Time To Pretend

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"I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms.

I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world.

I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home.

Yeah I'll miss the boredom and the freedom and the time spent alone.

But there is really nothing, nothing we can do.

Love must be forgotten. Life can always start up anew. ..."

~MGMT

Cheers maybe next time! ~

Tree of Life

 

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"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, 

but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life." 

Proverbs 13:12

 

A Fools Love

Jeannie Patchett, Paris,  Vogue 1950, by Norman Parkinson

…often times we live in the past. We look for a rope to grab on to, to pull us back to life, lift us out of the pit of darkness we seem to be drowning in…but for some reason it never seems to appear. Occasionally the light seems to shine thru, and then darkness again swallows us up. Love is an unyielding foe. It has no sympathy for the weak, nor does it care for the strong who have been broken. It will sneak up and take you away without the graciousness of a please or thank you. And when the fire, intense burning, and storm it created have left destruction behind, it offers no apology. Love offers only the afterglow of near death…and then slowly burns out. A little sneak who lays dormant, comes alive and destroys all equilibrium that once was power and entitlement.                  

Why then…we live on yesterdays love because the burn and intensity was so intoxicating. Floating breathless, filled with unexplainable fearful joy.  To give up that which is so tangible, which at one time, near perfect, found its way to the surface. Your life becomes a whirl of moving parts a sort of theatrical production. So many necessary elements to navigate...is it that which cools the flame? The reality of the world. Loss…so much loss… dreams gone in an instant. Family and lives once seeming to create themselves, fallen to dust. Snap, and it’s gone...from that moment it’s as if life stands still. Each breath and beat of your heart is a question. 

Love can kill you…Those who once loved you will soon forget. You are no longer a part of their lives, soon fading from their thoughts. You are that dust picked up by the wind, blown away. And nobody, nobody will notice. You will be forgotten because they have no other reason, but to speak fondly of you now and again. Some will say they care of your misfortune, understand your loss...of course all have suffered. Yes, all have suffered. Some move on, congratulations to those warriors. But, many chose to die the valiant death of a lover. To never let what they believed in fade away, never let that true love go. To accept the punishment of Love, the sucking suffocation in your chest, the insistent throb under your skin, and swelling in your head that never ceases. Once clear eyes now see only thru salted skins. The look of youth fades but in seconds, and in its place the crevices of each lost tone of laughter...smiles forcedly being worn in memory of…A human shell, plodding along waiting for that moment when the promised sun will show. Yet, it never comes. 

Each day you rise to continue the routine for those around, to escape being exposed. And each night again you are lost with your love. Just let go…just let go! It’s a choice” they say. “Turn a new page”. “There is more time for love, great love”. “Open your eyes to the world”. Perhaps I am mad. “Mad as a hatter”. I have tried and I can not. Perhaps my love is different…perhaps I hate myself for my mistakes…perhaps I wish for second chances, to do everything right…

I will forever be that voice in your head, and you will be that warmth on my skin, breeze crossing my lips, and voice resting in me. I shall try yet again in vein…goodbye…So this was my attempt. To die in words…to die by the sight of my words, and live again by all the strength which is in me.

Bloody Battles

...perhaps you've experienced that feeling...lost in absolute bliss, loved perfectly, understood mind and body, without explanation. You can't know the height of such amazing fulfillment without history-making bloody battles, all fought, never won...but this balance is what creates such a deep burning desire, which time nor thought can extinguish. Together these two elements maintain a lifetime of passion...So, remember. The best things encountered in life, if of high value, are going to take work to attain and maintenance to keep alive...to those who have found their fire, nurture it, very few rise to the challenge...be the exception.

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"Splendor in the Grass"

I watched "Splendor in the Grass" last night. It was a beautiful and impacting film. It addressed the opinions of sexuality in the 20's and 30's, along with the pressures of society during that time. Not only do I think the film is a touching piece of work; I feel the theme and it's many layers can still be identified with today. The film speaks for it's self. Here's the trailer...take a peek...

Splendor in the Grass | Movies & TV | SPIKE.com

It was inspired by William Wordswoth's:

Ode: Intimations of Immortality

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind... 

 

The Chicken Adventure

Isn't it wonderful when your strolling down the street and you pass by a restaurant; and the most enticing smells of tasty food come floating out the door tempting your tummy, beckoning you in.

...Or when you live in an appartment, like I do, and your taste buds stand to salute because the neighbor is hatching up some Tuscan inspired dinner...but for some reason your invitation was lost in the mail.

For the cooking impaired and unwilling (guilty!!) these aromas are always an absolute tease. The only sign dinner's ready for us is the familiar beep, beep, beep of the microwave.

Well, for the first time ever. I was guilty of causing all the taste buds in Pacific Heights to take pause and wonder? Where was that amazing smell signaling dinner was ready coming from? I, used the oven in my appartment, and roasted my first chicken.

This was no small feat!! And I couldn't have done it without the encouragement of a dear friend.

I've never touched a naked bird, ever (nor had I ever planned to). Looking at it, legs wide apart I was afraid of how to pick it up, it looked so vulnerable. I was told to wash it. OK, right! So, after a bit of analyzing I grabbed it by the legs and the fun began. It felt very personal to be handling and bathing a chicken. But I had to keep my focus...so, I dried her off ready to proceed.

I had read about stuffing things in the "cavity". So, I sliced a lemon, took some basil along with some Thyme and holding my breath pushed all these things inside...it is unmistakeably a "cavity". Next, the easy part...rubbed her down with butter and sprinkled her with some special seasonings. No string for legs (??), I took an olive poker and pierced the legs together. Into the oiled pan with some baby artichokes, oven (challenge there), roast, roast, roast for an hour... tad-ah!

My Chicken!  ...and a bit of self satisfaction, yummy.

Little Pieces

Picking up where I left off...

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me."  ~Erma Bombeck