store is Permanent Records. Check them out!