| (no subject) |
[Mar. 26th, 2006|03:28 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | artistic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | help is just around the corner | ] |
It is a girl...
yes, sarah, is going to have a wee baby girl
a baby girl in my belly
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| fake is the new real |
[Mar. 23rd, 2006|02:07 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  breakfast - it might be okay | ] |
So we are all aware now that Andrew is no longer using this journal to write in.
I was getting paid bi-weekly to do this for him - but the salary pay was terrible, the abuse from others was becoming unbearable, and
well, frankly, he was getting so many good responses to his nice (yet slightly more feminine) journal entries that he became disheartened at the
lack of others negative responses that he was extremely used to....
So, Andrew has moved on to his new journal.
The location is under wraps.
Only a privilege few have back-stage-passes to his new life.
Sorry to those of you who aren't on the list.
He apologizes...but has to limit the number due to demand.
Plus, he must not let the 'would-be pregnant, no-longer newest leading lady find him...'
But I had some fooled I hear - thinking that it was andrew writing....
Meh! - It's not that I was trying to fool anyone (maybe just myself into believing that andrew
still loved me...)
I put up nice things...people responded nicely...it was nice....
was...
Apparaently I was a little too feminine though -
so it was questionable
(but I bet none of you have never seen andrew in a dress and lipstick have you?)
because i have
and he's damn fine
sexy and feminine!! :)
***You alone decide what is real***
s. |
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| hmmmmm..... |
[Mar. 22nd, 2006|07:50 am] |
i'm too tired tonight to..
to even get the keys from my coat pocket..
so that i can drive off to that other town,
in my big ole' pick-up truck to
that town that has no sign, or no name...
where i'll have no sign, or no name...
---still, i pause,
and i look around for my coat...
i look around for my coat....
my eyelids flutter....
and then so does my stomach... |
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| it swims, it sleeps, it hiccups, and it's starting to move just a little more... |
[Feb. 27th, 2006|11:39 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | love | ] |
| [ | music |
| | three heartbeats, gentle and kind... | ] |
It hard to tell.
It's not as though it kicks.
My girl says it feels like a little butterfly flutter from time to time.
Sometimes the little guy/gal??? will stay in one place for a long time....
but my girl showed me yesterday how to tell when it moves around...
from place to place....
finding comfort...
finding home...
It's still only about five and a half to six inches long (Crown to Rump length they call it.)
But she call feel it shift about just a little here and there.
She gently places my hands on her belly, with her hand on top of mine...
and we sing songs...
or she'll sing, with the guitar gently pressed against her belly,
the vibrations of the guitar and her voice...making a familiar home...
making love...
we think of names...
she's scared.
it's just about 4 months...
i can see how hard it is for her to not get too close for fear of losing
something she thought she was never able to produce....
and yet i can see the beauty in her eyes when we both agree on a name...
i can see the beauty in her eyes when she looks to me for comfort,
and for reassurance,
and i know it's hard for her,
and she's knows it's hard on me,
and it is hard to do,
but we do it....
:) |
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| In the morning |
[Nov. 14th, 2005|12:06 pm] |
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She walks around the apartment in long sweaters, legs bare; shapely, sexy, sweet. |
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| We're just a couple of saps |
[Sep. 3rd, 2005|01:14 pm] |
"I descended from kings into the arms of a prince."
It's as corny as a drive through Minnesota, but I can tell by the way she looks at me when she says it, so, so sweetly, that she means it. |
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| Hummingbirds |
[Aug. 28th, 2005|02:43 am] |
So there we are, high on love and sex and no sleep, careening into Long and McQuade. Rent a cello? Hell, why not? I've always wanted to do it, I've just never been high enough on life to say the words, "Hey, do you folks rent out cellos?" And what the hell, while we're here, a tenor saxophone too. And lets go splitsies on that loop station; that seems cool.
We're laughing, we're happy, we're throwing arms around each other at street corners. Food? Who needs food? We live on Brazilian sugar water and almonds, hummingbirds buzzing through the morning. She gives me her old glasses to wear and tells me I look sexy. Her smile makes my day.
Her smile makes my day. |
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| Shevelled |
[Aug. 24th, 2005|02:22 pm] |
So we slip into the bath together last night, my girl and I, and I feel the worries and pressures of the week gradually slipping away. I wake up refreshed this morning, genuinely happy. That's been too rare lately. I'm glad to have it back.
She drives me out to the boonies, way up north somewhere - Sheppard, I think - and we talk, enjoy each other's company. Walking back to the subway station, I sit under the 401 overpass. I'll play my guitar here, I think. It'll be counter-cultural. A kid stops, asks for a light. I don't have one. He sits down beside me. His hair is almost as dishevelled as mine. I offer him the guitar. He's smiling, he plays Nirvana and Marilyn Manson and then some heavier stuff I haven't heard of. Culture, counter-culture? Doesn't really matter, I guess. |
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| Afternoon delight |
[Aug. 19th, 2005|11:25 pm] |
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She makes up sweet songs for me, her head resting on my chest, her fingers caressing her guitar. She sings quiet but clear of Christmas and kangaroos, of cousins and koala bears. |
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| Her hair looks great, too |
[Aug. 9th, 2005|04:21 pm] |
I read recently that, according to ECG scans, a woman's brain shuts off completely during orgasm.
"Le petit mort", they used to call it. "The little death". Oblivion. Nirvana. |
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| Morning |
[Aug. 1st, 2005|09:23 am] |
I only mention her in my Livejournal with the little lock thingie where, like, one person can see it, she says. She's cute and funny about it, but it's obvious it irks her.
And so she sleeps there behind me, and I type here, and the sun rises. And phrases come and go, and I quote and unquote Dorothy Parker poems, and in the end there's this, and thoughts of peanut butter sandwiches clinked together like wineglasses.
I'm sweet on her. Quite. |
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| At the grocery store |
[Jul. 29th, 2005|11:35 pm] |
We kiss beside the clementines. "I think I'm falling in love with you", she says.
I think I'm falling in love with her, too. |
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| In the morning |
[Jul. 28th, 2005|11:55 am] |
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Her room has the smell of a girl, gentle scents of lotions and creams. I watch her sleep, chest rising and falling sweetly. |
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| Heresy |
[Jul. 1st, 2005|06:44 pm] |
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Sometimes I suspect that the Beatles were nothing more than the first boy band, and are only considered "great" because of early adopter bias in the power law. |
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| Ancient Chinese Wisdom |
[Jun. 17th, 2005|06:19 pm] |
"You work too hard," Regis says to me. Regis is the resident funny little older Asian guy. "You should take a break, go see a movie or something. I know some people, they work too hard and then they snap, you know?"
So... uh... anybody want to go see a movie with me? My schedule is pretty flexible. I promise I won't snaaaaaargh |
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| Not recommended: |
[Jun. 13th, 2005|09:59 pm] |
...a quickly-moving Gardiner Expressway, in the rain, as night falls, on a motorcycle.
Also not recommended: Missing your exit.
Just in case, y'know, you're ever tempted to try it. |
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