There is no question in my mind about being blocked right now.

I can’t write.

I can’t create.

I can’t commit.

I can’t eat well.

I can’t move.

I am stuck…

I’m not sure if it’s because I am concerned about how specific others will construe what I write…if I will offend, hurt or damage already fragile relationships. I sincerely do wish now that this blog had never been shared or discovered by those closest to my heart because now I can’t write with the voice that needs most to express itself. The fact that I am still wrapped up emotionally with one woman while trying desperately to make a new life with another is only the beginning of the reasons for my angst ridden state. There is so much more to me and my eccentricities then the neurotic, self-gratifying, impatient, seeking-perfection and oh-so-NOT-perfect, shouldn’t be throwing stones – women in my life. (Touch of bitter fuck you! perhaps…)

However…time to be proactive and give this mental constipation a much need laxative!

I’ve decided to take the Nanowrimo challenge in a more personal way then it is intended. For those of you unaware of what Nanowrimo is, it’s a national writing challenge. An incentive for delinquent writers like me to get off their asses and write that fucking novel! When is it you ask? Why November of course. 30 days of pounding out 6-7 pages of type every day for the entire month. Yup. Some genius out there decided November was NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth and writers across the planet are pissing themselves with anticipation, self doubt, excitement and belly-flops. God only knows how many stressors have been triggered, but hey, at least we writers get a month to vomit out our scribe-babies and maybe even accomplish what has thus far only been dreamed of – actually writing that fucking novel!

I, on the other-hand, don`t need anymore stressors in my life right now. I am full to the brim and my Depends can`t hold anymore piss. So, I have decided that next year I will join the frantic cue of neuroses waiting to be unleashed – perhaps. For now I am going to accept the challenge but write in the comfort of my own blog where I can write whatever I want without guidelines and perhaps not even an ending. And what will I write about you ask…

My story.

Yup. I`ve decided that I need to unleash the demons and discover the truth buried deep DEEP down inside of me. A truth some reveal in therapy and others reveal when tequila is abundant. Well, I can`t afford therapy and I will do my best to stay away from the tequila when I scribe out my baby…but as it happens, I have found some of my truth buried deep within that magical mystical intoxicated worm.

It`s been a complicated, beautiful-ugly life and one that I have considered ending one too many times but for the grace of…whoever is watching over me. I have decided that my life, as ugly and shameful and horrific and sparing and lively and wonderful and surreal as it has been is worth a write or two, and perhaps will even make a good read for anyone interested…And if I am really REALLY fortunate, it may help a like-experienced weary traveler on a self-destructive path to realize that they are not alone. That life has meaning even when it seems impossible to find.

So, over the next two weeks I am going to think, plot and probably redo the face of this blog cuz it needs a more personal touch. I might design a header if WordPress allows…or I might just make it all a moody black. Don`t know yet. Just letting whatever feels right happen to it and to me right now. I am giving up control. Having said that, I will caution any readers of this blog that my story may not be an easy one to read and I will not varnish anything to make it prettier or more palatable. Life is messy. Life is cruel. Life is not fair. But life does teach us some valuable lessons if we an open our hearts and minds to the teachings.

I am just one humble human of billions.

With a story.

But this one will be mine.

For me.

Finding Fucking Zen!

Seriously having a hard time holding onto and keeping my Zen. Little tastes of serenity are not conducive to peace of mind. I’m learning to follow my spiritual path – exploring how to heal myself and walk tirelessly with my heart of compassion – listening closer to the voice within to guide my decision making process… but how the FUCK do I do that when the challenges keep surpassing the teachings! Enough with the tests pleeeeease! I’m really trying here, ya know. Do you HEAR me? I’m done!!!


To Come…

The past two days have been spent fixing my broken technology…grrr. The kid has moved in with me and had my computer locked into a music streaming website. Can you say virusssss? So after two formats, several reinstalls and a massive headache which no amount of Advil relieved, I am happy to announce my tek-muse is functioning again. I need my desktop for grounding when I write. This little message is coming from my Samsung phone but the whole process


flimsy and weak and completely uninspiring so this just won’t do. Of course, a true writer could perform on any medium I suppose… Hmmm. But we all have preferences and I choose my desktop dammit!

Soooo…I’m off to spend some time away from my own company – a much needed break from this mind and it’s never ending chatter which can illuminate and bog down at the same time – and hopefully I come back refreshed and ready to write. I’ve been doing some research on character attributes of the Gemini human being and my synapses are in overload as the dots connect and the “ah ha!” moments collide. Man oh man! All I will say for the moment is I think I finally see how and why I tick as I do.



I’ve been struggling with coming back to this blog for months. At first it was because P was reading my most intimate thoughts and to be honest, most of it was about her and my feelings towards her – the love, the hate,  the want, the need, the desire, the confusion and most of all the hurt. A hurt so deep it crippled me to the point I couldn’t share it, release it or even begin to understand why it was happening.

So I shut it all off.
The pain was too unbearable.

I wanted to scream at her for causing me such heart break. I wanted to write horrible things that I knew would hurt her in the reading of the words. I wanted to hurt her the way she had hurt me. Deeply. Profoundly. Everlasting. A deep festering wound in her soul that would never truly heal. I wanted her to know the pain I felt when she left me to pursue her own happiness…something it killed me to understand that she couldn’t seem to do with me…

But I couldn’t be that cruel.

Never that cruel to someone I had once loved to the point of distraction unending. She had been my universe, my one great love,  my heart…my lobster.

So instead, for months I have been aching to write out my heart, needing emotional release, wanting to continue my story with all the pain and angst and soul destroying heartache but I have been shut up in a bubble of denial and half truths – none of which I wanted to bring to the surface and deal with honestly and openly.

But the long and short of it simply put?

I have a broken heart.

Nothing extraordinary.
Nothing never experienced by countless others.
Nothing a thousand poems, well meaning friends and self help books can’t address.

Yet because it is my heart, this breakage is like no other and the descent of sufferance has been nearly insurmountable.

And through it all my words have grown still and quiet. My muse silenced. Blocked by the pain. And this amputation of my greatest gift has withered my body and mind. I have missed the writing. Craved it like a starving cat. The free flowing thoughts from mind to fingertip. The release of expression no matter the content. No matter the cost. No matter the vulnerability and exposure. I need to fill that capacity like my lungs need air. There is no me, no life…no anything without my words.

I have returned.


I keep looking for you
In the script of your heart
Even tho I’ve asked you erase the pages
Is it wrong of me
To want your words to me
To continue thru all of the ages?

I miss
I miss
I miss
What I felt with you

Deep in the quiet
I hear only your whispers
Of love and promises broken
I on my own
Am in saddened transition
From words I wish had been spoken

This life has tested
Every ounce of my being
Pushed into raw and naked places
I’m grateful for you
And the lessons I’ve learned
But I live now in the empty spaces

Still searching
Always searching

Broken Woman

Broken Woman

Found this recently and loved it. Both for its artistic expression and its appropriateness. If she were brown-skinned and howling at the moon, she would be I. Didn’t name the photo, but knew a soul felt relate-ability. Props to the artist and thanks…she’s my wallpaper and will be for awhile. A reminder that I am fluid and strong, even when feeling weak.

Once More…

If you could see me now
Living in the hollowed out existence
Of my yesterdays with you
Clinging to the truest
Most complete sense
Of belonging to anyone
I have ever experienced
Aching to breathe in my air
And soak in my skin
The living scent of you
With all its beautiful layers
Of exquisite arousal
And peaceful contentment
Distinctly you
And only you
If you could live inside my life
For just a fraction
You would leave it
Never again in doubt
For you would know
That I would give anything
To be in that place
That heavenly place
Sharing in a love so…
Distinctly mine
Forever yours
Perfectly ours
Where we would fit intrinsically
Limbs entwined
Lips a breath away
Once more

I miss our love


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