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Music today: Count Basie on the morning radio

Reading today: A newspaper story about how hard it is to be foster parents and how many they need

Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Saturday, Nov. 08, 2003 - 5:38 a.m.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

Vices calm you down

MMM, yes, I am not going to add onto that last tiny entry of despair at www fallibility.

recyclable kittyastrixes, copyright2003 Wench77
I shall make a new entry tonight altogether. Last night I was suddenly woken by a splotchsplotch wet water sound. I jumped out of bed, imagining all sorts of plumbing nightmares. Ahhh, it was kittyastrixes amusing herself by scooping pawfuls of water towards herself, out of the dog waterdish, onto the kitchen floor. She seemed a bit interrupted by my presence, but not at all disturbed. So i went back to sleep to splotch splotch splotch.

I decided that tonight I didnt have time to make a diary entry and THEN lie in bed on the pillows watching my hookah smoke, so I have rigged up the hookah next to the computer. It is on the floor, and i have managed to run the hose (tube, whatever) up the inside of my sweatshirt, which holds the mouthpiece right in place against my lower lip. So I can puff huge balls of roiling smoke towards the screen as I type. Lovely.

hookah smoke hookah smoke, copyright 2003 Wench77

A good day. I slept in til 4:20pm. Which was good for my body. But a bit disconcerting that the sunlit part of the day was shorter than my sleep. It was dead dark when I went to bed at 6:20 and dark at 4:30 when I rose. Rather sad. I did for a moment see sunlight golden against the tops of the buildings across the backyard,from bed through my window, moments before it set.

I think it is still another month before the days lengthen. I wish I could say this is not a new experience. But I would be lying. This happened in 1985. I remember. dear me.( hehe, not the short days, which of course happen every year, but rather me being in bed the whole lit part of it)

I unfortunately somehow displaced from my conscious thought the reality that I had for the past week slacked off on email inbox, snailmail, returning phone calls etc. It hit today. The list of contracts to consider, clients to call back, spam to delete, nonurgent emails to reply to. I didnt get out of the house til past 6 and ate "breakfast" at around 7pm. I of course did not get to the 6-9pm dom workshop at McGill. I also had no desire to rush out of the house to beat or be beaten at 9pm. I didnt get around to that until doggy had been walked a second time and 5 loads of laundry had successfully made the rounds through the machine.

Fortunately I was greeted by a door opening on at least 4 couples of women in various stages of undress with the sounds of implements greeting flesh. Very lovely. Quite a nice turnout and a few people I didnt expect to see, such as ChaosX, and new women as well. Very nice. The hostess with the mostess who has that particular Old Montreal loftspace was a sight worthy of pinup posters, arching her back against the light.

I only sat on the couch and admired for awhile, and as suddenly as I had arrived, the whole scene broke up and women ran en masse for their coats. Unfortunately I misunderstood the answer to my question "are we all leaving now, or is anyone sticking around?" The answer of the three or four people not heading for coats was "we're hungry". I answered "me too" and that seemed to be accepted as an agreement, which I obtusely took to be a "we are going to get something to eat". I say unfortunately misunderstood, as their answer actually meant "without you". So by the time they needed to explicitly say that I felt like a disowned dope. Drat and little fishes. I would have gladly left with no fuss if I had understood it was "over", but once I realized i had misunderstood I tried to explain the reason for my misunderstanding.

Mistake. That just brought about more clarifications that excluded me and made me feel like a whiner and overly verbose. damn my explaining mouth anyways. I then attempted to ascertain whether anyone was going out the next evening, and was told I should relax at home. aagh. and aagh again.

I realize that I was out too many times this past week (dressrehearsal last wed nite, flamenco thurs, halloween fri, operasinger sat, booklaunch mon, performance wed, flamenco thurs, flogging fri. But all of those were more like social obligations with preparations, performing necessary etc. Whereas I would like to just actually sit and veg WITH PEOPLE for a few moments. There is a endofseason clothing swap tomorrow at 2pm, but that is EARLY EARLY EARLY for me, and by the time it was over, there would once again be no day left. I must attend to such things as the bags of swiss chard, tomatoes, parsley etc languishing since their untimely removal from the garden 5 days ago. And I need to shop to deal with them... ie buy milk and butter to turn the swiss chard into soup for the freezer. Sat at 6pm will be too late.

Oh darn having the schedules of the world be so unforgiving and not jiving with mine.

That is one thing that has always played a major role in any relationship I have had. Things went well while schedules fit. Once I dated a woman who canvassed for Greenpeace until 10pm. Since at that point I massaged until 10pm, we were both ready and free for dinner and socializing at that time. Things didnt go well when she got a real job and wanted to eat at 6pm, and was falling asleep at 10.

Same with M latex. We both worked crazily until about 2am, and then would meet for munchies, movies and sexual shenanigans. And ob and I worked well on her crazy schedule. Often she didnt start work until 11am or 1pm, so we could do nightly movies and late morning bedplay. mmm.

The morning people and day people relationships have always been a disaster. They think I'm lazy and lucky. I spend a lot of time drawing them sleeping. Images of the sleepy head of my lovers on her pillow filled my sketchbook. It is quite sweet, but a bit lonely. And then they get to spend hours watching me comatose in the morning.

Hey, I found out that my first real girlfriend whom I thought had vanished into the wastelands of the world, has in fact moved directly across the street from my closest friend, Yawn, out in the wooded boonies. Life is just too weird. She has not disappeared, but rather "rejoined" my immediate life, and told me I must drop by for a visit the next time I see him.

oooooo... morning radio has begun. The announcers seem to change at 6am, and go from laidback to ridiculously peppy. This one is talking about needing a nosetrimmer. (and just mentioned a friend who as he ages is getting eyebrows that look like hamsters). Oh my he just announced highs of -1C. -5 now. Let's hope it is warmer than that where the bags of swiss chard are resting underneath the bush in the front yard. The weather has beaten me to the freezer.

mmm, i had many things to say today. But all the exciting news items, strange things i've read, and my masses of opinions seem to have vanished into hookah smoke.

Oh yes, I was going to speculate about vices. I was thinking the other night how nice it is that ob has introduced me to the vices of smoking and drinking. How in our society it seems generally accepted to be more adult to have vices. Depending on the circles one hangs in, the news that one does not drink nor smoke seem to be greeted with derision and a general feeling of "what do you want, milk and cookies?". Of course it is acceptable to not drink if you are a recovered alcoholic. Or if you were a drug addict at some point in the past. Past extravagances pay your way into the adult majority who leave behind the goody twoshoes children. Think of it. Adults go to bars, bring wine to dinner, have an aperitif, a porto, a martini. They have hangovers and discuss how hard it was to stop smoking. It never seems the same to show up for dinner with a bottle of grape juice.

Fortunately when I discovered the sm scene I discovered people who do power plays and endorphins instead of beer and pot. Indeed there are segments of society who actually acknowlege that it may be MORE adult to not need to get drunk and stoned to have a good time. How refreshing. (ironically now that i want to share the hookah, few of my friends smoke!.. or only do cigars... another "adult" vice... which unfortunately stinks. Said cigar smoking friend said that the hookah is the tisane (herbal tea) of smoking. poop and fart on him. Imported Cuban cigars go to hell, my hookah tobacco is brought in from the United Arab Emirates via Dearborn Michigan)

But the part of me that was ostracised as a teenager for not partaking rejoices in having these simple vices.

Hey, have you ever noticed that the people who seem to be calm in the face of annoying behaviour by others, who smile through inanities and injustices, all seem to have many private vices.. they smoke hash and pot, drink alcohol etc. I am sure there is a connection. Indeed after two or three Coronas and a hookah, I feel buzzed enough I really could care less. Therein lies the difference between my annoying reactions to annoyances and their calm dismissal of same. Even a good beating puts you in lala land, where you just regard those arguing over there as if they were ducks quacking. My brother was nicknamed the hashbeast, and though he was totally as opinionated as I, he was loved by all as socially calm and friendly.

hmm.

Well, I did think to put here the links to a very disturbing site about public lynchings in the past in the US which I spent about an hour looking through last night. But given my hookah induced mood, I shant spoil the gist of this entry by exposing you to that before I sign off. Lucky you. That will be tomorrow.

mmm. When you sleep until 4pm, you are not sleepy yet at 6am. funny thing.

Well, to end with (aagh, the announcer is now humming "chucky's in love"... which my highschool friends used to hum to me since I had a crush on one Charles Yurkoski who played drums and missed alot of school. I always was attracted to the problem ones who seemed quiet and shy.)... to end with, I shall plug the diary of starzero, which I discovered tonight via sleepyzoe. I like his writing and can identify with his love-hate relationship towards love and his ex.

Finally, I can say that lemon added to the hookah water before smoking the strawberry tobacco is interesting. Not my fave, but a nice sort of summery touch.

Finished blah blah blah. Goodnight to me, dawench. yeah, hugs to me, and coziness in bed alone.

Here is my horoscope for Friday, November 7:
Music and color belong at the heart of your day. Although you're fun to have around, there's no guarantee that you'll stay in one place. Free spirits and free agents are all over the map.

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009

 

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