Ahhh, orgasmic is all I can say. And I believe I did. I was the first to comment when she posted the song on her blog..WeeHooo. If you have a moment alone, sit back and listen to this masterpiece. "therapeutic" is what it is...Take a time out, you deserve it
The meaning of Ho: the center of the donut, a male prostitute as referred to by thugs, the whole of something as referred to by thugs. The marry sound made by a Christmas saint. When rowing large boats European sailors often use the ho after the heave, heave =pull and Ho=push.
When I think of Ho I think of wild originality. I think of a hippie dude so in love with the spirit he has lost all sense of morality as we know it. What is morality anyway?
If it’s that dark cloud that looms over the human race thundering with high expectations, dictatorially manipulating so many to psychologically beating themselves senseless while stretching impossibly thin trying to reach for a sense of sanctity, then surely Ho is morality’s arrow to the heart.
He comes from another world, a world I am ever so often refreshed to be part of.
We have built many fond memories Ho and I.
I wonder if he knows that I’v always longed to stay his little girl; my hair whipping wildly in the wind while he picks up speed to see just how brave his offspring will prove to be. I would hardly ever surrender, and the cool thing about Ho is he knew I could take it.
I got to travel with him again a few years back. We were road warriors again, only much had grown between us. My mind always festering, sick with thought; my life, my future, my relationship. I wanted us to be close again but I was not a little girl anymore. I was thrust into adulthood at 17, the responsibility and deadlines that came with it along with the ever pressing fear of failure.
He saw me thumbing a rather hammered looking one, I was sure it wouldn’t work but Ho insist I put it on.
I was a little bothered as we had past that pleasant beginning of the trip and and were now more in the agitating “are we there yet” stage. I didn’t want to hear mumbled sounds eking out of this ancient tap deck but I wanted him to believe I was there with him.
Do you remember how we used to always go on these trips together from Mexico to Texas”? I tried to recal lost memories.
A half tuned guitar began to play, I was sure it was another one of Aaron’s tapes but then it could be Ho himself…Ho and? A three year old girl. Me, little Ol fireball herself. Who would have guessed this child would grow up to fixate her life around music and as usual it would never go much further then a sloppy distorted demo, and Ho would always remain my biggest fan.
He smiled, I could tell he was remembering what I couldn’t. Could it be that even though I’ve forgotten most of my childhood I some how managed to imprint Ivan Ho’s love for art, sound and life some where deep in my subconscious? I’ve nevr been able to shake the desire to create yet neither of my parents were artistic in anyway. My mother gave me my heart and soul, my Godfather gave me strength, drive and I’m sure a great deal of my humor is credited to him.
All the way till my 7th year seems to be just a big blur. My mom never really spoke to me about my biological father, but I do remember her sharing with me a time when Ivan would sell his paintings at the beach to support us. Imagine that. He was quite good” she said.
Ho is the missing link to so much of my life. When I’m with him I feel a part of me being fulfilled. I do remember he and I were very close, we were always partners in crime.
I began to relax. Some how I knew this trip was going to be better for me then I thought.
It was a six day adventure, Ho is probably the only adult I know who will be totally down with inviting a soul searching, rainbow kid to come and join us for the next couple of days. I wanted to take him home like a lost puppy. I think the guy was more scared of us then we were of him. To Ivan Ho every one is a potential disciple. There is no end to the possibilities.
No I’m not faking anything, I feel at peace in both worlds. I’v been blessed with a very colorful family and heritage. But if some one was to ever ask me which lifestyle I would chose if I must be content with only one, I think I would take a month to think about it. (months later)
They say many woman settle with men who have similar characteristics to their Father’s. The choice of marriage has much to do with the choice of lifestyle, this my conclusion would rest thoroughly on my choice of male, though this becomes confusing as I’ve had two fathers, two very opposing personalities as well.
There is only one thing I think these two held in common. They were both traveling men, one; the prowling hunter, restless and hungry for adventure in all its forms, the other; a wild naked Indian who seeks freedom of systematic bondage and “morality”as we believe it to be.
Even my mother is a free spirit, Esmeralda is her personal spirit helper. My mother reflects her ability to see into the heart with the eyes of love, she is adamant and backward to the established method.
About all I can establish is my soul mate is the great spirit Himself who moves and shifts endlessly. Who’s ways are not our ways and who defies the confines of our limited and poor understanding of love in unconventional ways, like giving us more then one father forever enabling us to seek more then just one objective, more then a simple solution, more then a simple life.
This is why I chose the Family, because its in my biological make-up.
Ho and I have found each other on and off again. He was a pillar in getting me through one of the roughest times of my life. He didn’t feel sorry for me, he didn’t try and stop me from making mistakes. He’ll let me stick my head way, far out the window. Only he knows I’ll pull it back in once all the tears have been swept clean from my face. Then he and I will wake up at the crack of dawn, I'll put on one of his old wet suit about 3 sizes too big, have hot coffee and donuts, then we’ll take down our surf boards; he’ll teach me a technique to carry them as they seem impossible to carry. Then, once hes given me a brief coarse on stopping the board before smashing into the rocks we’ll dive out into the deep where he gives me my first surfing lesion. All he’ll say is “watch me”.
I love you Ivan Ho. Thank you for your many contributions to my life.
The 22 of May is your birthday, another day for you to defy the laws of physics by some how becoming younger and more defiant then ever!
This car will be my prison/play ground for the next 45 minuets. Unlike the driver I embrace traffic. These times are few and never wasted.
“You don’t have a clue what’s going on do you”? That was the voice of the infantile drummer to my left.
From what I hear he is better then most drummers twice his age. Was I offended by his bluntness? Not at all, it was spoken like a true musician.
Its an age ol argument and I’ve lived with enough musicians to know there is no winning.
It was a good song unlike the other 13 on the CD. It spoke to me.
All I needed to know is what the man was saying, what he was feeling, the rest I’ll leave up to the two guys sitting on my left. They haven’t stopped discussing mathematical terms for a triplet. They will inspect every inch of the composition until its nothing more then a few sheets of paper, thin and lifeless like the carcass of animal trophy.
But what about the song that had me on the verge of spiritual climax?
Could it be this was just another manifestation of the famous “glamour our glory?
I know what your thinking. It’s true, I am a clumsy musician, not even worthy of the title.
If anyone has labeled me as a musician chances are they’re not one them self.
Perhaps there should be another word for people like us. A music lover.
Ah yes, the music lovers, that shanty little group of people who belittle perfection.
It’s true, in fact I’m more likely to fall in love with a song just because it has heart felt lyrics then I am likely to fall in love with a flawless progressive rock symphony! Why would some one as simple as me bother with music they don’t understand, can’t sing to, can’t dance to; it’s empty sounding brass.
Now please don’t quote this back to me along with the insinuation that I don’t believe in professionalism. I do, it’s profound and highly commendable. What I don’t believe in is ripping a song to pieces because of its quality or because it’s a simple “3 corder”. I don’t believe in verbally bashing some one’s music when its clear they did it in their bedroom with some bogus recording program; overlooking a great song completely based on its quality. "heh"
I think there is a line to be drawn some where and I believe family composers have a pretty good balance and understanding of where that line is. And maybe what I lot of us don’t see, is that when we step over this line “spiritual inspiration vs mathematical perfection”, our audience will practically turn tail and run! Unless they are a musician, ah yes, that hand full of people will oooh and ahhh”, then they’ll take it home and either rip it apart, or they’ll try and come up with something better.
We straightforward listeners look for simplicity, inspiration. We look for a voice that speaks our thoughts.
So how do we begin concluding that some one is more then a musical perfectionist” and divinely anointed and capable of lifting our spirits to the Lord? Well it’s kind of hard to find a single example of some one who is professional yet completely anointed because there are so many! I’m a bit overwhelmed by the idea of picking just one fruit from our cornucopia of brilliant, musical saints.
I guess to make this faie I’ll just go ahead and state that it’s a personal friend of mine, we all win this way as you can conclude that I need to get out more and we can skip the beheading while I make more friends as musician’s all over the family decide they need to get to know me better. Huray!
There is no need for a drum roll, you probably already guessed my choice prospect, Niki Rudow. Ah yes, pretty soon this blog will turn into a club for Niki-lovers.
But think about it, Niki is a trained professional, but there is no doubt she is anointed, many of her songs speak to us on a personal level. She sheds sweet little tears almost each time she goes up to sing.
She probably doesn’t feel worthy or capable. The Lord uses these kinds of insecurity to his advantage.
Franchesco has some crazy gift as well. His songs leave me dazed; I tripped out watching him perform live at word stock.
Another sample and one of my all time favorite music guys is Jaz. Not many people know he is the mastermind behind some of Godfrey’s best songs. I guess he recognized that he did not yet have the “professionalism” needed to produce these songs so he turned them over to the greater mastermind. That in itself is a real sign of humility, it says “take the songs, we need them, the Lord gave them to me, I am just the messenger”.
This kind of selflessness is what earned the family a few more classics such as; some of my personal favorites “life of a missionary” “I’ll die when you die” and many more.
Music is a feeling in your heart that swells and grows and if your in touch with the spirit enough, will some times surface so that others can enjoy and be moved.
To me there are few things more physically or spiritually gratifying as when I am lying on my back feeling the warm sound of my acoustic guitar against my belly. Its simple, my guitar never tires harder then I do. I will never catch her trying to impress any one; she is honest and forthright. My relationship to my guitar has been one of the truest in my life.
On her back is carved some of my favorite music lovers; names like Elizabeth De Gallon, Jaz, Steven B, Chris G, even my brother Jaydee. As hard as I plead Sam drummer didn’t make it, I guess the powers knew he is a math man. I still feel the sing. As close a friend as he may be he always has failed me musically. “You didn’t even show up for my set at word stock man”!
I meant to get more names carved into my Michelle but it dawned on me that I didn’t know any one there. It would be a façade to tattoo just any of your boy friend’s names on your back”, I felt the same way about my guitar’s back.
Genuine is really what we should go for.
The song is old? So is the best wine. The song is flawed? What is a flaw but the white spot on the puppy’s ear that gave him his endearment? The singer’s awful? I’m listening to his words.
How many people were won to the Family through some average Jo musician? Both my parents were.
Let’s not discourage our music lovers people! Without them music has no pulse. Without them who will do more then scrutinize the mu? Who will be there just for the sake of coming inches away from your beating heart, who will genuinely love your sound oblivious to how it works? Who will there be to thrash themselves about and head bang riotously, or should I say righteously. NICE!
Wow, I just had a major revelation. You know how it says in the bible “calf and the lion together”? How about “the musician and the music lover together”?
Show some love
So here I lie trying to make something of myself. I keep trying to convince my body I’ve recovered only to find my shanty health relapsing.
I should have told every one I’ve been sick so you could all pray for me. My home is starting to think I’m an invalid.
I tried to prepare a massive Brazilian style lunch to day and it’s left me yet again alone and with fever in my bed.
I find the best thing to do when you have a fever is to watch TV; its perpetual movement will assure you that everything outside the box isn’t moving.
However I hate being a couch potato, even though I am forced to remain motionless something about deteriorating in front of a TV is so degrading.
I hope this explains my extreme posting. I simply am trying to keep sane, besides, today I have a great story. I have already asked my dear friend if I could post about this (as it’s very private) and she being the sport she is… agreed.
I’ve taken up sexually educating a small group of girls (all of which are 18 and over). I guess the girl’s saw my sickness as a perfect chance to get me to talk. Don’t worry JD this post has little to do with me.
Anyway, I agreed to give a class on oral sex, mainly giving oral. We went through all kinds of commonly used references and I tried to do my best to give visual examples, but there is just nothing like “hands on” experience and being that recently the home’s boy toy has relocated we felt little other choice then to down load some wholesome porn. Yes you really have to pray when going through these sights and I’m not recommending it to anyone. We did it with prayer and stateliness.
Anyhow, as you can imagine we spoke long and hard on the subject and talked of various sexually related things and experiences.
So then every one went to bed and what transpired next was concoct in the sweet sleep of she who sleeps just overhead.
When you read it I’m sure the majority of you will recall a similar dream. What makes this such a classic story is that it’s one we can all fondly relate to.
: Written in the words of the obvious anonymous after a short hand yet explosive affirmation.
There was something going on in the house, a social gathering or celebration. Every one was enjoying themselves and it was about that time when most people who are young and hormonally charged begin the safari that leads to nature’s most phenomenal indulgence, human contact!
But where were the throngs she would normally seek to maul? And why did it feel the urge powerful enough to be divided among 10 men to copulate had fallen on her tinny shoulders?
Searching hard for the usual victim she found him collapsed on the sofa watching soccer. All the while a skinny brown juvenile boy (the nerd in the comedy we watched beforehand) kept pestering her for a date. She tried to rouse the soccer sedated aficionado but it was impossible. Brazilian soccer has always been the kryptonite of bathroom quickies! Turning to the scrawny juvenile she thought of the law of love and how every one should be admitted into the “red light special”. Annoyed but desperate for human contact she agreed and went shamefacedly with him to the bathroom where he unleashed “menino” and hastily put on the condom. Yes she was starved, she was deprived, but something stopped her from going on. Perhaps he was more of a meager size then she was accustomed.
Discouraged, he insist that she keep the condom for a better man. She didn’t accept. Every one knows you can’t use a condom TWICE!
The urge had not at all subsided, it seemed to swell as the moments went by. Then she remembered there was a tension releasing device in one of the girl dorms.
She snatched it up from its sleeping place and made her way back to the bathroom.
The window was four times its original size. This you can blame on the dream giver. She struggled with the thought of some one catching her in the act.
She tried to adjust the curtains but they were practically transparent. There was no stopping her, soon her friend would notice the beloved contraption was missing, she needed to make good use of her sparse time.
But just before she could begin there came a mother with a tribe of children. “great”. All the kids flocked to the window followed by their attendant. She was one of those sweet family aunties who carry their voice when saying simple things like, “Helllloooo….what are you dooiinnggg inn therrrre?” How very predictable. She gathered her things and sheepishly retreated.
On the search for a quiet place went until she found it. An empty room with a king sized bed and silk billowy bedding that seemed to say, “we have been expecting you”. Finally, frustrated and bedraggled she fell upon the inviting arrangement. Things had only begun to look up when by some cruel means of human deprivation in entered a horde of men. Now this would sound promising only the one who plopped down next to her was none other then her beloved brother who seemed to need some talk time. She crossed her legs and tried to hide the love device beneath her pillow.
No she never found relief that night, she awoke irritated and later confessed the story to me. I laughed and took notes. Indeed this sounds all too familiar!
Seems like every day but today is humming with romantic activity.
There is always talk of romance, but when it really comes down to it every one is afraid to speak up.
Dia Dos Namorados should be known as “Dia Dos Calados” or the days of mutes; fearful and verbally handicapped aristocrats who fancy love but do nothing about it. Fools!
I know what’s going on, I suppose they thought I was going to pop out of my cancer’s shell and search them out.
Not so my dear fellows. I may be a first world girl but I am still very old fashioned. The man is supposed to show up with this guitar and play a quixotic concerto out yonder window mumbling his stanch heart piece through a mouth-full of flowers…red ones.
Hum, I’m starting to realize this post really isn’t fair at all. Seeing as I remain ambivalent and unresponsive to all sutures I see it would only be a waist of song and flowers…red ones, not to mention man. And there should never be a waist of song.
Actually, if some one really did go through all that I would probably respond reasonably. What? You thought I was completely heartless? Not even a little.
Just seems I’ve done enough in the favor of love. Human love that is, Devine Love is something completely deferent.
For divine love there is nothing I would dub unreasonable or irrational. In-fact, irrational is really what we are going for here.
No more will I venture into some “sensible” courtship just because my pears think I “need” it.! Let cruel 19th century fathers arrange weddings. I am not that antiquated! Just old fashioned enough to require that a man prove his affinity by way of song and a mouth full of flowers…red ones
Feliz Dia Dos Namorados….. you are all loved by me. XOX
YaY, just got a box of chocolates!!!
There is hope sparkling on the horizon yet.
He asks me if I want to hear a song, he just put it together.
I’d love too. I straight away stop my typing and perk up.
The song he plays is nothing but a clever collection of 7th chords, minors so not to let you completely float away, and a single major chord.
It’s soothing, melon colic. NO words.
He goes on to talk about the new CD. It’s going to be intense. Apparently Phill will be nailed to a cross some where in the course of one music video. I love it…sheer genius.
Pedro usually doesn’t mingle with goyem. Something’s up.
The other day he told me that this next week we would work on one of my songs. It was music to my ears. He also asked me if I liked incense… “maybe I should bring you back this set I saw in Ungra”.
Who told him I like incense?
Something is defiantly up! He has even shown interest in my splat blog.
Either Pedro has finally realized that a meager bottle of wine is petty thanks for all I did for him in the US.
Orrrrr….. he is trying to evade having his picture taken.
I’m ten steps ahead of you musical marvel.
To the guys that I can always count on, you see there are six of them and when one is out of commission there is always another to fill in. You guys rock my world! I beam when ever I think of you. My lap top is full of your pictures.
For sure the Lord smiled on me the day he decided I would be in a family that consisted mostly of guys!
So on we go!
My brothers are incredibly intelligent, although it can take an oil pump to bring it to surface.
The youngest of the six are the four cardinal signs so each one is the master of his element. They are artists, musicians, philosophers, comedians, and best of all they have their hearts set on being family disciples (save one of which loves the family still)
They never seas to amaze me. A girl couldn’t ask for more. I hope anyone who might see me making a fool of myself will forgive me when it’s done in the presence of my brothers.
We often make quite a seen. There is little I won’t do for them, anything from using my bra to smuggling Jr bacon cheese burgers into the theater (caught on film), allowing a couple of them (no matter how over grown) to sleep in my bed because they are scared of roaches, to staying up past 3 am making pizza for them despite the fact I haven’t packed and have to catch a 6 am plane. We do have our quiet moments however.
Our eyes shifting, each waiting for the other to stir, a cough, silence. I anticipate every movement, who knows when one will try and drive his finger into my belly button. Through the years I’ve grown exceptionally fast reflexes. My dad used to always attack at the most unexpected times. I’ve earned some dignity over the years. Now days it’s rare for them to try anything funny but when they do it will only leave a scratch beside my sacred opening. Jesse will growl with frustration.
They are pretty big boys too, they can carry me like a back-pack!
Check it out!!
Slowly yet progressively each is passing into man hood, the most difficult time of a young mans life and without the help of dad.
Please take note of that when attempting to single them out as the most obnoxious youths in the room which they probably are.
My dad educated each one to be as witty and unpredictable as a Sagittarius man is, but died before he could tell them it was only a third of what they would need to get them through life. He always encouraged their “creativity” although I think the insanity comes more from our biological Father who is a way cool hippie/active surfer dude and an active activated soul retriever” I mean you would have to be crazy to live full time by faith like Abraham, often not knowing wither he is going. wAy cool, love you Dad #1...you Rock! Ps thanks for the brothers among many other things.
Thank God my mom is tolerant as she is beautiful. She has some sense of humor too.
Poor misunderstood souls. A classic example happened just the other day at word stock.
The two youngest were leaning over me while I pranced about the pool in my Brazilian swim ware. Vic and Jesse both leaning over me seemingly flirtatiously, grabbing at me and making remarks that I guess would only be amusing to us.
To us it’s nothing more then them cheering me, kind of an imprudent complement.
One of the word stock security crew guys saw the hubbub and rushed over seizing the opportunity to rescue me from these delinquents. Alright, alright break it up”, get out of here”! He turned to me to give some advice. “don’t lead them on Marie”. I wasn’t sure he was serious, I thought every one knew who my family was at word stock.
We three just kind of looked at each other. We thought of all the many kisses, titty twists, and inappropriate “horse play” we had given each other over the last few days. I suddenly realized how bad it must look to anyone who didn’t recognize it as our family’s favored pastime, without acknowledging it I could easily be conceived as a pervert, “what, I a perv?? We didn’t know wither to laugh or correct the obvious mistake. We laughed. I left my brothers there to finish their gag but then remembered I forgot to tell the poor fellow they were my brothers. I turned just in time to see them jeering and saying things like “sorry man, I guess she just likes younger guys”, we can’t all be winners bro”.
I should have known this was far too good an opportunity to make fun of the security guard who had no doubt been hassling them all word stock. I quickly shouted to the guy “they are my little brothers”! A look of relief coupled with embarrassment swept across his face. My brothers where only sad I had killed their joy. Had I not said anything there would have been no peace for the poor befuddled word stock security guy.
Thank God JD is usualy there to jostle them back into the pecking order….. Notice Marty and Jesse scheming in back ground"
...though I believe Jesse is about JD’s size now…maybe bigger?
All this to say “cheers to the Sons of Judah” Huurraaahhh!
I open my lap top ready to hear from him. It’s been so long, our relationship isn’t the same. It seems when I am emotionally and physically complete I have less need of him. How sad I should wait till I’m standing at the edge of a pit waiting to be cast in that I should call for him.
Not this time, we’ve grown too close for me to start taking steps backward.
I have lost a lot of sleep, too much. I know it’s him trying to get through.
“I’m here love, I have nothing to say but that I love you, I just want to hear what you have been trying to show me”.
I wait…thoughts come into my head. I only have 30 minuets. Quick Lord, I need to hear from you”!
A saw is sounding off in the distance, I think of dear Chris and how hard he is working despite his battles.
Focus! There is just too much going on outside. I need quiet! Then it comes to me. My head phones, music!
Nothing with words or I’ll start singing. Thank God for Philly D.
The music starts. Already I’m there. I feel him. I search for his face like I always do. I don’t ever see it. Just images of paintings I’ve seen here and there but it is all I need. I know him, his aroma, his arms that have met me so many times before. He is the feeling I cling to when my insomnia wakes me at night.
Suddenly a mosquito bites my leg. “Bastard”.
I need an intercessory prayer, I can’t reach you.
I close my eye’s again. Every foul thing is fighting my connection. Then I feel him, my angel. I’ve never really known what position he holds only that he is the one I always dream of and see. He gives me faith. Nothing will come between me and my lover with him by my side. My spirit surges forward.
The Lord comes and takes me. Suddenly nothing matters and I have to stop typing..
We didn’t speak much like I thought we would. I guess there was nothing to say other then what he related to me through his embraces. He missed me.
My eyes watered and I felt so dirty, so childish. I tighten his arms around me. I’ll try harder” I said. He whispered in my ear, no, I know it’s hard. We feel so far away to you”. I just want you to know I’m here”.
He is painfully understanding but I still don’t accept it. No Lord really”, I’m worthless. I don’t even know why you want me like this”. I feel suddenly pathetic.
He says nothing more, he knows what it’s like to feel the wait of human indignity. He just holds me close and I know there is nothing I could ever do to stop his loving me.
It’s all so fast but the few moments we have are elating. He knows I have things to do so he lets me slip back inside myself.
The fight to get to him is well worth it. Music is the boat that carries me to him, my angel is my guide, he steers it away from the dark creatures surrounding the waters. Another successful attempt. Thank you all.
First, take the birthday girl for a day out on the town. This way you can focus your morning on the one leaving (Zacki the pirate).
O mulherengo com as mulheres.
The birthday girl hates surprise parties so these people are just coming over for their free-day as they normally do.
Once the birthday girl is out the handful will gradually morph into a throng. Every one brings Tequila and we drink with Zack the Pirate as it’s his favorite pastime. By the time the birthday girl gets back, there is meat, Pizza, mixed drinks and a very cheerful crowed waiting to ambush her as soon as she takes a foot in the door.
The following are some of our favorite Zack moments.
When he leaves the next day there is great weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Fair thee well Zack, happy birthday Rach!!
You Shall be missed!
The word itself makes me tingle, seduction can be one of many things; a soft touch in the right place at the right time, a smile given from across the room. Eye’s that say “let’s sneak out of here before I’m forced to make a fool of myself by sexing you right here on the dance floor”.
Scoring comes naturally for some, others need a little more help such as mutual flirtation or a sign from the second party that things look promising. Some people wait for their muse to do all the work
However I believe a truly seductive person is some one who is not only positive about him/her self but also help to make the second party feel seductive, desired, I’ve herd girls say “like I was the only one in the room”.
I think corny people are sexy because they just don’t’ know it, they aren’t yet polluted by the “how do I look” complex or have at least grown out of it so they have the elated ability to cut lose and make themselves look a fool. Not saying they don’t think about how they look, but ultimately they are less likely to avoid doing something simply because it will make them look stupid, this is why they are so much more fun. My sister Steph has this aptitude. She is a nerd without a doubt (I say that with great care Steffy). To our family she had the worst sense of humor, if humor indeed is all about timing, her timing sucked. But relentlessly Stephanie was able to bag these great guys. Japanese, Mexican, Caucasians, Homies from the hood. None were safe from her bad humor.
Now you say, “That’s great, you seem to have it down.” But why is it then you are alone and miserable”?
Good question! Firstly, I am not alone, or miserable. I am passionately involved with Jesus and loving him intimately is working quite well for me !
Anyhow I have always been more of an observer. Picture that sickly looking person wearing the white coat besides doctor Frankenstein who is holding all the frightening apparatuses. Do you think they ever come up with great ways to reanimate the human corps? NO! They just want to be there when it all goes down, so they’ll earn a degree and work long and hard at KNOWING things so they can get the job. I seem to have all the required specification for some one romanticaly advisable. I find myself being the advocate to all my girl and guy friends emotional needs while some how my romantic life, relationships ext, seem to be cascading down behind me. Never mind that, I’m here for you" I'll say while brushing bitts of wreckage of my shoulders.
My life has only recently cleared of debris TYJ. That’s why I am starting a new blog; a fresh start. It’s not that heart brake ever stops hurting BTW. For those of you who are looking to me for a victorious testimony. As I told a close friend, it never stops hurting, but with time you slowly forget about it; it stops digging an endless trench in your mind and one day you say “hey, I’ve not thought about that person in days”! Weeks and months will begin to fill your life with new memories and such.
So, after a long tedious attempt to rediscover myself I some how closed off the sensual side of me. I wasn’t completely closed off, I socialized, made friends and some short term romances here and there, but I some how forgot how it felt to be seduced, to so lovingly cater to my hair with cute pins and the side of me who used to fill my drawers with feverishly sexy underwear, to adorn my face with girlish make up, to thoroughly enjoy sex, to bite down on my lip just thinking about fornicating with a yummy some one. In fact, I haven’t had sex in a long time and to be honest I was content to just be the Lord’s bride.
However as fate would have it, during my trip to the US, I roomed with my dear friend Niki during word stock. By more then just fate but perhaps divine intervention, Niki “unfortunately” was rendered semi-unavailable for Word Stock. I watched as she turned down guy after guy. What a shame. In some cases I even had to be the bearer of bad news. But had it not been for the cat who was so unfortunately aloof, the mouse would have never had a chance to play. And play I did.
I came home feeling blessed, refreshed to be part of such a cool Family and people “my age” who without hesitancy push forward living by God’s law of love.
Something I had always been on the giving end of was now reaching out to receive me with strong trusty arms. It was a first. I even had one sweet friend offer me her beloved husband for company. You guy’s all made the Word Stock experience truly revolutionary and memorable, as if being able to play music, see my family and enjoy incredible bands ("STEM" raaaHHH!) and company wasn’t rousing enough.
Then came the long trip back and subsequent party to welcome me home. Which brings me back to seduction. Some people haven’t a clue”! Every one is deferent, for some it’s an ever so slight touch, for other’s it’s a brutal tackle to the floor. Please, do not tackle me to the floor. I am a soft touch girl. God’s greatest sexual advice to us is “do unto others as you would have them to you”. I live by that. If I’m not leaving bruises on you it’s because I don’t like being bruised! I may have the look of a wild thing, but as I said above, I am a mouse.
I think some people aren’t very good at reading body language so I’ll just print it out for those of you interested as the sex fiend in me has awaken from it’s sedated utter.
When you greet me walk over and kiss me on the check, just right beside my nose; Don’t try and get away with one of those cheap shot “oops, I was aiming for your cheek and some how BOOM, how romantic of me”!
When we dance, don’t grope me, (this does not include horse play)
Try and remember “mouse”. I am extremely sensitive, my skin pretty much is one big erogenous zone.
More Don’ts and Musts'
Don’t come up to me and declare that you are spending the night as if I’ll respond with “be there in a jiffy”! I am not your escort and am not being paid! I have an unwilling desire to always pursue abusive relationships/and men. If you are an egotistical, womanizing, liar, who plans on turing my heart into an omelet, please STAY away from me! I totally understand it’s not your fault and I’ve been making my way to you at every single dance night begging to be let in; you must fight it, I am self destructive and you MUST persist!
As for the sweet guys who I usually avoid, if I like you you may not be able to tell, I’m shy and have always been insecure! Sorry to make this tough on you but I am after all printing it out.
Hold my face in your hand, but don’t kiss me. I love mystery. If you are a risky kind of guy and you chose to kiss me, do it softly, a bit at a time. Taste my lips, don’t try and digest them, the full insides of your mouth should remain a secret, remember…mystery!
To those of you continuing on in this escapade please be advised, I almost never jump into bed with a guy, if I do this with you, then believe it or not it’s either a bad sign or depending on the factors involved was perhaps afraid it was my one chance..
Do not take sex from me, you may find yourself bitting off more then you can chew.
I can be very giving.
A part of me wanted to deny my faith. It would be so easy to say “what, no, no…this Old thing?? Not mine bro, just working on a project for a friend.
His eyes searched me as if to say, “come on, not you too, there must be some king of mistake?’ Pedro, better known as Gavin is one of those guys you'll make eggs for in the morningjust because it's so cute when he begs! I love him “in a completely plutonic way, and now there was a painful line being drawn between us, blogger…blog prosecutor.
‘Yes Pedro, I occasionally blog”. My head buckled.
Can’t believe it”?
I felt so crushed, for a moment I wanted to stop him from walking away but there was no use. Would I surrender my blogger’s right to post bits of humor, emotion and romance on a web page that can be read by all my friends who subscribe with such intensity? So many lives are changed every day by this, my “Splat” blog”.
I thought about it all night spiraling in my sheets.
The next morning I made eggs for breakfast, scrambled eggs; the kind only I can make.
There was fresh baked bread to go with it.
When I was done I made myself a lovely little plate to warm my heart and assure myself I still did one thing right,. If blogging ever failed me, I would always have my kitchen.
When I turned Alisa was fixated on my plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and fresh baked whole wheat bread. That looks so yummy”! “thanks” I replied trying to give her a clue that they were in-fact mine. “her gaze didn’t falter. I turned using my war-face but only to find a wall between me and my exit. It was Pedro. his eye’s didn’t meet mine. He was looking down. My plate! He just kind of gazed helplessly at the well mounted, warm bread and steaming eggs, his mouth opened slightly. He pointed, “I want those”.
I took a moment, now was my chance to reconcile. I began to surrender the plate.
My blog flashed through my head. The sweet text and glorified stories, I was doing to for them.
Then without warning my hand returned to me, Pedro looked at me staggered by the change of heart. I couldn’t do it. Something held me back. Our friendship was worth so much more then a breakfast platter yet something had changed.
I’ve spent so much time gagging over this musical marvel. He is musically everything I am not and could never be. But I have this, my blog, my plate of eggs. These things I do well.
Another day I will cater to you, today I am going to enjoy these eggs…and then blog about them latter!
All this to say, Pedro is a lot of fun to live with, he is a HS, a fulltime musician, and woderful home member all in all, he just happens to be the antichrist of blogging.
To answer your questions soon enough there will be a picture of Gavin himself sporting the word stock T that was lovingly catered for him. I’ve been working on a clever bribe. Getting picture from the guy is harder then trying to understand his music lango.
Though I m a double water sign I’v always been compelled by it. The most colorful aspects of my life were woven in by fire signs. Fire is passions mascot dancing around cheering for us to be more sensual.
When my friend Daniel asked me to take picture of him performing with his friends at a trance party in Vitoria, I jumped to the opportunity! It would after all be a great chance to light the bohemians’ with the Lord’s real fire!!
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
And best of all Zack the pirate(in and out of apparel), Jess the room-mate/pirate chick!
The “opening home party” was about to die out when there was suddenly a loud “Raaaa” and the 7 wicked-cool Pirates of Vargem Grande smashed their way through the gate!!
WE dance, we drank, we steal kisses and have kisses thrust upon us. Such is the life of a scallywag!!
Silently remembers what I chose to forget
That feeling of you, just you and nothing
My once blissfully youth
Now aged and wanting.
Some times I wake, my hands levitating
As if a hollow shell I’m will-lessly caressing
Confused, my heart knows it’s real
But I won’t cry
Just ignore my insides though they hurt to feel.
Still I can’t deny
I’ve known what it’s like
To give up my spirit and aspire to die
This invisible pain I don’t feel
When I sleep becomes real
And I dream with things I don’t know
Making love to a ghost
I wasn’t supposed
To sleep with an aching heart
I wasn’t supposed
To feel so alone when it’s dark
Once bold and open
Now closed and broken
How can I deny
Soft skin when it isn’t mine
When it haunts my feverish core
My head won’t let me remember
Can’t put a face on my murderer
Or pains that makes me beg for more
I wake wrestling
My sheets breach to swallow me whole
So many faces
But not every time I gave my soul
Making love in dark places
Where it’s hard to tell friend from foe
My final conclusion
I want no solution
My self made delusion will reprogram my mind
Memories of love will cease
Till the truth yields to it’s leash
Or completely is vanished with time
I bare my naked soul
Because you are my brother
This far I will go
But no farther
Don’t allow your heart to brake
Make no mistakes
Chose to discover
That truth can be found
In the pieces of a broken lover
That are scattered all around
But if your heart is convinced
Then loves not lost it’s innocents
and you are all the more provident
It’s his first year of life people. Hooray!!
Judah is a guy with many hidden talents, his father Sam and I were discussing at word stock what choice of instrument Judah was most fixated on.
Sam’s eyes tightened, “well, he seems to be torn between the Tuba, clarinet, acoustic piano, and yes drums. We don’t have the money to pay for classes for all of these, but some how Judah finds the means to experiment with house hold appliances making sounds that resemble all four..” Sam’s eyes looked a off into the distance, he paused. “Genius, pure genius”.
Splat is the name of my blog.
I read this funny little story on a family mag that was collecting excerpts from other books and philosophers on the subject of moving on and persisting through troublesome times.
Here is my composition (as I can’t quite remember the original anecdote word for word ) of this very clever tale and our official metaphor for the blog.
An ambitious man was given directions to where he could find the way to success, woman, musical excellence, money ….and whatever else ambitious men look for.
Once he reached that big X on the map he found nothing more than a malnourished, old, Arab man with a long twisted beard and large sags under his eyes. “There must be a mistake”? He thought. The malnourished Arab look at him, no; through him as he was also blind and said “state what you want”? Although he felt foolish the young man shrugged and said, “Well, I wanted to find success”. He turned to leave the scrawny Arab but then the Arab said, “ahh yes, it’s just beyond those rocks”.
The Young Ambitious guy set off as fast as he could. He was only gone a moment when suddenly there was a massive “SPLAT”. The End…
ha ha, how cruel of me. I should be flogged. Please continue”
So then he came back holding his bleeding head and was like, what the heck you Ol malnourished man”. But again, before he could leave he was urged on by the Arab. Again he made his way over the rocks and “SPLAT”. He would have stopped only the ol Arab was beaming with wisdom and seemed curtain of the location to success! Time and time again there came a splat, Splat, SPLAT!!
UGH”! said the young ambitious guy who could never win or make any progress ever! It’s there”. Said the Ol Arab. “where”? demanded the ambitious guy…..a little beyond SPLAT”!
That is the end of the tail and the beginning of a new life! May we all fight past the Giant boulders of failure, embarrassment and “SPLATs” of life, and on to the horizons of Victorious success!