4 years ago today.

April 28, 2001

It rained buckets. Water was ankle deep in places, and Key West is not known for it's drainage. We lived 5 blocks away from El Siboney, and John wanted to go there for his birthday dinner. He was in remission but the treatments had left his once barrel frame of 220 lbs down to 123. He was skeletal and unable to walk more than a few feet. So I helped him into the wheelchair he detested, and we walked. And it poured endless gallons of water on our heads. We got there and they offered us towels, and teased John by carding him for his one beer (against doctors orders). We both ate Pallomina Steak and plantains (sp?). I took him home full and contented to leftover birthday cake from the previous weekend's trip to La Tratoria's with his sister and brother in law, a much less festive affair, since they were threatening to take him out of my care. It was a simple birthday, and the next year's (and last)birthday was with his kids, and very noisy. He said the rainy birthday was his favorite.
Well baby it's raining today, but cold instead of steamy. I'm in my apartment waiting for takeout salad and Survivor to come on ( a fave of yours). I am living a life now you would never have approved of. You would not recognize me now, looks or personality wise. But know this: men may come and men may go in my life, but I will never love as fiercely as I loved, and still love, you. I will love differently, passionately, but never again fiercely. Happy birthday baby.

Poetry alert on John's 56th Birthday

Kelly from Dilletante, a good but far flung friend of mine, left this on a coment from my last post. Since today would have been John's 56th birthday, I considered it very sweet of her to post it and extremely timely.

"I was reading a book of pagan poetry, and came across this:

HEARTSTONE By Patricia Wellington-Jones

Years after her husband died
she placed crushed mugwort in her left nostril,
stepped into the labyrinth, trod
the gravel path between lines of stone
A few twists an acorn rolling
between thumb and warm palm, she was surprised
to find her late love beside her deliberate steps.
the sun beat on her hated head, the path
wound and wound and wound.
After several turns she stopped resisting.
let him fill her body with tears
she'd long thought shed. Stunned
at an outer ring, her feet refused to move.
Amid rough lava and mica-chipped stone,
one not-too-large river cobble: smooth
and gray, inviting her fingers, with a heart
sunken in the matrix of white. She felt her love
take her hand, lead her to the center. There,
in a rock hollow, she added the acorn to lichen
cedar tip, faded flowers.
Expecting to feel calmed, she started
the outward trek, found tears spilling over
at the heartstone. With a sense of sacriledge,
she fished a tissue from her jeans and,
in one sharp blast, blew away the tears--
and mugwort. A final pat of stone,
a few steps further on the gravel, her hair lifted
in the refreshing breeze. She felt her husband's
smile rise over the oaks. Pace still deliberate,
heart and feet light, she stepped quickly from the guidance of the labyrinth
to the tangle of everyday."

Thanks Kelly :D

Water under the bridge-9 days

I realize I haven't been posting much, in fact for 9 days. I've been pondering what can happen in such a short time. In 9 days a new pope can be elected. Two small children can wander away from a home in Georgia, never to return. A chance to help start a business can fall into one's lap. A new possible love can begin to take root. I suppose I have been just swamped with too much to handle at once, and needed time to absorb it all in. I have been faithfully keeping up with Kelly's (dilettante) and Clint's(bluefairlane) blogs with a mix of pride of knowing them and jealousy of their prolific writing skills. Tomorrow John would have been 56 years old. I had my first encounter with a million dollar race horse, only for it to try to bite my left breast off lol.
In short, I feel like a piece of silly putty that can be enlarged by bulling in all directions. The putty can never be uniformly enlarged, and is always misshapen. But stretch it does in new directions.

Kentucky in Springtime and the allergies are in bloom..

I just about drowned in my own nasal fluids this weekend after whatever pretty flower or tree it was that does this bloomed. Spring is my favorite time of year, I absolutely adore the flowers; forsynthia, dogwoods, wisteria, etc. But they don't love me. I am an allergy sufferer that lives in the worst state for allergies in the US. Yes I am a moron. It's kinda hard to work either job when one is coughing up chunks of lung. So for the second time in as many weeks, I went to the fucking doctor's office. 40 bucks worth of co-pay later, I'm on Zyrtec. I haven't taken it yet, I'm waiting for dinner first. Maybe one day I will wise up and move back to Wyoming where allergies don't exist....

Nope Im not lost, call off the search party!!!

I know I have been short of posting the last few weeks. Im working two jobs now so no free time. I have been reading my friends blogs, and have been delighted on how spring has been decent to us all. My friendship with Daniel grows daily, and makes me happy. So I'm short of posting material, but knowing me, something will happen sooner or later:P

Daniel

YIKES!!!

I'm having a full blown, Danger Will Robinson moment. I went to a swing party in Prestonsburg, KY this weekend to bartend and play. I have decided not to do the second job during swing parties. It was suggested to me by a wise reader that I needed to have a spiritual-sexual outlet, and the swing parties will be it. So Mr. Cool, shackup, and myself got to Jenny Wiley State Park
(http://parks.ky.gov/jwiley2.htm) around 7 ish to met up with our friends who were hosting the party. Mr. Cool had rented a cabin beside theirs so the party could overflow one to the other. Anyway, we walked in and along with our friends there was a local there who was interested in the group: Daniel. He was, at first look, about my age, 5'9ish, dark hair and eyes. I was looking at him and warning bells started ringing, which I took note of but didn't really listen to. We started talking about computers, which snowballed to witchcraft (He had studied it) and books (we ended up having read the same obscure ones). More alarm bells, and more dismissal of them. He ended up getting stuck behind some parked cars and stayed talking to 3am. The next day I went hiking with more friends, but kept thinking about him. I decided if I played, he was going to be it. Daniel had another party so he didn't show up until later that night. As for the party, I bartened for tips, had lots of guys flirt. It was a good time. Then he walked through the door about midnight. I made it a point to close the bar at 12:30. There was another guy wanting to play with me, but he had been with 3 others in the space of 5 hours, so I wasn't interested. This guy persisted, so I caught Daniel in the bathroom and asked if he wanted to meet me outside to go to the other cabin and play. He agreed to my delight, and we went to the other cabin.

Now long-suffering readers will remember the incredibly good time I had at the Valentine's day dance with Tyler. Daniel turned into being a million times better. I was in heaven for 2 hours. Then we ended up at the other cabin with a room to ourselves, and ended up collapsing at 6 am. He was loving and kind and there was a chemistry there I hadn't felt in a LONG TIME, hence the warning alarms. I have been home about an hour and already got a quick note from him. He doesn't know that I'm an escort. He lives in John's Creek, 3 hours away from me. There are so many many ways this could kick the shit out of my heart. Daniel is the first guy I have had this feeling about in a long long time. All I can think is that he has the potential to turn my crazy world even more upside down. And yet....I am waiting for his IM feeling wistful: and ignoring those damn mental alarms:P

Living in the moment, and a lyrics alert at the same time!

"Blue Sky"
The Allman Brothers

Walk along the river, sweet lullaby, it just keeps on flowing,
It don't worry 'bout where it's going, no, no.
Don't fly, mister blue bird, I'm just walking down the road,
Early morning sunshine tell me all I need to know

You're my blue sky, you're my sunny day.
Lord, you know it makes me high when you turn your love my way,
Turn your love my way, yeah.

Good old sunday morning, bells are ringing everywhere.
Goin to Carolina, it won't be long and I'll be there

You're my blue sky, you're my sunny day.
Lord, you know it makes me high when you turn your love my way,
Turn your love my way, yeah.


I have been on an euphoric high for days. I have no idea what the hell is going on with me. It might be the fact that for the first time in years I'm not worrying about money. Maybe its the pure energy of exercise. My friend John claims he is sending me healing energy, which is possible. He packs some mean mojo. The best way to explain the feeling is that I feel serene. I got a comment from Outcast asking me if this was the way I was going to live my life, or just live in the moment and see what happens. Well the answer is this: if this is what it feels like to live in the moment, then the moment is where I will stay. Until the circle turns again.

Death and life and death.

My grandmother always says that with the rebirth of spring death steps up the pace. Saul Bellow. Terri Schiavo. Pope JP II. Prince Rainier. Plus millions of others not so famous or infamous. I suppose when Persephone returns from Hades, there's some sort of trade. The sap rises, and the decay of the previous year feeds the new growth. The lessons we have learned from the lives of those leaving feed and sustain us (if we are wise enough to listen). I wouldn't mind dying in the spring. The last vision in my eyes being the blooming flowers, hopefully the first roses of the season. Everything fresh and green and wholesome. Sprinkle my ashes partially with the roses, the rest in the sea. And I would be pleased.

Some thoughts

Wikipedia(http://en.wikipedia.org)has a interesting definition of the word "Hierodule"

"In ancient Greece and Anatolia a hierodule, from Greek hiero- "holy" and doule "female slave", was a temple slave in the service of a specific deity, often with the connotation of religious prostitution. The priestesses of Inanna were known to be hierodules.
Among some neopagans, a hierodule may be a priestess who has sex in the role of whichever Goddess she serves in the divine union of hieros gamos."

My buddies at Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary are, as always, more direct:
"Main Entry: hi·ero·dule
Pronunciation: 'hI-(&-)rO-"dü(&)l, hI-'er-&-, -"dyü(&)l
Function: noun
Etymology: Late Latin hierodulus, from Greek hierodoulos, from hieron temple + doulos slave
: a slave or prostitute in the service of a temple (as in ancient Greece)"

I have been ruminating on this word for two weeks, as I have taken to being an escort. I will categorically state that I have no shame in what I am doing. I have met men that I would never EVER meet anywhere else. All of them (so far) have been educated, successful, intelligent men. I have been feted, complemented, and showered with attention. Once I was compared to a Renaissance painting (Ruebens naturally LOL) and called every variation of beautiful. Trust me, this is healing the inner Ugly Teenager that has been rampaging for several years. Far from feeling badly, I'm trying to figure out how to do this as my sole method of bread winning and painting in my spare time. Then as I was reading on the net and the word hierodule popped out. Is this what I am, or was at some point. I feel a spiritual communion during the act of sex. Love will always be the most essential ingredient to making sex perfect. But, this is satisfying a deep spiritual need as well as financial one. And, I seem to be very good at it. So where will this go? I don't know yet. I do know that this has opened a door into my psyche that wont close anytime soon.

Poetry alert!!

I was sent forth from the power,
and I have come to those who reflect upon me,
and I have been found among those who seek after me,
Look upon me, you who reflect upon me,
and you hearers, hear me.
You who are waiting for me, take me to yourselves
And do not banish me from your sight…

For I am the first and the last
I am the honored one and the scorned one,
I am the whore and the holy one…

I am the silence that is incomprehensible
and the idea whose remembrance is frequent.
I am the voice whose sound is manifold
and the word whose appearance is multiple.
I am the utterance of my name…

Excerpts from "The Thunder, Perfect Mind",
THE NAG HAMMADI LIBRARY

Ranting...Terri Schiavo

In 2001, I was sitting in a doctors office in Key West Florida with my husband as he went through chemotherapy. We were surrounded by other cancer patients, since Key West has only one Hemo-Oncologist (to Dr. Stephen and Mary Catherine Krathan, all my love and thanks). On the TV comes a story about Terri Schiavo's case. That opened up a huge discussion in that Chemo suite about life, death, and the quality and dignity of both. Later, at the Hospice of the Keys (http://www.hospicevna.com/) this was also the conversation at the cancer support group. The main theme was how does one die as well as one lives? And who makes that choice. All in that room were luckier than Terri Schiavo: death was not a stranger and it was always outside our door. If one of the patients in that room died, it would have been welcome and embraced, but would not have been a surprise. All were, in some way, prepared. Several friends died that year, and my husband the following year. I faced the unimaginable duty of signing the papers to have my husband taken off life support because there was no hope left. His children, brother and sister supported my choice and there was a united front looking at him when he died. But in the end, only I was the sole bearer of the responsibility of carrying out John's wishes.

It is in that way I am infuriated and sickened by the whole Terri Schiavo case. Michael Schiavo has looked at the shell of what was his wife for 15 years. He grieved her. He knew her wishes. There are some things you do not share with your parents, and who would have shared death issues with a parent at her age at that time? The Christian right is arguing about the sanctity of life, but what about the sanctity of marriage? When someone becomes incapacitated, the responsibility doesn't just fall back to the family, its the spouse who ultimately bears the burden alone. I was lucky in that my husband was a articulate man with strong opinions who was educated on life and death issues and let his wished be know to all involved. Terri Schaivo was young and to all appearances healthy, and what happened to her was a tragedy. Her parents have let that tragedy linger for 15 years. They aren't trying to save her life, they are prolonging a death that should have happened years ago. They are trying to make themselves feel less guilty by trying to convince others Terri is there and can be helped. How can any parent want their child to live in that state? No dignity, no memory, no communication. They are flying in the face of the majority of the medical profession on her condition. I cannot presume to know the pain of losing a child. But I can imagine the pain Michael Schiavo has endured for years knowing he alone is responsible to carry out what she ultimately wanted to do. Yes he could have just divorced her and walked away years ago. I am more impressed that he has stayed for years trying to keep Terri's wishes upheld. People have criticized him for having a relationship with children while she was living. Her brain quit functioning 15 years ago. He held out hope for years, and nothing. He has gone through the fire of grief, and had come out on the other side. I pose these questions to you. Would you want your husband or wife to be alone the rest of their lives grieving you? My husband didn't even want me to grieve; he simply wanted me to put his memory away and live my life, and that would honor him enough. In closing this rant I will put to you a discussion I had with my step-sons a year or so later when this case once again reared its ugly head. And I will unequivocally state it here:

If my step-sons would have tried with me concerning their dad what Terri Schiavo's is doing to her, I would have caught their heads turned and smothered him with a pillow and gone to jail with a clear conscience, knowing he would have wanted to die rather than live without dignity.

Rockers Party..The myth-the legend-the reality.

Last night was the first Rockers party I had ever attended. Rockers is a huge swing club in the central Kentucky area. I went with Mr. Cool and his shack up. The Continental Inn was sold out with the Rockers, Sweet 16 basketball tourney, and other parties. The Continental Inn is the place in town where if it happens there, it stays there sort of place. I was wearing the same little short Kleenex thin black dress I always wear, and was instructed to look for business if it stumbled upon me. We got there and the place was full of about 250-300 semi dressed people of all shapes sizes and colors. The bar was expensive and people were groping anything that moved. I walked around to find members of our personal club to tell them Mr. Cool was there, seeing that he doesn't get out much. Kept bumping into the same guy, and I hadn't met him previously. He was hot though so I kept an eye out for him.

Its kinda fun to look at all the different people there. If you have a body issue, a swing party in general, and Rockers in particular, isn't the place to have them. There were women there that would make three of me, gloriously naked and enjoying. It was rather reassuring. So I made a few loops of the party, catching the UK score on my way around the conference room. LOL even an impending orgy can't stop diehard Cats fans: in Kentucky, basketball waits for no one. I kept stopping in checking on Mr. Cool to make sure he was ok. Soon I was talking to the cute guy who happened to end up where I was a lot. He was a fellow witch, and said he thought I was 23, which always puts you in my good graces. So finally he came out and said he wanted to play. It came down to the same thing that always happens at the parties. I'm supposed to work them and I end up playing for free, always to my benefit. So I told him to go ask Mr. Cool, then went to his room, for an hour of incredible sex. I had gotten a hold of another man who thought I was a goddess and gave me all he had.

This always seems to happen when I'm depressed too. I was having feelings of inadequacy be cause I don't think I have the looks for being an escort. Then, the Goddess provides a really cool guy to prop my ego up..Thank you Mother. After some cuddling he left ahead of me cause I had to go by our room to fix makeup. On the way back was stopped by a drunk basketball guy wanting to go to my room. LOL I told him how much and he wandered off. I got back and sat with the new guy and some friends we had in common, then decided to go back to my room this time, for another hour of mind blowingly hot sex. He left when Mr.Cool and the shack up wanted to go to bed (IE FUCK). I opened the door and there stood another basketball guy wanting some, he just happened to be walking by. I sent him on his way lol. The rest of the night was spent laying there as eye candy for Mr. Cool so he could stay hard to fuck the shack up. He did give me a new sex toy though. A girl can never have enough vibrators....

So this is my assessment of Rockers: I like our club better. Granted I would have never met this really cool guy at our small parties, but ours is a bit classier. We actually socialize for a few hours before going off in our groups to play. At Rockers, you can fuck in front of God and everyone in the middle of the main party. I found it amusing, but kind of tacky. I've also come to the conclusion that I will make no money at these things unless Mr. Cool or myself set them up before hand.

BDSM....again.

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Week of firsts part III..Or Whoredom revisited..

Remember a few weeks ago when I had a brush with prostitution with a 50$ blowjob? Well I decided that instead of brushing up against it I would do a full contact collision with it. Had a guy come over and had pretty decent sex for an hour. And for that much exertion, I got 140$ for my time. This is the kind of money engineers and lawyers make. I have never made that kind of money, and that is what I make in a day and a half of work at the day job.
I think this goes back to being a ugly teenager. I saw all these girls I went to high school with go on dates and get treated to nice things because they were beautiful. It took me years to realize I have my own beauty. I have a certain charm men seem to like. And this is a statement you can take to the bank: IF MEN ARE WILLING TO PAY FOR SOMETHING I ENJOY GIVING AWAY FOR FREE, BY THE GODDESS I'M GOING TO DO IT. And, Im not falling for some of this ethics bullshit Im getting from a few of my guy friends. Men will screw one way or the other. And if this keeps me from eating PB and J for a week after I pay my rent, so fucking be it.

Week of firsts part II

I was going to start this post like this:
"Ever had something weird happen to you on a bed in the middle of 4 or 5 people having sex?"
Since to most that is weird, I need a new approach. So, here it goes:
Ever been in the middle of a bed with 4 or 5 people having sex and look down and realize the person going down on you isn't the gender you thought they were? LOL Last Saturday night, there I was at another swing party. We were all on the bed in a puppy pile and my eyes are closed. Someone starts eating me out. I had been fooling around with a guy so I thought it was him. It starts getting really really good so I go to put my hair in their hair..and it wasn't who I thought it was. It was a female party goer. I had two choices: freak or just go with it. I chose the latter. And I came. This female knows I'm not bi, meaning I'm not eating pussy, sorry. But I am philosophical about the situation. A tongue is a tongue, and if they want to eat me, hell Ill let them. I'm not about to shave my head and buy a Subaru and become butch, but it was a interesting experience.

Week of firsts part I.

This past week has been rather bipolar with different things in my life swinging in all directions. I've been told at work they want me gone as much as I want to be gone. My latest painting is stalled. However, sexually things kinda rocked. Wednesday I got an IM from a guy I've been talking to for a few months. I had never met him so I said sure, come over. I was shocked at what stood at my door. He was adorable,19 years old with light blue ( he says green :P) eyes and dark brown hair. I knew he was a virgin from an earlier post. So he came in and started an evening of so much fun. He was so playful and unexpected. We talked about witchcraft and metaphysics and sex and the world. And we wrestled and ticked and kissed. I never had any experience with teenage boys even when I was a teenager because I was such a nerd. This was what I wished I had experienced when I was 18. And of course talking and wrestling turned to kissing and necking...and cherry popping. I think he learned a lot. I know I did.

hmm a walk on the wild side

"Fly by night, away from here
Change my life again
Fly by night goodbye my dear
My ship isn't coming and I just can't pretend"

--Rush--"Fly By Night"

I have decided I want to dye my hair blue. And I'm not speaking about baby blue I'm talking shocking electric blue. I want to go completely nuts with my hair. I've done it before, I shaved it shiny 2 years ago. Now my hair is long and red and I wish I could just go for it and dye it all blue. This isn't all about my hair. This has more to do with lifestyle. I wish I was in a place in my life where I could be so creative as to do something so dramatic and not have negative repercussions: for example, getting fired. I'm trapped. I'm going nowhere. Like my friend said...I'm a bobbing cork down a stream going in a general direction with know idea how to get there any faster. This is all tied into the current existential funk and I should just drink a soda and go to be and dream of a place and time I can have blue hair and wear Doc Maartens.

Last nights party

Well I survived another swing party. I was co-hostessing this one. Including me, there were 2 men and 5 women. So what did I do? Got stoned and drunk and kept the younger of the two all to myself, and used him to the point where noone else got any from him...Im such a thoughtful hostess.LOL

Self Loathing...How interesting....

At the end of this average ho hum work week, I'm in the strangest mood. I suppose I'm still feeling the after effects of the flu, with a lot more fatigue then I usually have. I didn't run tonight after the scary incident at the gym Wednesday, with heart palps. So I feel like a lazy slug. There's a swing party tomorrow night, and I'm only half heartedly looking forward to. It seems that I've been overtaken by a feeling of Blah Ick Yuck, or otherwise known as Existential Funk. Longtime readers will be familiar with this state of mind in me. It happens every so often, like a toothache or low grade fever. Nothing satisfies me in this state. When this frame of mind sets in my art sucks, my body image is terrible and I just have a general sense that I would sell my soul to be anywhere or anyone else than I am now. There's been a lot of life stuff creeping into my mind. BDSM is starting to look attractive to me now. I'm scared to death about art school, since I have turned in all the required paperwork-my fate is sealed. The ex BF that assaulted me also reared his ugly head this week.
He called me a few days ago, all friendly and wanting to talk, and probing into my business. He has always wanted to read this blog, but I have never given him the address because this is the one place he cannot force himself. So besides the drama he inflicts, he has no idea about what my life truly is anymore: Mr. Cool, swinging, art. Especially the swinging. He has always had this attitude that I should be faithful to him no matter what state of together or untogetherness we are. So he called, and asked me what I had been up to. This turned into a case of be careful what you ask for....cause I told him everything. He got to hear all about Mr. Cool and what I did at the parties. He then started in on the why-are-you-doing-this-to-ME-I-still-love-you bullshit. He wanted to see me this weekend, I told him only if I didn't have a party to go to, which I do. So he's all well its cool. Then I get an email the next day:

"last night when we were on the phone you said
something that made me stop and think, and when I went
to bed it made me realize something......we were
talking about getting together one night and just
hanging out and watching tv and shit and you said
something along the lines like "i'll have to see if
there's a party scheduled...." and it made me realize
that you don't seem to have time for the people who
care about you....it's a shame when I almost have to
make an appointment.....and you also said something
last time I saw you that you hadn't had sex w/anyone
since psycho boy {Mr.Cool}in january, but yet last night you
admitted that everytime you went to one of those
parties you got laid, and I know that you've been to
several since january and before I came over there last........so it
made me realize that you have become exactly what we used to joke about
Julie {a mutual friend} being, someone who sleeps w/whom ever comes along, and even
though I told you that I don't agree w/what you're doing, you seemed to have
brushed it off......you may call these people "friends" now, but last
night I don't think that any of them offered to give you a heater of
anything to keep you warm, and that one day you may meet the wrong
person and it won't be pretty......I guess that what i'm trying to say
is that if this is how you want to live, then I don't want any part of
it, and I know you're going to say that it's your life, then i'll leave
you to live your life the way you want to and that i'll kindly step out
of it because I don't want to be filler for the empty portions that you
feel in your life"

If I had know this is what it took to get him out of my life, I would have told him all this 6 months ago! I thought this was typical for him: he sexually assaults me and I'm the bad guy. He will call me again in 6 months, just watch. He has no clue that when he sodomized me that any love I had left for him died at the moment of penetration. But I think this is the stem of the existential funk. I actually feel deep in my marrow he's out of my life and I'm free again emotionally. Its a scary wonderful creepy feeling. I'm a big believer in self responsibility, and now I have more responsibility for myself than ever. This is probably why I started looking at the BDSM sites again. I feel the need to let some of this off my shoulders by being a sub again. Witches believe that life is all about circles, large and small ,and the wheel of my life like the wheel of time and space, has twirled again.

Poetry Alert!

This was given to me today in an email:

whatever happens
to the world around
show me your purpose
show me your source

even if the world
is Godless and in chaos
show me your anchor
show me your love

if there is hunger
if there is famine
show me your harvest
show me your resource

if life is bitter
everywhere snakes everywhere poison
show me your garden
show me your meadow

if the sun and the moon fall
if darkness rules the world
show me your light
show me your flame

if I have no mouth
or tongue to utter
words of your secrets
show me your fountain

I'll keep silence
how can I express
your life when mine
still is untold

-- Rumi, translated by Nader Khalili