April 2016 - Page 2 of 2 - Our Lady of Lust and GraceOur Lady of Lust and Grace

Uncategorized

Step Up or Stay Down

April 9, 2016

You met me at a strange time in my life.

Cue the Pixies Where is my Mind and watch them einstürzende neubauten (Tall buildings falling down)

Where is my mind?

Seriously.

I am in a perpetual state of losing it.

On a long enough timeline, the men I’ve loved come back to me.

And when they do, their credit goes back to zero. Full reset. Oh you hurt me and ignored me? It’s fine. Come on in and do it again.

Like I live in the factory where they make get out of jail free cards and I hand them out like Halloween candy, all willy fucking nilly. That is the tall building that needs to come crashing down.

Do right by me or get the fuck out and stay out.

I’m having barbed wire installed around my hearts blanket fort and teaching her how to use a knife.

Samesies is the theme of the week.

Ghosts I forgot about coming out of the machine.

My ex-husband resuming his king of the cock blocking robots status. I abdicated my throne and he jumped right back in it. Stay down fucker.

http://live.ezezine.com/ezine/archives/3_11/3_11-2016.04.04.22.23.archive.html

GEMINI (May 21-June 20):

For a time, pioneer physicist Albert Einstein served as a professor at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, NJ. On one occasion, a student complained to him, “The questions on this year’s exam are the same as last year’s.” Einstein agreed that they were, then added, “But this year all the answers are different.” I’m seeing a similar situation in your life, Gemini. For you, too, the questions on this year’s final exam are virtually identical to last year’s final exam — and yet every one of the answers has changed. Enjoy the riddle.

I am not enjoying the riddle, not one tiny little fucking bit. But I figured it out.

For me…the answers are the same but the question is different.

I need to teach my heart about tenses. Past present and future.

I need to keep my standard of how I allow myself to be treated as gender neutral. And my girls have set the bar high. Clear it.

My Magic Mamawolf heard my soul screeching and messaged to check on me. I told her about walking into the Hulk’s house and losing my shit, and that it wouldn’t have been so bad if the Giant hadn’t left me 2 days before. And yet another new/old one cancelling a date…we are referring to him as Sparks* (galore)

I have love coming from far and wide, but it’s so fucking far and I need you so much closer.

Her: Places where strong memories live are hard and can be sneaky.

Me: It was bad. It was the culmination of the 3 things.

Her: Well spark him. Hard, anyone walking the earth with eyes that belong in the face of an archangel should be touched like lighting.*

Me: Yesh. But I’m not chasing anyone anymore. (I wish she hadn’t said lightning)

Her: Not chase… seduce. Subtle yet BIG difference between the two

Me: Damn mama

Truth

Testify

Her: It is a hell of a truth

Me: Needed it

Her: You just needed reminder, your legs are shaky had a couple of rough rounds

Me: Also truth

Her: It happens and we forget ourselves, which is why we have touch stones that love us.

Me: Yesh

She is a mountain of a touchstone for me, and also very far away. I would drive 16 hours to sit in her kitchen and have coffee while being climbed by her perfect pixie kids though.

Her youngest pronounces my name as Share-wa. And says Yesh for yes. It is now a permanent part of my bizarre secret language.

I had an epiphany last night at work, surrounded by my best girls. Wrote it down as it was one of those 8:30pm epiphanies that tends to get lost before 1am, they drown in coolers along with my liver and sobriety.

The epiphany was this.

I have the best girlfriends in the world. They understand me as much as they are able. They love me as is. Even though I rarely go out to the myriad of things they invite me to, they know they can always come here and get warm food, warm bed and warm love from me when needed.

The balance of communication is pretty perfect. We talk when we talk and I never feel ignored.

That being said, when I was going through my transformation, I lost a few really good girlfriends, they had been with me through thick and more thick and me super thin.

At one point I considered she who was to become my sisterwife and her evil best friend, my friends.
I have since ended my toxic relationships with women.

They were bad for me and I knew it, so I cut them off or in one case got cut off, nice and clean.
Do I miss them? Yes from time to time. I mostly just wish them well…far, far away from me.

I got rid of the poisoned ones and cultivated better drama-free relationships with the women who stayed with me and found new.

It hurts to actively be interested in anyone and be actively ignored.
My girls don’t make me feel secondary, abandoned, lost nor neglected. Nor do I ever allow anyone around me to feel that way.

I have said before any man is lucky to have any one of us. We hold each other up and lighten his load immensely.

I keep joking that my love life is built on cursed ground.

It isn’t. I just have to start treating the men in my life how I treat my girls and accept nothing less from the mens than I get from my women.
Just be here, why is this hard?

I am not chasing anyone anymore. I can’t. I don’t care if you can do that thing with your tongue, hips, fingertips.

I do deserve to be loved the way I love. I’m really fucking good at it. Ask my girls, they know.

lost boys

The Head and the Heart…Shake

April 8, 2016

I have been falsely crying ‘writer’s block’. I don’t have writer’s block.

I have a mental block and it is fucking HUGE.

I want to stop talking/thinking about the Giant and I can’t.

I tried.

I tried to write about other things and it all kept wrapping back around to this.

There is some scientific research that states that sometimes you have to hear a song 10 times before you like it.

Happened to me with the Biebs, “Where are You Now?” mind you we were driving fast in Leah’s car laughing and smiling in the late summer warm.

Sometimes you just know.

I knew.

Also my life is a double entendre so keep that in mind while reading.

I told a lie.

I said “I hesitated to give you these songs because I didn’t want you thinking I was trying to say things with the lyrics, you know having feelings and whatnot.”

Walking After You was strategically placed and I meant every word. And I hunted down that version of Comfortable by John Mayer because it’s important.

I retracted the lie, but only partway. I have feelings, it is entirely possible I am made of pure feels.

Which is going to make this next part harder to believe. S’okay.

There is a girl at work, I call her Giggles because, ya, she giggles and it’s the sweetest thing, she is the sweetest thing. Baby strippers can go one of two ways in the first month, crazy or cute. She remains, totally adorable. She makes me think it is possible that serotonin can walk around in human form, just looking at her makes me happy.

One night whilst texting with the Giant, I asked him to come rescue me from work. She knew what was happening and was shaking invisible pompoms hoping he would show. I told her I would walk right out the damn door with him.
I wonder if she thinks my life is some kind of romance novel, I wish I could write her a better ending, but we are still in that conflict/shit is not working out right now, middle portion of the story.

He didn’t, but she watched the door for me and we played a rousing game of ‘that’s not him’.

In fact, all tall people now beg the question, “is that him?” I think she will just know if and when he ever shows up.

I gotta digress a bit.

I loathe a good portion of the music at work. We call the place “Tommy’s Hungarian Disco.” Lots of dance music, I realize there are different genres and subtle nuances to that shite but it’s lost on me, it all sounds like a headache waiting to happen, or the muzak in one of the seven levels of hell.

When I was on my staying away from anything remotely emotion kick post Giant, I stole some music from Giggles. A rather rapey, grindy tune by SoMo called Ride On.

She dances to a vast array of whatever she fucking feels like.

One song is called Shake, by The Head and the Heart.

I had to ask her 27 times what it was called. It was one of those songs I ‘just knew’ I liked.

I stopped talking to the Giant for 3 weeks, when I messaged him again he said he had burned through one of the cds I made him, played it so much it was starting to skip.

Oh ya I totally did that.

That was the lie. I made him 3 or 4 mixed cds, 19 songs each. Labeled them funny things like I tend to do. Lightning in a Jar was the one he warped, it was all instrumental. Oh the irony isn’t lost.

So, when we decided to meet for coffee of course I made him a new copy, and two new ones.

Upon which just so happened to be Shake. Song 5.

I swear it didn’t know what it said, and everybody knows I drink too much at work to retain lyrics.

But if the perfect song fits…

Well the ink in my pen ran dry long before your smile
And the pages have always been blank like the trees in the wild
But the wind yes the wind keeps pushing you to me
Time being time I know when it’s time to leave

And the memories we’ve made
Will never be lost, no
And the look on your face
We both knew the cost
But the wind yes the wind keeps
Howlin’

I put in the pictures, you put in the time
You put all those memories so deep inside my mind
Now the wind yes the wind keeps pushing you to me
Time being time I know when it’s time to leave

And the memories we’ve made
Will never be lost, no
And the look on your face
We both knew the cost
But the wind yes the wind keeps
Howlin’

Even if it was a mistake, I can’t forget your face
Even if it was just a day, you won’t forget the one
Who’s making you shake

Come around, I lost my way to see
Come around, I lost my way to see
Come around, I lost my way to see
Come around, I lost my way to see

Even if it was a mistake, I can’t forget your face
Even if it was just a day, you won’t forget the man
Who’s making you shake

Who’s making you shake
You shake
I’m making you shake
You shake
I’m making you shake

He’s making me shake.

The last thing he said is that the things we’d done would be hard to forget.

Why would you even try?

I can’t Taylor Swift and “shake, shake shake it off.”

I cannae Florence and her glorious Machine neither “And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back. So shake him off”.

Maybe it isn’t so much of an I can’t, as an I don’t fucking want to.

What if this storm ends and I don’t see you? Snow Patrol, song 7.

I fucking miss you.

lost boys, Uncategorized

Good Riddance and the Poltergeist

April 5, 2016

I did that. I am Alice and Wonderland and the Queen of Hearts and the Cheshire Cat and sometimes the Mad Hatter.

Today I am just mad.

Good riddance.

I think that is about the shittiest thing you can say to/about a person.

Breaks my fucking heart, and yet here I am thinking it so hard it is bleeding out onto paper.

In all fairness, he caused the gaping chest wound that is providing the fresh flow of blood for ink.

Writing effigies, trying to close doors and change the locks, yesterday he went and stuck his foot in it.

The fuck?

Please, let me go.

Don’t post my picture on your Instagram. It’s tacky. Stop salting the wound, it stings enough.

Just cauterize the thing already and be done with it. Use the matches you normally burn bridges with honey.

He said he wrote volumes for me but I never got to read a word of it. I am wondering if there is any truth to it. My truth is tattooed on my skin for the world to see. I showed my love.

I showed him everything and then…

He said he didn’t want me. That myself and my friends are narcissists, arguing and dragging through the mud anyone who doesn’t agree with us.

No mud honey.

They were defending me and I defended him.

I knew what he meant because he called me and explained himself.

I didn’t get such a luxury. Just an unanswered text, one in a sea of hundreds that I am drowning in.

As always she is a prisoner of her ghosts.

I am in prison, locked in here, they come and go as they please and leave me stuck.

Why the fuck am I always the one leaving the door open?

I was the last to message the Poet, 88, Young Un … god the list goes on and on and basically reads ‘all of them’.

I know what it is like to be abandoned and I cannae visit that wretchedness on another human being, especially not those I let into my bed and my heart.

I always double check. I always forgive. I always listen to the explanations when they wander back. And they do wander back. I make excuses for them, like maybe time passes differently where they are. But what about me and my time?

“Oh where have you been my blue-eyed son, oh where have you been my darling young one?
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans, been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard.”
~Bob Dylan, A Hard Rains Gonna Fall

That is where I live. The mouth of a fucking graveyard. My love life seems to have been built upon an ancient burial ground and the land is cursed.

And that is what I need, a hard fucking rain. Wash all this shit away.

I can’t anymore.

Whether it is the message they mean to convey or not, all it spells out on my tombstone is ‘she didn’t matter enough to stay/try/fight/love/nothing.’

{See also good riddance.}

I am the common denominator. I see this.

I am so tired of feeling disposable. I am anything but.

Things have got to change, and by things I mean me, and how I do things.

I am not a priest in a box. I don’t have to absolve anyone anymore.

If someone says you hurt them you do not get to decide that you didn’t.
~Louis CK.

I take responsibility for my actions, especially if they are shitty. I own it. I make amends. I say “I am sorry I made you feel that way”, and vow to never do it or anything like it again. I carry every hurt given and every sin committed as a reminder of what not to do again or unto others.

Where are my amends? My forgiveness. My unconditional love.

When is it my turn?

How about now.

Squint your eyes and look closer
I’m not between you and your ambition
I am a poster girl with no poster
I am thirty-two flavors and then some
and I’m beyond your peripheral vision
so you might want to turn your head
cause someday you’re going to get hungry
and eat most of the words you just said
~
Both my parents taught me about good will
and I have done well by their names
just the kindness I’ve lavished on strangers
is more than I can explain
still there’s many who’ve turned out their porch lights
just so I would think they were not home
and hid in the dark of their windows
til I’d passed and left them alone
~Ani DiFranco, 32 flavors

{See also ‘fuck you and your untouchable face’.}

I am making a new covenant with the universe.

If I catch the slightest whiff of fuckboi coming off them I am slamming the fucking door and smudging the house.

I hereby renounce my ‘keep striking and I’ll forgive you’ policy to 2 strikes and you are out.
One if you are new or I am annoyed.

I am fucking done.

I am burying my own dead here to appease the restless spirits and re-fertilize the sacred ground.

I want my swagger, juju and magic back and the one that is my equal.

Everything else is in my rearview.

Yes, I am bulletproof, but why the fuck are you shooting at me? Friendly-fire is the worst of the oxymorons.
Please stop shooting at me, my shield is broken and I’m tired.

I don’t need an exorcism, I just need to do what that family in Poltergeist ought to have done.

GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE.

I am on my way back from the dead.

*If there is one among you whom I have NOT provided closure for, or a reasonable explanation for my absence please speak now or forever hold your peace. Lift your curse or I will do it for you. Nothing weighs as much as this shit I’ve been carrying around and 99% of this baggage doesn’t belong to me.

unable to even

After the Flood

April 4, 2016

I have cried and come enough the last few weeks to end up drowning in all of it.

The levies broke and I got washed away. Trying to get my bearings and figure out where I am and where I want to be.

Now everything is a salty/sex-and-tear stained soaked mess and I’m trying to figure out what, if anything, is worth salvaging. Picking through the flotsam, hanging some of it out to dry. Fighting the urge to throw it all away.

Ain’t nothing making any sort of immediate sense at all and I’m losing my mind.

Saturn has gone retrograde and the life lessons and déjà vu are coming in such rapid succession I can’t pull back far enough out of the feels to see the big picture.

8 planets are heading into retrograde. That’s a lot of planets. Honestly, I don’t know what it all means to have them moving backwards like this, except I feel like I am running up the down escalator. Fighting for every inch of climb. It just started and I am already tired.

Like a heartbeat… drives you mad…In the stillness of remembering what you had…And what you lost…And what you had…And what you lost.*

Forgive me father for I have sinned and I have no plans on stopping anytime soon. In fact, I think I want to stop being so fucking virtuous and start thinking/believing that I deserve some happiness too. Taking it when it presents itself. Being a good girl and worrying about people who couldn’t give a fuck about me is no longer serving me, nor my ego/heart/logic/vagina aka the Royal We.

I am not a saint, at some point every saint had a choice.

If Saturn goes retrograde, and he has, does that mean he stops being an asshole?

Sadly, the answer is no. If it’s even at all possible Cronos the Titan becomes and even more titanic alcoholic dad swinging a belt with ferocious strength and deadly accuracy.

Ow.

The fuck?

The actual fuck, seriously now. Not cool universe.

“Oh baby you almost got a hysterical tear filled panic attack induced ear full of crying girl yesterday. I hit a fucking wall, after I thought I couldn’t hit it any harder. I sprained my soul I cried so hard.” I said.

“Next time….call me. Cry and wail and scream….we don’t even have to talk….just know you won’t be alone. And those walls serve a purpose….” He replied.

“It is time for a big upheaval methinks violently tearing things down so I can rebuild and the universe is swinging the wrecking ball with my name in it.” (Please let this be the truth.)

“Let that fucker swing baby.” (I love it when he calls me that).
He proceeded to send me his phone number, just in case. The world needs more of him, MY world needs more of him.

I didn’t post on a Sunday, I think I have missed maybe one other Sunday ever. I didn’t know what to say.

I have 14 documents open on my laptop. 15 if you count my Opus, but the filth and the fury contained in there is for print only.

All these tidbits and opening paragraphs, some just a link to a meme and a working title.

I can’t seem to make sense of anything. And everything is so rapidly changing. Things that were the truth last Monday morning have ceased to be tangible or real.

I drunk texted the Poet in one last attempt to free his head from his ass, to no avail.

I slept with the Giant for an extra week to attempt the same thing and also because um …mind boggling lightning sex. Nope, just got passed over yet again for the safehaven of a traveling waitress.

Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions, I keep my visions to myself. It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams and…Have you any dreams you’d like to sell? Dreams of loneliness…

(Of what you had and what you lost)*

Friday/Saturday were cluster-fucks of epic proportions.

Took a Friday night off work to go to a birthday party with friends. Got lost, got rescued by a man I have harboured a tiny crush on for a decade. We were flirting, then we weren’t, then we were again. We had a date and then we didn’t and now we do again.

I went out for lunch the next day with friends from the previous night’s birthday revelry. With the intention of going to a tattoo shop re-opening. Said shop has taken over the Hulk’s old apartment and converted it beautifully into a tattoo studio. I haven’t been there since he left last July. Thought I was okay.

Nope.

I made it up the stairs. Everything was so different. Eyes wide open, taking everything in. Every time I blinked flashing right back to couch snuggles and kitchen renos, unpacking boxes and then packing them again. Face love from his brown dog. Knees shaking at the bottom of the stairs, confessions into his jacket on the back steps. Biting my hand to stifle moans having afternoon sex and knowing how thin the walls were. Choking back tears when he left.

Caught a mutual friend’s gaze in the middle of this. He was looking at me with that “are you okay?” stare. His eyes and mouth conveying pity mixed with concern. I turned on my heel and ran down the stairs. I was not okay with this.

Took me 45 minutes sitting in the parking lot to start seeing/breathing normally enough to leave.

I think my writer’s block yesterday came from my inability to articulate the why I was so sad. I still don’t know exactly. Each snowflake in an avalanche pleads not guilty (Stanisław Jerzy Lec ) so does every drop of rain in a flood.

When the rain washes you clean… you’ll know, you’ll know*

Time to get clean, learn to swim in this or else I’ll drown.

I’m ready for things to make sense right about … now.

(*Dreams, Fleetwood Mac)

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