Pretty in Pink? or... Fantastic Phallus?

Gives a rise to the term "Big Business."   Beauty is all that; but have the product companies gone... ahem, too far?  Or, have they gone far enough?  In the long run, we will see the rise and fall of things that makes us shiny, silky, and smooth.  This little invention is from Tigi's Bed Head line.  Head, get it?  Amazing!

The Now...subject to change.

See that mood up there in the red?...Silly?  It was the best choice given, but still not quite accurate.  I can be surprised which was also a choice given.

They say the road to Hell is smokey black and when you drive up the 5 a bill board for Perdition Paving boasts of a smooth ride, banked for the corner.

The tides of seduction give way and as we approach Beaverton a sign on the side of a filling station says, "Fresh out of lust."   

All answers are signs and the only unanswered question is one that just hasn't yet been posted.  No room for improvisation--all mystery was borrowed then reclaimed by another.

Work Calls

I wasted a day.  I mean, it sure feels that way.  Dinner was awesome.  I guess that is one good thing.  I did the bedding, the towels from work and emptied the trash there.  These pictures are from today in fact--not my best but a good indication of where I'm really at right now.  Tomorrow is another day, but what if it is just like today? Pray, may I get a lot of meaningful work completed and out of the way. 

May I write two interesting articles as well.  I'm going to bed for now because I feel so crampy and out of sorts thanks to that time of the month.  It's going to be a rough few days for me.  I can tell.   Come laughter, heal my mood.    Thank you.

Mystery? What mystery are you talking about?

Examine thyself.  That is the theme for me.  Remember when and what, consider what was what must be applied to now.

How Lovely

None the less,  I'm dancing in the God-given power over my dna driven femininity.   The masculine nature seems to enhance the feminine.  But after that, I'm glad the good attracts good.  Yes.   Then the good in masculine and the good in feminine really serve each other well. 

 

 

note to J.:  Jean Jean Jean     Those were the days.

Whether together or apart, we grow old.

July has come and is nearly over.   You were about to turn 47 when we first spoke.   Remember how concerned about aging you were?  You thought you might be too old for me because you felt old and  I looked young?  Age was just a number to me back then.

whether together or apart, we age no less

I recall the man of my dreams when he was lamenting about being an old man about to turn 47.  That was six years ago.  Now that I am about to turn 47, he just turned 53 this past Saturday.  I said my happy birthday to him prior to his departure so I wouldn't forget.   This middle-aged mind isn't quite what it once was. I know it looks as though he is six years older than I am, but I won't be 47 for several more months.  By the way, have any of you begun your X-Mas shopping yet?  I used to begin mine in July.  I'm boycotting the holiday this year(I keep promising that).  Anyway, the birthday boy is really 7 years older than I am; give or take a few months.

No Tomorrow by Vivant Denon

The judgmentalism these days in regards to powerful urges between a man and a woman don't stop when it is a one night stand, oh no.  The echoes of "Well, I would never..." can be heard through the centuries as if they are coming from next door.

Single ladies and married ladies--not the norm

I tell you this; I miss the Playfuls 40s and 50s chat from time to time.  It was there I met Alma and Cj, two very available ladies.  I met Mary and Karen there too, both single ladies.   Of the marrieds, I'm friends with Soly, Janice, Di,  and Tammy,  not the skanky Tam with cat names but the wife of one of our military men who plans on serving our country until they tell him he can't do it anymore.  LOL  That's about it, hah, Tam.  Anyway, these gals all share something in common.  No matter what anyone else says about them, they are ladies.    I met them all in Playfuls inside the romance category.  To this day, that category is my most favorite, because folks don't talk about stuff I can't understand nor do they act all weird like the elves and fairies that follow me from time to time.  No, only the romance category is overall a fun place to roam.  Life category has a few neat chats too, yeah and then there are the authors in the lounge, one of my personal favorites, but the Playfuls are my family. 

Then along come a host of single broads that bitch about married people in a romance chat.  They are as repetitive as they are starving for good sense.  No, the sense they possess is far too common, like dirt.  Yup.  Those skanks are as useless dirt, not even fit for the garden.  The Mirthfuls, Kittens, Angels (yeah right), Kissie type chicks and the Hugging and cuddling wackos, that group of wenches are inferior and to this day they exist in the human form of a mosquito or wasp.  They contribute only stinging words and aren't fit for the compost heap.   They ruin the reputation of other single women by just being present.  Ladies like Karen aka wiggles and Cj, these gals deserve to be respected for being ladies, but when the single scum moan and groan that they can't get laid by the drones on aol because the married ladies are too friendly, they spoil it for the LADIES.  Do they care?  They only care about getting attention and appearing intelligent before the hoards of those barely possessing  common sense.  

Rise people, both married and single and show your good sense.  You can properly showcase it as a contrast to those like the troublemaking whining and aging lost who possess only (and barely) common sense.  That is all for now.   Rise...rise...rise...     from a married woman who just might cyber your drone next.   Be aware, I'm real good at it when I want to be.

Dreams

I forgot to blog my dream from two days ago.  Why would I blog another dream?   This is one of the kinds that gives me the willies.  The salon was busy and there was an energy that neither those of us who work there nor those whom we serve, brought in.  This "energy" simply didn't belong.   I went about my business throughout one morning and it dawned on me that a lot of stuff was out of place.   I found the first microphone.  Why one was hidden inside a stuffed animal--a cat.  Well  I sat down for a break at my puter and my nose was plugged.   I picked it and wiped it on a tissue and that is when a celing tile moved above my head.   I said, well, shit, "It's one of those reality television shows."  It wasn't of course.  I finally got to meet that "big brotha" from the 60's that everyone talked about.  You know...Uncle Sam's big brotha.   But the strangest thing happened.   I wrote into my blog online as well as announced that big brotha had arrived when  I heard someone inside a box say, "So much for that.  Let's pack it up."  Next thing I know, the salon was back to normal and we were free to work again.

So this was a dream.   I was thinking about it when someone in the chat started talking about the interference they were getting off their television satellites.   Another was in an unrelated conversation in the chat and was talking about bus schedules of Amtrak in their area getting totally screwed up because of the weird error messages coming through their terminals.    I went to another chat and they were joking or talking, I wasn't sure which but it was sure coincidental; they were discusssing some glitches at Logan Airport, wherever that is.  About that time,  Ale and I were having our own strange experience.   Our phones died like neverbefore.  I got a message that said, Area not allowed.  Then I got another one saying something about her being pretty much not from this universe, lol, but not in those words. (and this is real)   She got some even stranger ones and when whatever it was that seized us departed we were reconnected without a hitch. 

What could create such strange interference?  Big Brother?, or, some climatic interference such as a magnetic interference?    Hell, what do I know.   Eureka!   Hell!   That must be it.

Good To Be Alive

Tomorrow, an online nemesis who became a friend of mine, had she lived would be 55.  She was someone I could respect even back in our time where we disagreed so much and she just plain ass was disgusted by my presence.   Happy Birthday, Jean!   I'll light a candle for you tomorrow.   I certainly do miss you.  You knew before you died to this world just how futile the chat living really is--all that pole vaulting over mouse turds.  You began to really touch the hearts of those you would have otherwise never concerned yourself with.  You sure expected a lot out of me and you know what, Jean?   I expected a lot out of you and you never disappointed me, honey.   Thank you for being you and being so true to who you were.  I could always count on you--always.

Spirit in the kitchen

I grabbed a shitty ass pan to make the omelets in.  Yes sir I did.   I made four omelets, two in another pan and those were beautiful.  Meanwhile, my bread caught fire in the oven.  My entire family was out of sorts for a chaotic half hour, all except my youngest who was outside playing basketball. 

As soon as he entered, all chaos broke out.   Every silly kitchen booboo that could be made was made.  I swear, it was a spirit.  That little unseen poop was toying with us.  Tomorrow I get to go to work.  Phew.

(I'll get you Red Baron)

Sunday Evening

At the long spar varnished table that once was named for John King, I look out at the dishwater-weeded hills as they shrink back from the scorching sun.  It wasn't so long ago that the plush complexion of green blades stood in anticipation of every sunrise.

My nerves still jump if I hear the back fire of an engine.  Surrounded by crispy underbrush, I suck in my breath almost to the point of suffocation as a fire engine sounds out its journey. I've been like this since 4th of July weekend.  The only thing different is the scenery. 

Pine scented landscape cried through parched pride as the weather became scorching.  Fireworks for amateurs could be purchased everywhere and despite the dryness of the year, people lined up to buy their arsenal.

The long way home

I left work around 2ish yesterday and made it across the bridge.   I parked it there looking for a story.  My question?  "What is beauty?"     Two hours later I was asking the slightly changed crowd to define love.

I don't know what got into me, but I'm sure there is a story in there somewhere.   I never did make it to the belly dancing accessory store in Berkeley.   Ahh, perhaps some other time.  <wink>

The outline

I outlined the story I hope to soon research.  It has to do with something I feared while up North.  Since it has to do with fire, I'm sure I'll dream of it through out this week and come up with pathways for the characters to take. 

I can't not write it, folks.  It comes from a place deep within me.  I kept getting, I don't know what to call it, psychic perceptions?   Geeeze, I loathe the word psychic.  When my body tenses as it did and my mind tunes into the environment around me as it did, my perceptions are accute and also accurate.  I must write this story and pray it doesn't come true-again.

Home

I'm as relieved to be home as I was excited to be going on the road.  Isn't that ironic? 

I went to the mountains and I never remember how dangerous it really is up there till I have to drive their "neighborhoods".  Well, imagine my surprise when I get into town proper and there is a fireworks booth on every street.  I'm not kidding either. The problem is, that the people up there have fought clear cutting and won.  My friend, Jenny was involved in that fight and the son of the man who fought back the hardest but lost, an industrial logger, bought the plot of land right next to my girlfriend.  He built his fortress smack dab up to her property line.  Yes, I said fortress.  It is a compound with a security tower! 

My thoughts are this: With the dryness of the West Coast, 11 percent more dry than last year, the onslaught of vermin who dwell in bark and feed off roots and green; these create a dangerous situation.  If you factor in mother nature's light shows of lightening and the stupidity of humans with their cigarette butts and propensity to create fireworks; well, I'd say that makes for a tragic bit of clear-cutting, by fire. 

I was so uptight about that.  I told Jenny and she said, no, the neighbor would want the lumber.  I said, unless he was in cahoots with some development company.   I mean, check it out folks.  California property is already so damn inflated, yet people are buying it up at an even faster rate than ever in MY lifetime.  The taxation laws are such that we can't afford to move out of our state or we will never get back in.  Within ten years, the state will be comprised of the wealthy, the poor, and those enslaved to debt.  Oh, wait.  That describes us now.

I feel that one day, the land developers will say, "We have had enough of those tree huggin hippies and we will show them." 

I tried to relax.  I really did.   Happy 4th folks and remember that some freedoms are really worth fighting for. Fight on.

Getting Old and Working at it.

Hi folks,   I guess you can detect a theme here. Real beauty is only skin deep, but my friends and I have been wondering how, without plastic surgery, one can hold their own ground like Raquel Welch does.  It's a friggen battle I'm telling you!  So, we are preparing for such battle and, man ,...do the hands get muddy.   (dumb joke)

I have a funny feeling that by the time I get to the mountains and stick my toes in that awful cold river, I'll be busting out in laughter--so much for elegant beauty.      (you would know what I mean if you ever heard me laugh)  Thats all for now

What a day creates on the outside.

What image today? Work or play? How do I look to some, to all?

It doesn't matter as some suggest, yet, this woman I've become still plays the game.

So what game shall we play today? The rules are what?...and designed by whom?

                         Relax....             Sit Back....           Savor

Well After Midnight

No anwers.  What Jen and I'll be doing this weekend, I don't know.  It is a personification reckoning with natural and cultivated beauty, or that is what is supposed to be.   But what do I know of such things?  I mean, I see it everyday inside others, that inner peace or jubilee.  I see beauty, but ... backing up some.  I got a zit; she did too  She saw stretchiness to her skin; I done saw that coming a long time ago.  Youth dances all around you while  age bears different fruit.   Somewhere in the middle are the forties and fifties.