We are who we are

I kept picturing you busy in the kitchen, sipping your wine as you made your magic for the rest of us -- A, L, M, Z and I -- playing Monopoly on the floor while music fills the house.
I can't wait for you to see the house! Tile greets you at the foyer, followed by an almost mahogany-colored bamboo flooring throughout the living room, dining room and kitchen -- and oh, my kitchen! Twice the size of what I endured at the apartment!  With ample counter and cabinet space so I can actually COOK! Where cabinets overflow, I have a wonderful pantry where the utility room is (all tiled), front-loading washer and dryer, a HUGE water heater that fills only during off-peak hours... the utility room is entered from the garage with a pocket door to separate it from the rest of the house.
The girls are on the west side of the house with their own bathroom (and they are clear -- "Girls only!") while us boys reside on the east side (and our own bathroom). All the rooms are carpeted with an olive green pile -- the vibe is very warm and homey.
My parents made a very traditional (for us) Thanksgiving dinner -- Turkey (of course), gravy made with the roux (and canned mushrooms), mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn nibblets, rolls, cranberry sauce, candied yams (with melted marshmallows), pitted black olives, pumpkin and pecan pies.
I kept wondering, as the day went on, how wonderful your spread would be. As wonderful as my parent's spread was (God bless em'), it was extremely pedestrian (Filling, nonetheless).
A pot of my dad's turkey soup sits out in the garage, the bones of our fowl having simmered for several hours, awaiting celery and carrots and whatever. Several pounds of turkey are wrapped in the freezer awaiting inclusion into sandwiches, casseroles and whatnot.
Again, I wonder about your magic with food -- and with me...
The children having gone to bed (the boys, I'm certain, passed out; the girls still giggling together but steering clear of our bedroom), candles lit, you and I enjoy a final glass of wine as the dishwasher rumbles and a load of laundry tumbles in the dryer, talking as we always do -- as if it's the only conversation that matters in the universe. Finally, placing our empty glasses on the counter, we retire to our bed, to intertwine, to receive and reciprocate each other's ecstasy and breathe in each other's essence, sustaining each other as we fall asleep in each other's arms, as always, visiting each other's dreams.
I await you on Black Friday :D

Are you ready yet...?

Do you like this... ?

Land of the free, home of the brave... right?

M.I.A, Born Free from ROMAIN-GAVRAS on Vimeo.

Rill, rill, oh so fucking rill

Bay -- bee...

MMMMMMmmmmm...oh my!!!!

oh, the violence..

Pt. 2, 4

Part IV, part one

.... because you never know what you'll find

Can't say that I'm bummed but frustrated, grrrrrr on my bad teeth.... well, there you go....

I should have blogged this..

Welcome to the club, baby...

Life calls

After weeks (what seemed like months) of drought, a few drops of rain fell over me.

Just you wait, folks, she'll be here, too.

I hadn't expected her, obviously; my anger here has been less about how my life is going -- I am nothing but a Knight -- but afraid she'd read past posts, the jokes and the longing, the mistranslated posts of me that made me for the fool I am.
Dropped me into her past like a stray cue ball.
A scratch. Do it over, again. It's just a game.
Then... there she was, breathing my morning into me. No matter how cold it was, no matter how little sleep I'd had, when her voice entered my ear, the Earth opened up and flowers bloomed in the midst of November frost. I stood reeling, not about to hit the canvas but nonetheless discombobulated, spun, a few teeth left and still standing, wondering,

(because I'm all about gratuitous video)
Why?
Why explain that you'll never leave him but, if you could, you'd plant your bags in my space and make me the happiest man in the world and that, maybe, we might do that in a decade or so and, um, are you fucking anyone?
She stood there,
No matter what disaster occurred 
She stood in desperate music wound, 
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph 
Where the bales and the baskets lay 
No common intelligible sound 
But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea.


That's what I'm sayin'...
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I saw Joe at the liquor store, buying beer for his big party. Honestly, I couldn't remember his name but I remembered what he represented: another bit of fluff in an attempt to be relevant.

My friend just won his seat as a county commissioner: I wish I could post the column I wrote taking him to task, asking him if he's just reflecting the new lame, to lay on the wall like the last, the langorous shadow of some slave from Pompeii.

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I swear, I think, I hope, I beg.... just not me, MoFo... we're all not feeding at what's left of the corporate trough, sucking in the bacteria, begging for death, eating catfood... some of us are looking at the tops of trees and wondering tall a tree can grow.

something like that.

Ha ha ha ha ha...

Ripped from reality, huh-huh, huh-huh, oh boy, oh boy ya, why are we even involved?