Love Songs

_{Writing love based things seems so far removed from who and where I currently am... although I’m sure that there’s more in me. I’m currently writing something new and quite dark between editing. It’s been a minute but from what I recall, relationships are tricky things.}

_{I love to see love and do my best to avoid seeing cheap imitations of it, as opposed to wishing it could be unseen. I’m happy for my favorite kens & dolls who are involved as much as when I’m involved. Typically I’m very protective of love affairs because it takes a small amount of interference to break things apart. Quite possibly there’s always a different plan for your life if you don’t end up with a certain person... there are other things to focus on that may lead you to the right person, if you let it happen.} 

Do you ever assume your story or a chapter in your life is over when ends up different than you imagined? It’s a foreign concept because it’s not something I ever pondered. It would require never moving on to learn or have new experiences. To me, life is Unwritten... Which is oddly enough the title of my next series/book. 

_{Its been a couple years and I still don’t miss the musicians but I do miss my friends, the music & finding more time to create with words... so I wrote something about sharing those songs we love.} 

_Enjoy!

_{Kisses, m.} 

The Mixtape 

Click, wiss, whir, whin. Chipmunk voices. Click. Repeat.

I don’t how the cassette deck in this car still works but it does. 

It doesn’t sound like the most humane thing but somewhere between the desert and the San Jacinto Mountains we lost the radio and phone signals. 

“Can you believe they still make these?” he says pulling the cassette out of the cars deck. The label is pulling off the corner and I can just make out the words ‘Day Mix’ before he sets it down.

“I can’t believe you kept some mixtapes. I thought they were…”

“All playlists or mix CDs. Nah, some of these had the best night music.” 

Quickly rifling through the tape case he grabs one labeled ‘love songs’ and shakes it at me, before pushing it into the deck. “This one here is the best for driving at night.”

The otherworldly falsetto of an Antony and the Johnsons track fills the warm air of the night. Our two headlights are the brightest thing on the horizon while the color blue blankets the hills around our small car. 

“So you still…”

“Make mixtapes? I was waiting for you to catch that. Mostly mix CDs and transfer them to cassette sometimes. It gets harder to find the tapes.”

“It’s nice to be here, with you like this. The last time we were together...”

“I’m always too busy. I’d apologize but…”

“You don’t have to, we’re here now. Do you have that one song on here?” 

“You remember?”

“Yes. You stuck it on all your “love mixes.” 

Click, wiss, whir, whin. Click. wiss, whir, whin. Click.

“Crying… over you…” Roy Orbison echoes out into the night. 

“We don’t have to listen to this.” 

“Oh we have to listen to something.”

Shaking the case, I tell him, “Dealer’s Choice.”

Second

Second chances, second chances... you know they rarely have to do with the same people... it’s more to do within us and our situations. The universe means for you to expand and experience living through growing, changing and moving forward. Interacting with new people and situations is part of that process. Things that no longer serve or challenge us aren’t helping, they are hindering our life. 

Here’s a story that is a second draft... it has little to do with its origin and everything to do with taking a chance on a change of perspective. 

Do you give yourself chances? 

Enjoy! 

Kisses, m. 

Closer #2

(10-15-2011)

Closer. Gently I pull his face towards mine with a smile. Both hands holding his jaw firmly and I can feel the lines of his mouth lift to match my grin. Both my arms tightly locked with the intent to move in. So very innocently I look up into those eyes and try to match their gaze. He lowers his arms and I reach over. His breath hits my cheek in deep heavy blows of anticipation. Finally my face is resting against his and he’s waiting for it. The tip of my nose meets his cheek and I giggle. He remains still and solemn allowing my gentle affections to progress. Carefully my lips find their way upwards. Closer. Lightly I push tiny little kisses against his skin. Lips flit over and around the eyes before making their journey to the ears. Delicate little flutters of his eyes caress my face as I move. Hot breath escapes the warmth of my open mouth as I continue to address the situation. Never breaking my hold of his jaw I begin nursing my target with the tenderness of a skilled surgeon. The lobe of his ear is tender to my kiss. Without indicating any warning I gently open to spread my lips further for a tickle with my tongue. Mouth continues to move back around when he laughs at my silliness. Closer. Carefully I withdraw my lips and add a breath of warm air into his ear. He presses a slight pressure against my cheek with his lips. Drawing back I tenderly kiss his neck with my lips before climbing back up around his ear. His pressure against my skin slowly intensifies as I draw out my intention. Quietly his breath increases with excitement. Tenderly I hold onto his jawbone making it clear that he is to remain still. The sound of his breath is growing deeper while I continue to tickle and press into the opening with my breath. As he attempts to draw back with simple pleasure I persist in keeping him close. Waiting for a sound that hasn’t made its presence known, his nose presses against my cheek to tease it out. Closer. Finally the tip of my tongue softly pushes back against the top of my mouth until there is no barrier. With no more than a breath I tell him, “Do you want to know a secret?”

Wide shut

Love sees with the heart not with the eyes. Love is without words, without looks and without demanding someone say it to you... When you love someone and know it’s reciprocated then you feel it in every touch and breath. A look in the eye is inconsequential when love is in your heart. You feel it and you don’t need the words to be said. A kiss with eyes open is a lie even with someone telling you the words of love. 

Do you need a look and words to know it’s love? Why?

Here’s one about the blindness of love...

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Blindsided

_(1-22-11)

Ladies and Gentlemen, that lovely song was by the great Cole Porter. I can’t see you all, but I’m sure glad to hear you’re enjoying yourselves. Anyone who is just joining us this evening thanks for coming out and welcome to Limelight. If you’ve found yourself alone this is where we’ve all come together. No one is alone. I bet most you are single. Ain’t no shame in the game. Which one you say? The love game. Oh I know there’s a few pairs out there. And I love to hear that. Don’t you know it? Well, that’s the thing isn’t it? Love. It’s the blind leading the blind honeys. And don’t I know it. One of you down in front tell me what you think about that? Like I thought, you didn’t have a clue. That’s the truth. Blindsided. Now, honey, I could tell you a thing or two about being blind. You barely know what’s coming before it hits you. But nonetheless you do know its coming. It’s something about developing a sixth sense for things that are coming. They say when you lose your sight the other senses start kicking into high gear. But without being able to see what’s coming you learn to feel your way around. I wouldn’t know much about that since I was born and raised blind. Anyway, I think that analogy works for love though. Blind, can’t see it coming, but oh how you might feel it. It never surprises me that whenever I greet love my lil ol’ ticker starts working overtime in my chest. Couldn’t say what it is exactly? Yet it happens each and every time. Mr. Porter got it right when he said, “What is this thing called love?” With that my lovelies here’s another song for you.

Continuing

There is no conflict unless you see one or create one. There’s nothing in Buddhism about quitting or giving up. Just letting go. You let go of pushing & pulling to let things happen because all that push & pull isn’t truly making things happen. It’s just the illusion that it is. Usually when I tell myself “I quit” it means I’m releasing my perception of how it should be & letting go so it can happen. You don’t force love, living & breathing so why anything else? 

A very old friend of mine continues to be insensitive after years & years of us being friends. It is bothersome to me & some of our mutual friends. Although it’s hard to see discord among friends I quit forcing issues a long time back because it’s futile. You see no matter how much you try to change anyone, they won’t change unless they’re ready to. I continue to remain true to myself & address the issues delicately instead of trying to cause pain by ignoring or distancing myself, but in the end it is up to my friend to change. 

Why stay friends? People who care remain your friend and forgive your mistakes if you are making an effort & trying. True friends want the best for you as they want it for themselves. We are human & fallible.

So I don’t have the Buddhist answer for anyone who really finds themselves in a place of resistance with the universe & people in it except... quit trying to manipulate or have expectations of people or things, put in the hard work & effort into yourself & your decisions then you will see results. Doesn’t mean that people or things won’t happen or try to derail you, just means there’s something to learn when those people or things happen. Don’t make what anyone else is doing about you... especially your friends. You aren’t butting heads unless you choose to be. Realize that they’re on their own journey, like you... just love them, mistakes, imperfections and all. They need your love as much as you do. 

Here’s a 300 about continuing in the same way... it’s not quitting if it’s time to change your approach to something. You’re only returning to the start or starting over if you want to. 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Again?

(4-3-2011)

Are we back here again?

He tells me that we are and that I’m supposed to know why.

I can’t see what he sees and I don’t know why

Or how we ended up here…

Again.

It doesn’t matter why.

Or how.

Or who did it.

It only matters that we’re here.

And we shouldn’t be.

There’s a thousand reasons to see things the way they were.

And one reason to see things different.

I want to see it differently.

And I wonder if he doesn’t want the same thing.

We’ve tried and failed at seeing it from each others eyes.

It’s time for us to see it the same way.

He’s busy working against me when he throws a fist at the wall.

It’s not me he’s mad at.

It’s the situation.

But that won’t stop him from feeling that anger.

That anger is fear.

And the fear is what takes us back to the start.

When he says it’s me that brings us back to the start I know that’s not true.

There is no start or end in this.

It’s nothing like a circle.

There is no center.

There is only the outside like a wall.

And what’s left inside is…

Nothing.

It’s always back to where we started when it should be where we are going.
The future is constantly changing with every move that we make.

Even when we keep starting we’re changing everything.

So why aren’t we moving forward now?

I’m ready to keep moving ahead toward what comes next.

And all he wants to do is start over again.

Again and again.

There’s no way we can win the race if it continues to restart.

No coming back to here.

Time to forget why or how.

It’s time to win the race…

Together.

Composure

“You’ll lose your mind, trying to understand others”

No matter what you think you see... it’s how you compose yourself that counts. 

How do you deal with things?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Relax

“Relax,” the way he says the words reminds me of my mother because of his smile. 

 

Whenever I’m receiving less than pleasant news from my mother she purses her lips and gives me a smile that is the bearer of a consolation prize. It really isn't a bad face, but I can recognize the look a mile a way. The first time I can remember her making the face, I was five years old. They were sending my cat Giana St. Matthews away. I was allergic to her hair and the medicine made my hands and face break out in hives. I remember how much I cried that day Giana was given to my cousin Dina. I knew she would be happy and taken care of, but it still didn’t make me feel any better. My mother told me to relax with her best smile while my father handed me a puppy. 

 

In this moment he stands before me. I know he’s only trying to calm me and there’s no consolation prize. No puppy or pressing of lips into a smile that will mask my disappointment through placation. There’s only a reassuring calm in his voice that keeps pressing onward. Comforting my mind and reminding me that although nothing can make this feeling improve it can be released. As this moment progresses and expands into an unending din in my mind he continues to be the voice of reason. His voices soothes and reminds  me that I’ve worked myself into a tirade of worry for nothing; that all of my anxiety is unnecessary and I am overreacting to situations and things that are beyond my control. I know that the only chance of releasing my panic is to let it all go. 

 

“Relax,” he says and smiles again. 

 

 

Internal

Love is internal. It’s not external. Love exists within. It does keep you warm, metaphorically. It’s not found in the eyes, ears or mouth. Once love is within you, it’s always there. Losses, breakups and hurt feelings can not remove love from you. Others can help you amplify the love within. You can use your eyes, ears, mouth or body to express love for others. But love is eternally found inside of you and you share it with others. 

Love in Buddhism is compassion. My own heartaches always lead me to deepen into my intention to be a more loving human. While I'm healing and integrating the feelings of loss back within I try to focus on sending loving-kindness to others. Sure everyone wants love but much like happiness, it's already within you to be happy and its the same for love.

I'll give you the buddhist answer for once: Love. Just love yourself more. It will all fall into place. When you have love for yourself, you will have love for others. Don't let anyone make you feel bad for not being emotionally ready to share that love. It's okay to keep it to yourself. Personally, I find focusing on myself helps me serve others best. 

If you don't know how to tap into the love within my suggestion is practicing Metta(s) for others. A Metta is a type of meditation. In this meditation you learn to love yourself through connecting and experiencing a sense of unselfish love toward another. Think of someone or something that easily inspires feelings of love, compassion and warmth. It is the best if you can use yourself as the object for compassion. If it's easier you can use a friend, family member, a child or an animal as a benefactor. Once you find your object, you focus on your feelings for them and let the love grow and expand naturally. You can think 'may you be happy' or 'may you be safe' or "may you be well' and if your metta is focused inward then say "may I be happy" and so on. 

Finding love within opens the possibility for true love or compassion.

Here’s a lil ol story about love, the wanting of love and being a little unsure of love. Just remember, everyone deserves to feel love. 

Do you love yourself?  

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

hit.

What is it honey? Tell me about it then. Love. What about? It hits you that’s for sure. Knocks the wind out of you if you’re not careful.

Let me tell you… Falling is the easy part. The jumping is the tricky part. Most people won’t get close enough to the edge before backing out. How does it happen?

Well you meet someone and you find yourself getting to know each other. All too well. That’s always fun. Soon enough you can‘t stand to be apart and you start telling yourself: It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. And somehow you know you’re in too deep.

At that moment of depth you know you’ve been seduced by their charm.  The feeling you get when they’re around is overwhelming happy. There is no one else you’d rather be with. You still wonder if it was supposed to be different. Wasn’t it?

Your defenses are down. You are completely caught off guard. But that is love. And then there’s no other way it could have been. It happened when you weren’t looking. A wall you can’t get around, over, or crawl under.

Before too long comes the realization: I’m hit. This person’s love has wounded me. I’m not the same as I was.

No way it’s all a big accident and fooling is no longer an option. When you look in the mirror you know by your own reflection that it’s growing inside. Love. An emotion that can not be caged is bigger, louder and completely taking you by surprise. Standing face to face with the inevitable and its more than you care to think about.  You’re consumed with the hope that they are feeling the same.

Balance

Life and love are a balance that are worth the struggle to maintain both.  When you find the right person it's not a struggle. Ms. M has yet to find a Mr. that can handle her balancing act and it's ok because the best things are worth waiting for. Can't rush it. Anyhoo... Here's one of my favorite stories from the new book paired with one of my favorite images by photographer Diego Munoz. It's going to be called Immersed instead of Water. 

What's your favorite part of life to balance? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Break

 

“I can’t believe you can still break my heart.”

 

The distance between our two bodies is less than a foot. I can feel the apprehension in the grip of his hand in mine. The cool salt water splashes over our skin as his eyes well up. It’s not his intention to be distant or to cause harm to my heart, so my words penetrate his mind like a knife. Taking a deep breath he swallows before reaching over to touch my face. 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you’re just hurting. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But…”

 

The tide is calm around his face. I want to turn away as he stops to look in my eyes. I know he doesn’t have the words. We have to be apart someday and I knew this going into things. I knew he’d have to leave but I stayed by his side trying to avoid this day coming. 

 

“You could come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“But what do you have?”

“I have…”

“You hate your job, your family is a phone call away and everything else is a flight away.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re the only one breaking your own heart. I want you to come with me.”

 

It’s my turn to shed the tears. As he pulls me closer, never letting go of my hand, the salt water falls from my eyes. The sun is setting behind us and the waves gently touching the shoreline as we embrace. There’s every reason to go with him and yet I can’t bring myself to follow him on his adventure. 

 

“What happens when I stay?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Why? Will you stop loving me if I stay?”

“No, I will always love you.”

“Then?”

“I can’t believe you’d break my heart.”

 

Deadly

A kiss is only deadly if you mean it...

Here's an old one sort of about deadly intentions.

Do you arm your lips as weapons? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Blow

(3-23-2010)

Blow. Smooth lips pursed together. Red. Delicate. Tiny opening pushing out air. Cheeks strain with the slightest sense of pressure. Air escapes. The chaos amid the noisy cherry velvet room has no relevance. Stuck in this moment. Lighting lifts and dims without notice. Watching. Smiling mouth. Demure. Hand rises up to mouth once more. There it is. Blow. Lips press together in a soft unreturned kiss. Lowering hand thrusts the puff across the room at me. Landing directly upon my face. Smile. Happiness in my heart. The pulse pounding noise surrounding can not break this connection. Thick humidity deepens with the intensity of the crowd. Bodies pass inbetween. No matter. Eyes never leave. Lips stay full. Giggles escape from the soft red. My eyes are smiling with anticipation. Air drawn in again. Blow. An small ‘o’ forms with the gesture. Both hands reach upwards to hide the impending message. Silent. Discreet. Jumping outward and full of excitement. Sending the invisible soldier off into the open expanse. Ready. Aim. Target Acquired. Smile. Turn away. People interrupt. Embracing. Lips locking. Interruption to the beat of the drum. Up. Down. Wet. Tongues. Eyes open. Eyes closed. Neither is thinking the same thing. Disconnected. Break. Parting in different directions. Focus. Across the folding sea. Blow. Lips force an opening. Pushing out an intruding army of wind ready to make battle with any obstacles. Hand reaches up and outward to guide the path. Eyes follow the concealed missile toward its target. Distractions intercede. Path is blocked. Nothing but movement before my eyes. Heated pulsating flesh shoves and hits against my skin. Face buried in the warmth. Hidden. Losing the battle to the electricity of the mass. Hands grabbing and pulling. Sinking. Unknown faces. Smiling eyes. Blow. Air against my cheek. Familiar. Red. Revealed. Soft. Kiss.

Paint

Most people are painting a picture of themselves they want you to see. Some paint what's appealing, others paint exactly who they are. I enjoy the people who paint themselves as authentically as they are. 

Do you paint a picture you want others to see or are you truly authentic? 

Kisses, m.

What do you think?

2-21-2011

What do you think? It’s lovely. Isn’t it? 

That’s alright you don’t have to be an art critic to have an opinion on art. Seriously tell me what you think. 

It’s important that you remain objective though. 

Excuse me? As a matter of fact it… yes I am the artist. 

I’ve been painting since I was five years old. In fact, my first painting was a kitten that looked a bit like a dog sitting next to a ball of yarn shaped like a square. The colors were all wrong too. Can you believe that? 

You can. I see. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you mean by that comment? Oh, you’re absolutely right. Everyone does have to start somewhere. Ain’t that the truth of it? 

Thirteen years ago is when I decided I wanted to do this professionally. Progression? You might say there is a lot of progression in my work. There’s a piece on the wall behind you that is at least eight years old. 

Look at that one. Now look at this one then tell me what you see. 

No, not at all. I don’t want a critic’s voice. If I did, I could ask that man over there. 

Who?! He’s a writer for the Post. He crucifies painters and eats their insides for breakfast. For being an art critic he rarely appreciates anything artistic. As a matter of fact, he didn’t think too highly of my last showing a year ago. It was at this tiny place in Brooklyn. And not only did he manage to attack my work, he found a way to butcher the gallery in the same three line critique.

Touchy? You might say I’m a little sensitive. But you like the work, don’t you? 

Really, tell me what you think.

Fiction

There's nothing like fiction, telling the story how it happened or didn't happen or making one of your own up. One of favorite ways to hear a bit of fact or fiction from a book, magazine or newspaper is when someone reads it to me... so here's a 300 from the archives about reading a bit of fiction.

Do you like to read? 

Enjoy! 

Kisses, m.

Read to me

1-5-2011

Read to me. Of course I could read to myself. But it’s what I prefer. I prefer to listen while you read. You know how I love it when you do read aloud. I’m not sure what it is but there’s something about the way a man's voice sounds. And there’s so much passion behind your words when you say them. Besides, I’d love to hear what you’ve been immersed in. If you won’t read it to me then tell me a little about this book. This book that captures your attention while we sit here and say nothing. Oh I see. Is it interesting? Yes, I have read it before. But I’m asking what you think. I want to know what the story is like through your eyes. How does it make you feel? Tell me… are you enjoying it? No, Honey. Shh. Not like that. Please stop. Just… That’s not the point. Keep reading the book. I don’t want to read it again. Although the idea of listening to you read it aloud sounds much better. Please, will you read it to me? The sound of your voice calms me. And it’s such a lovely story. Speak and let your lovely voice carry the words to my ears. And you can make yourself comfortable. Like? Well, you could lay your head on me and kick up your feet on the edge of the chair. Then I’ll rub your neck while you tell me the story. Why? So you can relax while you’re reading. Don’t you want to? I can see that you do. How? Lower the book. Now look me in the eye and tell me otherwise. See, you can’t. Darling, come on. You know you want to give in. Tell me a story. Please. Read to me?

Grapefruit

Eating alot of fruit and veggies is one of the few really great habits i picked up while I was a vegetarian that has stayed with me. Not to mention its amazing for healing and caring for your skin. I know when I eat a lot of grapefruit my complexion is absolutely radiant. Sometimes its fun to share your fruit and veggies...  Here's a new 300 from the next series. 

Do you share your fruit or veggies? 

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.

Grapefruit

“Let me.” He says.

Pulling a part off a piece of grapefruit and lifting it toward my mouth he indicates to open. Parting my lips slowly & letting the juice spill as I take a bite. Just as I swallow a full bite he leans in to steal a kiss and taste the sweetness citrus juice on my lips.

“Delicious. More?” He teases with a smile. Taking another piece he runs it along my mouth, letting the juice spill down my chin. With a finger he wipes away the juice and presses it toward my mouth. Gently sucking his finger until the taste is gone, I open to release and take in another slice of grapefruit. Without words he follows again with another kiss. Then places my hands on the fruit.

“My turn.” He indicates that he wants me to feed him. Pulling my hands he presses and guides them to pull apart the remaining portions of grapefruit. Much larger than the previous pieces, he uses his hands to help me. Lifting the fruit to his mouth I squeeze it, letting him drink the spilling juice. After it spills on his face he pulls it toward his mouth to suck on it then eat it from my hand. Roughly he takes me and kisses my face. The grapefruit pulp and juice spills on my face and into my mouth. Tasting his kiss, I release and pause before feeding him the remaining smaller piece.

“More?” he says voraciously wanting another kiss but I resist with a smile. Gently I slice another grapefruit in half and let him wait. Wanting him to beg for it, I wait. With a smile he wipes his mouth and sticks out his tongue. Carefully I seperate the juicy fruit into pieces.

“Let Me.” I tell him.