We're M.I.

Dunno, actually . . . I've so gotten away from writing as a whole. Not just bloggin but poetry and love letters to MyLover. Songs . . . I haven't written in so long, it's almost frightening. I wish I could say that I knew the moment it began, and actually I do, but can't meaning won't . . .

So I am, now . . . writing, that is. Of course, Greek starts next week, so it'll be interesting the direction that my writing takes over the next month-and-a-half. Stuff just coincides . . .

I've got emails to return, and ooh that is QUITE the bit of crow to eat, although I'll be feeding it to myself. My people are amazingly understanding: they let me know that I've been lax, but then they also let me know that they understand why. However, their understandingness doesn't let me off the hook. On the contrary, it drives me to keep myself right there on that hook 'til I have paid them my debt of kindness.

So many interesting things happening lately . . . A 3.5 for my first semester of Seminary. Some might say that this isn't a 'real' grad school, but I dare your average business major to take a walk in some of MY homework, and we'll see who has the more challenging courseload. Almost anyone can 3R - repeat, recite, and regurgitate - but few are willing to delve deeply into their soul's matter and live within its spiritual constructs. It is fun, though - imagine, a career where I can pick my own bellybutton lint, examine it and that of others, and share the whole experience in front of a roomful of forty to four hundred of my bestest friends. Weehee!

Gonna turn forty soon, speakin of which. I like that, and I'm grateful for that. Got a sweet grrl, an awesome kid, and as much family as I allow myself to be open to. I'm fuckin tired right now, though, so syonara, sweet dreams, and caviar.

Cheers!

short

so like this friend of mine . . . sweet girl . . . gits shot in her house . . . shot dead . . . then they set her place afire . . . she's home alone . . . and i'm fuckin insane with insanity . . . hard sayin God bless everyone no exceptions . . .

what if you wanna make an exception

wwJd

if he was alive, he woulda drove a chevette . . . dya think he woulda pimped out his ass like ppl pimp out chevette's . . . would he've gave it some zebra stripes and a boostin ass sound system with humongous woofers and little tiny tweeters and a kickin ass . . . well would his ass've kicked ass, ya think? shit . . . J in a chevette . . . or maybe a chevelle, yanno? like black interior with a yellow and white paintjob with red stripes and a rainbow I-Love-You sticker?

just wonderin, yanno, cuz it ain't right . . . shit just ain't cool.

annyway, i need a bath. i'm all sweaty and sticky and all that, but i just kinda needed to vent, inbetween squidbillies n razzapple buzz and shit . . . just needed to trip before i get wet . . . well, hell . . . gettin wet's nice anyway

cheerios

rublu

Shiny Girls Finish First

Yeah, I'm pretty cute. Everybody says so and you can only hear a thing so many times before you start believin it. And who'd lie to a dog, right? Right.

Ok, so check out the shine on my coat there. Glistening in the sunlight, yeah? Well, it might be pretty and I might be cute, but getting me to look like this did not make for a very cute morning. It all started so innocently . . .

Mommy got up, a little earlier than usual, but that wasn't a big deal. She sleeps like I sleep - whenever, wherever, til she's gotta go wee. So as she trekked her way to the echosystem, I got up and stretched . . . so tempted to try to get out of my harness again, but I'm still smartin from yesterday's Houdini display. You'd think she'd be proud of a puppy who can get out of any kind of binding, but nooooooooo. She rips me a new one every friggin time! I'm all like, "Look, Ma! No hands!" But then I don't sit right for the rest of the day. And those looks . . . Shit! 'S'enough to make you feel two legs short and three feet shorter. If you've ever gotten a Mommy Mad Look, you know for sure that you never want to get another one as long as you live!

So imagine my surprise when Mommy calls me over and takes off my harness herself this morning! I shoulda known somethin was up. Too late, she was leadin me by the collar . . . that's when it hit me! B-A-T-H time! Ooooh I tried to resist, but that damned tiled floor! Never can get a grip! But it does make my butt and pawnails slide a lot, so that was a plus. 'Til Mommy did the unthinkable. To hear her tell it, sixty pounds is a LOT when it plops up against a human tryin to share my bed. Well, okay, it's her bed, but only cuz I let her get in first. Anyhoot, so when I plop on, she acts like she's tryin to move the weight of the world. Apparently sixty pounds isn't really that heavy when it's B-A-T-H time, cuz she scooped me up and had me in the tub before I could even yelp right. 'Course by then, I didn't even want to yelp anymore. What was the point? It was all downhill from there anyway.

The waterspewerthingie was already spewin, and I've gotta admit - that water was warm and tasty! No additives, no preservatives, just straight from the spewer. Yum. Next thing I know, I'm all wet. Head to tail, just friggin soaked! Even my nose got wet. And I was shakin' and pantin like a bitch in heat!! Scared off my arse, I was! And then came the bubblystuff. It was cold at first! Made the hair on my tail stand up! Then Mommy rubbed in and the bubbles came. Now normally I like bubbles, but these smelled funny and tasted like yuck when one landed on my tongue. ILCH! The only nice part was that Mommy sat on the side of the tub with her feet inside where I was. I know it was just to help keep me in place, but it sure was comforting and I loved it that she got as spewed as I did! Heh heh . . . I think my shakin helped with that, but don't tell her that.

Second round of bubblestuff'n'spewrinse wasn't so bad. By then, I was pretty used to it. I was SO friggin glad when it was over, though! I got dried with a clean towel and Mommy laid out my blankie on the floor so I could dry off my belly and soothe my wounded pride. She said I did really good, though. Yay!

All in all, it wasn't so bad. We went outside and I've gotta admit, the wind sure felt nice next to my clean skin and coat. And I'm all shiny now too! Wait til my uncles and boyfriends see me! They'll love all over me even more than normal! I hate B-A-T-Hs, but I can always stand more lovins from the two-leggeds!

Peace out, Dudes! Woof!

BPhoCed

so here i am, nearin 40, here for bout . . . mmmmm 4 months, give or take. and i'm the BPhOC. 's'right folks, i BPhOCed . . . daily, almost. and what a freakin sideshow it is! BPhOCin AY!

so here's the first installment . . . rough draft, very much preliminary . . .


secret

Eternal Chasm of Strength, I do not breathe but that I yield me to Divinity. Show me now, be seen, breathe a command, create a moment, signify and send forth Your Breath - She Your Servant, Your Command. My life, my joanna, abides . . .

This Book seems to start off beautifully, does it not?

This one verse yielded 29 pages of just one set of Greek-to-English dictionary definitions. These are definitions from one book! No wonder my friggin books cost $500 per semester! dayum!!!

but hey, it's a worthfrigginwhile investment! my ass has sorely been whipped this term, and yanna . . . i'm lovineveryminitofit.

time to get started on somethin else new . . .
hasta, peeps!
Rx

just wonderin

if i'm still bein read
been so busy
damn blog's been all but dead
craziest damn thing
happened late one night
and i'm tryin to figger
what's wrong and what's right

i wanna write a bluez song
ain't got no smoke to bear
i wanna write a true song
all the wrong words in the air
i wanna write a love song
but i can't open my wine
i wanna write a blood song
ain't got no blood that ain't mine

ain't that crazy
craziest bluez u ever heard
ain't that crazy
bein shaken and not stirred
ain't that crazy
done lost my fuckin mind
ain't that crazy
can't even open my own wine

i wanna write a bluez song
ain't got no smoke to bear
i wanna write a true song
all the wrong words up in the air
i wanna write a love song
but i can't open my own wine
i wanna write a blood song
ain't got no blood that ain't mine

ain't got no blood that ain't mine
can't even open my own wine
no broken glass
no not this time

Lost in LXTR

Ok, so I've been here in Holyville for just over a week, and I've been getting lostlostlost drivin on the roads here. First because people in this part of PA drive like fuckin MANIACS! And I mean that in the nicest and most Christian way. But FUCK!

For instance, I'm on a stretch of road where 55 is the speed limit. I'm in the slow lane cuz . . . I get lost to easily to be in the fast lane most of the time. But I'm doin 60 (or 65) in the SLOW LANE. And doofball idiots are riding so far up my ass that when I fart in my car, they say pee-you in theirs. I tap my brakes. Softly. Then so hard that CGirl thinks she's gonna go slidin off the back seat into her water bowl. No luck. Assholes apparently like to ride the assholes of others -- asshole fetishites they are, after all. So I do the only thing I can do. Stop. Right there. So suddenly that they hit the horn only because it's the only thing they can do to keep their heads from doing it for them. I laugh my ass off. They give me the evil eye as they go around me. Teeheeeheeee . . . dumbasses.

Or how about on the highway, where the speed limit is 65 and I'm doin 75 in the FAST LANE. Ya think my ass is asshole free? Nada chance. I wish I was gettin more O outta people stickin theirselves up my ass like that, but as it stands -- or sits, as the case may be -- I have to be content with slowin all the way down to 55 and grinnin like I just got laid when they give me the evil eye as they go around me.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

SO, as a new denizen of Holyville, I've been gettin lost a lot. Even got lost tryin to get outta here to go get my kid and take him back to school.

Ok, side note -- that shit ain't NEVER happenin again. Love him dearly, which is why I'm gonna LOVINGLY stick his ass on a train and LOVINGLY wave at him as the train pulls bye-bye. IF I'm in town when he arrives/departs. Or IF he's in Holyville visiting when it's time to go back. Mama's too old for that, and Froggie ain't gettin no younger neither.

Anyway, I digress . . .

So I figure out today that my drivin ain't worth shit if I'm usin a map, but if I've got TBTs, I'm good to go. So I print out my first TBT, so I can hit Wally World. See, my FiyaGrrl done turned me on to kosher baloney and hot dogs. (See what you done did, FiyaGrrl?!)

Ennyway, so I print out Wally World TBTs, and lo and behold, I make it there and back in under six hours!!!! This is truly a day for rejoicin! Right? It's a 20-minute trip -- but LostGrrl here has been turnin it into six hours on the road, only the first three of which are actually fun. (Ask CGrrl, next time she gets to blog. She'll tell ya the REAL DEAL!)

So I'm thinkin Yippeee, right? No KoBo at Wally's, but I can do the TBT thing really really well! So I print out a TBT for Weis . . . darling little LXTR chain that seems to be a favorite of my fellow Holyville denizens. It's actually CLOSER than Wally's and one of them did have my kobo last week . . .

And two hours later . . .



LOL I took a detour.



It was a axident . . .



See . . . this is wha ha happen



K, see so Weis didn't have any kosher bologna, so I started on my way back. But then I saw a GIANT. And I thought, 'Hell yea! They'll have it!' Another round of disappointment, though . . . No kobo to be found . . . so I pulled out of the parking lot . . . and turned the wrong way. Not having expected to even SEE Giant, I didn't print out turn-by-turns from there . . . Sooooo . . .



I ended up driving all the way back to Weis before I figured out, 'Hey, I should be on 462 WEST, not EAST. So I drivedrivedrivedrive til I get to a safe spot to make a yoUie, drivedrivedrivedrivedrive back down 462 West, and then make the ten-minute trip home . . .



AND STILL NO FRIGGIN KOBO!



(((((AAARRRRRGGGHHH)))))



Ok, I feel better . . .

I'm safely back in Holyville. Maybe I'll wait til after our field trip to Phily before I hunt for KoBo again.

Ah well, I did get lots of KoDogs . . . they is YUM too. My FiyaGrrl knows how to feed me, just right. Now if I can just find more KoBo to keep my new habit going . . .

CGirl's Day

Well, just so you all know, I'm pretty happy up here too. Mommy's in class for three hours a day, so I get the whole house to myself. I watch movies and listen to music, and I bark for about five minutes every morning after she leaves for class. Sometimes Mommy admonishes me to shush, but most times, she just takes it in stride that that's just part of me being . . . well, me.

So, I go for two or three walks a day, plus long drives. The long drives are mostly because Mommy gets lost when we're coming home from wherever she drives us to. The good news is that she actually likes getting lost -- but I've gotta tell ya, after about six hours of getting lostedness, I'm really ready to just get home and into some serious pee-and-nap time. Mommy can just stop in some gas station -- but me, I'm pretty picky about where I pee. It's gotta be near home, otherwise -- in the words of Morgan Freeman in Shawshank, "I can't squeeze a drop." 'Course, Mommy's pretty picky too, but I've got picky down to a science.

Speaking of home, though, here I am today, hangin out on Monk Walk.

I like Monk Walk. Mommy can grab a smoke and I can say hi to all the two-leggeds that come my way. That's one of the coolest changes so far. Before I moved here, I used to be scared of EVERYTHING and everybody. My tail would go immediately between my legs and I would just cower everytime I went out anywhere or anytime anybody came near me. Now, I just growl a little -- and, hey, if you know me then you know that my growl means nada -- but my tail just wags and wags until my whole body is doing the wag-me dance. I just wanna know EVERYBODY, sniff their hands -- but Mommy won't let me sniff their butts. She says it's impolite to two-leggeds cuz they don't like having their butts sniffed. Oh well, they'll adapt. She says that soon, I'll have many more four-leggeds here, so that'll be really cool. I like the kitties across the hall, but I don't think they're used to the C4s like I'm used to the F4s. I think that they think that all C4s wanna do is chase and scare the F4s, but that ain't so. Ah well, they'll adapt.

Anyway, I think Mommy needs to do some laundry and unpacking cuz there's stuff EVERYWHERE. She told me that we're getting a new bed tomorrow AND two used chairs and a coffee table next week. WOW! All new furniture stuffs for me to hang out on while Mommy is in class.

I think I like it here. The H2s are really friendly and patient, and I don't get so scared of their cars and trucks like I did in that big city I used to live in. I get to run around on grass a lot, and when Mommy says, "Go say hi," I really do wanna go say hi. I like wagging my tail when H2s approach, much more than walkin round with it between my legs, and EVERYBODY smells either like F4s or C4s -- which really makes it easy for me to want to say hi. PLUS, I like the small town life. Livin is easy and except for having to share the bed, I like hangin out with Mommy most of the day and all through the night.

Well, I'd better jump off here so Mommy can go do laundry.

Have a good weekend everybody -- and to all my C4s out there . . .

WOOF, Dude! Peace out!

'Tis official . . . I am . . . a Seminarian. A Punk Preacher. A Mystic Minister.

Somehow, this seems a bit twisted . . . Rychus, yet . . .

Five books. One class. Three weeks. Five frickin books. Thick little fuckers too. Glad this is the short term and I get a break at the end of it. LoverGrrl, I dunno which of us is travelin to see whom but I've been feelin the urge to merge every second since our last mergickal moment . . . ain't never been so whipped in my life and I dunno if livin here in Holyville's done upped the ante, but before you came along it had been SO long since I'd touched . . . SO long . . . since . . . I'd wanted . . . I can't wait to give you me and have you . . . over and over again.

Hooray for Holyville, yea?

So, the new space still needs to get unpacked but ltlCgirl is havin the time of her life . . . so excited to be comin out o'her shell that she sacks out from the fatigue of finally bein a friendly four-legged and I just hafta shake ma heayud and laff my ass off at her. Til, of course, she decides that under-my-butt is the best place to keep her tired-from-runnin-EH-VA-REE-WHERE toodles warm at night. LtlShit, she is, but that's what I get for fallin in love with the ears that go poinkpoink when she's all happy and jumpin round like the Banshee she is.

LOVE bein in my own space. LOVE FUCKIN IT. My shit. My peace. My quiet. My noise. My newfound thug music love. (Yea, it's a fuckin hoot . . . go gangsta . . . keep poppin . . . rock witme let's git this bitch poppin . . . go gangsta . . . git rockin . . . like back when tha nigga was clockin . . . Fuckin Ay!

Tho lately, with the final projects from . . . well, here in Holyville, I'm guessin they're from UpThere . . . loomin on the horizon, it's been more Yanni than Gangsta -- I gotta figure out what I'm doin cuz three weeks ain't shit, knowhadeyemean?

Pretty up here in Holyville. Think I'm gonna love it for the next three years. My space. My shit. My life . . . and MyLoverGrrl . . . It's a fuckin hoot, ain't it just?

Where am I this eve?

Hell, I dunno . . . somewhere suspended between passion and rage. Sometimes it feels as if I live within that suspension -- as if something waits to trigger my rage as soon as I feel an inkling of passion.

My Passion, she is my Light and Life, my Laughter and my Longing. Spending our first Yule/Christmas/Solstice in the warmth of her home, in her city and in her arms, . . . this was so much a loving learning time for us. To learn how to interweave passion and patience into our day-to-day life, balancing the Es and the Es within the braid that holds us together . . .

MyPassion, do you know how your loving me as you do arouses within me the desire to love you all the more? Do you know, PassionateOne, how my desire to love you all the more makes me long and ache for you, even moments after your truck pulls away and my plane leaves the air strip? LoverMine, I miss you . . . so very much. Selah.

The rage that awaited, anticipating my return from your arms . . . it is becoming, more and more, less than the nothing that it can only aspire to be. I think that is, perhaps, the problem -- that something that what was once actually something to me is quickly fading into less than nothing with every aggravation that it is responsible for bringing into my life. As in Merlin, when things become forgotten, they . . . cease . . . to . . . exist. They become angry, irrational, writhing and grabbing onto whatever shreds are left dangling in the wind.

I used to be that wraith. Happy New Year to the one who showed me that I'm better than that.

And Happy New Year to YOU, MyPassion, MyFiyaX2. This year is only the beginning of what I have in store for you, LoverGrrl . . . only the beginning . . .

It's all about the O

Ever had one of those Os that was so intense that u felt like u coulda gave birth to it and named it BobbySue or some other such absurdity in the midst of singin 'Our God Is An Awesome God' and 'The Only Time' -- as in NIN -- and u felt like a three month old tryin to crawl but not even yet masterin the whole rolloveronyertummy trick?

FUCK!

Yea, literally.

So eye woke up this mornin with this slickwet fantasy in mah head and in case u want a hint, LoverGirl, here ya go: TS. Now, of course, only u n eye no what that means, so eye no that u no that just typin the tee n the ess -- oh, es -- churned things up just a bit 4 ltl RuBlu heeyah. C now whatcha made me go n do . . . now eye gotta go take care o'this b4 ix drops m'dang van off. U no, Fiya, that we still gotta christen her -- the van, eye mean -- rite n proper . . . whoowee FiyaX2n2Mo . . . betta make sho we not by no gas pumps, no whaddeyemean?

Mymymy . . . the things eye think about when eyem sposed ta be workin . . .

Leven mo days, My Fiya . . . jes leven mo . . .

Stay off the sidewalks, Kiddies!

Rublu's done gone'n'got'er license!!!!!!

Oh and if yer one of the ones that's done pissed me off recently . . .

And then I woke up . . .

My Braxtin,

I miss you, Baby . . . like the sand misses the rain, I've missed you this morning, over and over again.

I just wanted to tell you . . . that . . .
I miss your eyes
I miss your smile
I miss the way you move
I miss your voice coming from just in the next room
I miss your whisper, so close to my ear
I miss your arm around me, in the night and in the morn
I miss holding you close to me and feeling you hold me close to you
I miss watching you walk
I miss your hat on backward
I miss sitting directly across from you, deep in conversation
I miss seeing your whole face light up, when you smile and when you laugh
I miss seeing the depth of emotion in your eyes, when you speak or hear of sad things
I miss feeling the heat of the fire, when you become enflamed with rage . . . and desire
I miss touching your face, anytime and everywhere
I miss the way you smile at me, in those moments when only I can see
I miss feeling you watching me . . . and hearing the change in your breathing when you realize that I'm only acting as if I don't know
I miss feeling you watching me . . . and hearing the change in your breathing when you know that I know just what you're feeling as I watch you, watching me

But mostly . . .

I miss being able to see your love for me reflected in your eyes when you're looking deep into my soul, and you're saying, "I love you. I fuckin LOVE YOU."

You are my world, My Sweet Lover . . . you are the delight in my heart, the churning my soul, and the light in my eyes. I miss everylittlething about you . . . and I can't wait until I can feel you next to me once again.

Your Angel

I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes
I am struck
By the feather
of your soft
Reply
The sound of glass
Speaks quick
Disdain
And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain

~jim morrison

beloved,
this is what it is
to be beloved

when words prove inadequate
held against
a touch of your lips
the softness in your eyes
the sweetness of your belly
breathing in time
with me

lovedbe,
this is what it is
to be lovedbe

when the drum of your heart racing
drowns out all but the music
that captures in my heart
the way you look at me
as if i am fine art

you touch me as if i were beautiful glass
that you are afraid you might shatter
if you
touch me too much

you arouse in me things that i
had long since forgotten
or never knew could
exist
out here in reality

you
maketh me to lie down
in green pastures
no
that is God
showing up once again
within a beloved
lovedbe

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when i feel you watchin me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when i feel you wantin me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when your smile caresses me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when you reach out wantin me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when i am your
lovedbe

Fannin the flames, I become lightheaded from the heat I've helped
create. Fire tender, I love the sound of the rain & the wind in the
trees . . . Selah

Sittin here, watchin these flames, I think of the fire that exists within each of us, and the fire that we together create. Why is it
that you cannot see my fire? Are there other things of me that i can see,
but that you cannot? Believing is seeing . . . As with God, one must
believe first. Sight does not precede faith. Sight follows faith.