T's blog: "life..."

finding a bit of a different way these days... 'cause at heart i love my chaos but it takes me out too far eyes gain shade, mind can blur yet what i want... to be that liminal creature who looks best at dawn and dusk who wakes with a smile to wax poetic over coffee throws good deeds at the day and spins fueled by smoke and fire into the night but this my body now disallows and 'yes' can't be my constant reply

20 minutes time folds in, stretches out. it is not a thing to rest trust upon. i sit to reflect, to breathe and 20 minutes is longer than a roadtrip i took once. 20 minutes. the time it takes to make coffee, then sip it with a cigarette. At average speed i make it to work in 20 minutes. by foot. around 20 minutes is my average long distance sunday afternoon chitchat. 20 minutes with a migrane or 20 minutes making love. i dare you to tell me that these measure up as equal. 20 minutes in line and 20 minutes laughing with a good friend. surely one stretches beyond what i can endure while the other barely allow me to settle in. so, once again, i say time doesn't measure up; nor should it be used to measure by. today 20 minutes with myself. too long for comfort and much much too short. this self i'm left with, what i measure time by.

purple hair in the light...red up close what to say if anything, or how to fill in the air then we fell back again and listened to the talk words of happy or go lucky or you fill it in 'leave some balance baby' overheard in a day lit bar on purple brick wrapped by black iron spoken by a boy in black hair pulled by nervous, or anxious, or just plain bored hands maybe just the need to do something, subconcious action made by overmoving mind hand then he came that gap toothed smile well spaced friend the one filled with too much thought...thinking past color, past what fiber can stand he sat. i smiled. and we spun it back and started again.

i don't want to be a good woman... i want to be an exceptional one i want to know my mind and speak it so that others can hear it i want to trust my heart and know how to follow it i want to know my truth and be strong enough to stand by it i want to give my word and line up my thoughts and actions behind it i want to own my life and be responsible for running it and honey, i wanna have fun every darn minute of it 'cause i don't wanna be a good woman i wanna be an exceptional one

Waiting. For a drink, for a show, for a moment, for the right time. It's the anticipation that I'm waiting for. Zippers and tights, laughter and red wine slipping to the floor; getting ready for the evening is more fun than what we're priming for. The ride took cramped days, unstretched legs. There were bathrooms that made as swear we could hold it and gallons of blackened sugary, caffineated water that promised we couldn't. You fell asleep and I couldn't reach the CD's. Sleepy eyes created flocks of birds on empty freeways. All this and more we endured to get there, yet while the trip remains clear, I can no longer remember the where that was there. The firsts...kiss, move, adventure, love, heartbreak, travel, glimpse, lick and taste, it's the anticipation I recall. I anticipate missing you, later will I rembember your name? Getting there is half the fun they say, but is there anything or anyone half worth the loss of anticipating for?

sitting alone with time and wine and trees... thinking that nothing means love like listening.. and nothing pretends like thought... words discuss and impress... they hide and decide.. and once, when given a moment, they slip slide into that deeper movement with skin pressed to air.. when moment is there and that that is this is given... and then..there is this nothing...the best gift i've ever been given... is all else that gives us excuse to be true...with that 'oh so not me' subtract contract. but there is the who behind…and we all know....why we search for excess.... it's in hearts hurting, mind bending, scab picking messiness.. its in hope sinking, love making, heart breaking... it's what makes us.. it's in where we hide...velvet and suede....rough edges..torn hems... it be where this me meets what i can't see..and why in the wide open we hide... and sit I now smoking..and still..past the addiction is the feeling... alone, to be... on a reservation i learned what smoke should be. i do not live it, but i could preach it. what better than to see a moment...than to feel a prayer? for there is a reason that all faith feels something sacred there. in the smoke is a sense...a sense of what? well lets see? impermanence? certainly? in the meaning of me becoming thee...of floating away? of course? but in this culture at this time...this is not the ritual. but in the smoke...or the smoking of...we go...to be with ourselves, to breathe on our own... to find comfort in eyes that slide away..that give us our own. because we aren't standing..we aren't thinking...we aren't being...for god sakes, we're just smoking...so leave us the fuck alone... words be a funny thing to me…means birth and what may come in threes. like life, wisdom, death... and all that else may be. but in the middle comes moments like these. when time may stop, events may cease, and i bow my head down to one i'm glad to have met... sees and cease..so close in sound..and from what i know both in proximity are found... funny how words be like that...and a good reason why each contact deserves a second look... .. and i do sit here in the trees..with the rain..a dog at my knees..thinking of how this week has been..for me and you my friend, and in all honesty...and hopefully skippin hallmark miderocrasy ( i can't spell) i'm just glad that in the quick movements...in what they call the hard times...there is this....good words, new friends, trees deep in needles, rain deep in promise, life deep in nonsense, and laughter always surpassing sadness...and that darlin, is more than a reason than all the smoke in the world to be happy, to breathe...