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  1. I will begin by saying I have been as dry for word as the dirt beneath my South Texas feet has been for rain. I have taken myself to the brink of my own sanity, aching , crying, praying, begging for the waters of my creativity to flood as the Midwest U.S. But I am still without, this clouded brain of mine denies the page, and leaves it without ink to suffice the drought.



    Let it pass, this ever present darkness that has shadowed my path. My own demon, a stalking reminder of my neglected faith. The thing on the bus, we locked eyes. It and I... Eye to eye. Remember old Nemesis, just as I remember this. Beneath my shelter I hid my friend~better me , better me, better me, than them. And again you return like before, when I no longer recognize your knock on my minds door. Or so you think, but old friend I know you even at the brink of my own sanity. I am correct to assume you are a fan of me? Casualties of the heart, very cunning indeed. But did it not spite me? Then I shall pluck that seed. You need not remind me of the battle you have won, like the others before, for I stand tall and unscathed and will remain victor of this war. AMEN!
  2. You do not know me and I do not know you. I do not know if you have lost a Mother or Father, Son or Daughter, Sister or Brother or best friend; two legged or four. But I want to talk about death, and what of it I know. I could start with the death of me, figuratively, but what is that but wasted breathe?
    In August, my girlfriends family friend of YEARS, blew his brains out. In the truck he had owned, in his Mamas yard, just blew his brains out. Donald had late stage MS, He could not live in tha condition anymore. Did it affect me? Well of course, this was my loves extended family. They are a community, like, it takes a village to raise a child, type community.
    Two weeks later, his Dad, Buck while working on the local church, died of a heart attack. Fred Burke was working with Buck that day, and one week later, he died...of a stroke. A week after that , my beloved little four legged baby, my and Tammies first, was killed. We were devastated, and still are. I love you Bogie...I love you.
    Do not think that I am minimizing human life, but this loss, of Bogie, DESTROYED us. I do not want to get to deep, because I alone had to lay him to rest. It still haunts me... and I go to his grave and stack his rocks and tell the little boy, I love him.
    I am not finished...
    About two weeks after my boy died, My grandfather died. He had kicked me off his land when I was 19 because I was lesbian, told me not to come back. July before last we reunited and he told me for the first time in fifteen years he loved me. He asked me to call him and please come back...I did not. I did not even know what to call him... I lost my chance.
    One day before that my Uncle on my daddies side passed... i could not make that funeral...I am sorry Uncle Jim.
    But of all this death and mayhem and tears and sadness... this reckoning with death... and the fact that it waits for me, you...US. Inevitable death. Inevitable. Let me talk with you about the feeling I had this weekend.
    My girlfriends second Mama, You know, her best friends mama, who loved her like her own... had "the plug pulled". I had met her one time in the five years Tammie and I have been together. We came into her room Saturday morning, no family had arrived. She lifted her hand and waved at me. Now the Drs. and Nurses said she was completely unresponsive. But to me, that tear in her eye, that squeeze on Tammies hand, tht wave in my direction, prooved otherwise. But she would live the rest of her days with an injection to remove the fluids, an injection to stop the pain, an injecton to "make her comfortable". Oh God help her... I prayed. But I knew the inevitable was coming within the hour. Although I prayed it would not. I called my very spiritual Daddy to pray, I prayed.
    Soon the family came out in tears, it was that time, time to pull it. I rushed to her bedside with no family around, only Doctors waiting to do what was to be done. I asked if I could pray for her. They asked me please, take your time. Remember, I had only met this woman once. As I took her hand, with her eyes looking into mine, I said " Joan, I am going to pray for your soul and your salvation." She blinked at me with a tear in the corner of her eye. I will not tell you of the prayer, between God, Her and I...
    but I will say, she understood. This, that, Saturday, was her day to leave this world, and she and I understood that together. This woman I barely knew.
    I guess there is no point to this. Only that I have been effected, and that death is not our worst enemy, but our best friend. Because death is there, waiting for all of us. In the end, there will be death, even if there is noone else. Rest in Peace all my loved ones, and yours too. Love and be loved...everyday. Let's talk abot death...
    Is it Your turn? Your Mams? Daddies? Your childs? LOVE DAMNIT!!!!!! LOVE NOW!!!!!!!! feel me?
  3. I am sitting looking out the window open in front of me. I have a glass of wine, a very rare occasion. I have no pad nor pen or preconceived notion of what I am may share or what I may not. I hope you do not either.
    Palm trees sway in the wind, the sun shines cars drive by, children play the games of my youth and I am jealous. I want to play too.
    What I am doing instead is dwelling on the fact that I did not get back to my Mama today. Or the day before that, or the day before that, for that matter. (Say that ten times over) You know what else I am doing? Of course you don't. I am listenig to my girlfriend tell me her best friend of 30 years Mama is dying of cancer. She's crying. This is grown-up ****. Grow-up **** sucks.
    Oh the irony...
  4. I often find myself worrying about peoples opinion of me, while pretending I do not. For example, I spent some time with a company that had many employees. I whistled while I worked, sang little pieces of songs, walked with a natural pep in my step. I felt happy, I had always been this way. Not long into my stay, I noticed snide looks from individuals, sideways glances. Not long after that, some of these same people came to me and said "Why are you always so happy? Why do you smile so much?" Now, that didn't ask me this with a pleasant, receptive smile on their faces. It was more of a "What's wrong with you?" tone. I would be lying if I said this did not have a negative effect on me. I started to question other peoples perception of me. Do they think I am wierd? Am I projecting something that angers people, with my joy?
    I no longer work with that company, but it did put out a shining light. I have since found myself walking with my head down, looking at the stained sidewalk and land mine filled grass. Well, until recently that is. When I said to myself, "Find your voice again, be who you are." For crying out loud I made a sign out of driftwood that says just that. "Practice what you preach grrl!"
    So I did. And guess what, some people still think I am 'strange' or 'wierd' and the everpresent 'crazy'... in a good way, of course. :) And I am happy with that, with being me. I do not want to be like you or her or him or them. What a bland colorless world we would live in, to all be the same.
    So now I smile, laugh, whistle and sing. Make up impromptu lyrics or poetry and say it aloud so I do not forget. Or rather frantically search for pad and pen. Whatever. As juvenile as the word may come across. We all have lights, let them shine and let noone steal your joy. Think about that... to be labeled as a joy stealer. I choose to live, laugh and love.
  5. I have never blogged. I do not know the first thing about it. Well, maybe the first and second thing. It is a web log and it has to be about something or nothing. Would one say that is 1)Not at all accurate
    2)Fairly accurate
    3)Accurate
    ...question mark. I did not feel the need for symbol as I stated it. This is a q u e s t i o n :D
    I am staring out through the vertical vanes of my window shade. The gray, blue cold mirroring Picassos Blue period, except for the occasional streak of red. Red truck, red soda machine, red telephone booth. I cannot help but dwell on this for a moment. RED. I can see that my employers door is closed, as for now I am safe. She will not come out to see me in this overcast so I am free to write willy nilly about nothing... or something.
    The hinges of the pool gate squeek as they open... oops..it's my friend Mary. I am going to visit. I am sure I will return.