Night Song – Because Sometimes I Feel Purple

And today was one of those days. When that happens, I often sit down and pretend like I know how to write, mostly reviews, but there are times I get a little poetic and when I do, things like this come out. :) You don’t have to read it. I’m just leaving it here for safe keeping, and now I’m heading for the hills. :-P


tumblr_lmyxocMas31qi0mnqo1_500Night sounds drift through a thin curtain of decomposing light, light that has been tamed and is now shrouded within the dusky gray of the softening day. A symphony of crickets accompanied by the sibilant sound of leaves slipping one against the other carries itself in through the open windows and over the gossamer fabric that plays lazily on a fickle breeze, sounds that land without effort, stroking quiet fingers along and over the landscapes of the two bodies entwined in the pale cool sheets, laying a trail of gooseflesh beneath the sheen of sweat that’s testament to the mellowing of the heated day.

The room glows sepia with the flicker of a dozen candles, adding the scents of cinnamon and clove to the heady blend of lilac and summer hovering around and over them, skin shimmering in a mix of clean exertion and mellow flame where it touches the men in the most intimate way, illuminating a path to the places they will each welcome the stroke of a tongue, a soft kiss, a sharp nip to tender flesh, each laying claim to the body beneath as they battle for the lead in this primal dance.

The silken whisper of skin against skin, soft words spoken on sighs—yes, more, right there, oh God…yes. Please!—the rasp of facial hair as a kiss deepens into something frantic, something frenzied that demands rather than asks permission, each breath a testament to two lives that have somehow become one, tongues dueling not with words but with lust and love and need and want. It is a battle, this desire to take, to possess, to each overwhelm the other in a press of flesh and a joining of bodies at a place where hearts collide.

A long, low lover’s moan harmonizes with the night chorus, a bass vibrato that is part pain, part pleasure, and resonates like the desperate prayer of a man seeking salvation from the only one who can offer him redemption. Face to face, touch to touch, eyes seeking and finding perfection, the two become one, sharing breaths and sighs in an endless confession, hips rocking in a synchronous rhythm both ancient and timeless; silken steel sheathed in molten heat fanning flames long held in check, now set to a steady burn that threatens to consume them the nearer they come to catching the electric current humming through their veins and buzzing along every nerve, beginning somewhere deep and unknown and primitive, then radiating outward like a pebble that’s broken the smooth surface of a quiet pond, tight rings of energy growing wider as they flow ever outward from the center until they simply no longer are…

And then the world explodes in a chorus of light and color. The ambient noises that had once surrounded them are now swallowed in a litany of cries and moans and hot, heavy breaths that carry promises of forever, and words that offer praise and give meaning to that small and simple one—Love. They are each wrapped tight around the other, Yin-Yang, neither knowing where they begin and end, neither wanting to be the first to let go, neither willing to end what they’d begun, both certain that forever is built upon single moments such as this.

Ramblings, Videos

What Are You Thankful For? Besides Books, I Mean…

Was November kind of an insane month, or is it just me? Not who’s insane (debatable), I mean, but who thinks the month has been crazy?

I’m going to be completely honest here; I’m kind of glad it’s almost over, but it’s pretty much my fault for spending too much time on Facebook watching people fight over their political beliefs. It was kinda nutty, wasn’t it? But you just have to kind of laugh it off because, let’s face it, the people who can’t laugh about it are the ones who end up going postal…or threaten to secede from the Union…whatever. So laugh, darn it! Just laugh. We’re starting to take ourselves way too seriously, if you ask me, and all this anger going around is making people say stuff that hasn’t been publicly acceptable since about the middle of the 20th century, except it sounds worse now because we should all know better.

So, here we are, on this day in the month when we all are supposed to remember to give ourselves a mental “DOH!” and offer thanks for all the things in life we’re grateful for, my attitude of gratitude pretty much all boils down to one all-encompassing thing:

I’m just grateful for each new day.

That doesn’t sound like I have much to be thankful for, does it? Well, lemme ‘splain. No, there is too much. Lemme sum up. (Sorry, this moment brought to you by the Princess Bride.) :)

Years ago, I read the book The Kite Runner by Kahled Hosseini. It was brilliantly written, one of those books that stuck with me long after I’d finished reading it, but there was one passage in particular that I remember over and above any other in the novel. It’s near the beginning of the book, when the boy, Amir, is talking to his father about sin. Baba says something to his son that I found so profound I couldn’t forget it if I tried, and whether or not you agree with him, you’ve got to admit the man makes an interesting point.

There is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing.

So, what does this have to do with being thankful? Not a damn thing. :-D But it’s not the message itself as much as the nuance of the message that leads me to my point.

I do have so many things to be thankful for, don’t get me wrong, but for me, all of those gifts hinge on a single promise, (the principle of “one” in Baba’s message – the fulcrum around which everything else revolves) and that’s each new day that I’m offered. Every other gift in my life is just a variation and a result of what I do with each twenty-four hours I’m given; time I try very hard not to take for granted, time I use to try to make me a better person – a better example to my little people, a better friend, a more compassionate person. Each new day offers the opportunity to change and to be changed by whatever it has in store for me, to be kind, to love and to be loved in return. None of those things would be possible without the chance to build – or to sometimes just wipe the slate clean and start over again – on the foundation of a new day. That’s all. I don’t take it for granted, even for a moment, because my days come standard with family, friends, health (so far!), books and books and more books. :-D And yes, there has been a lot of sadness in this year for me too, but even that has been an opportunity for me to try and find more things to be appreciative of. So, really, there’s so much to be grateful for on a daily basis that it’s just easier to be grateful for my days than to try and enumerate everything in them for which I give thanks. And that, as they say, is that.

Oh! Wait, I’m also thankful we love to look at beautiful men together too! Every day. Yeah. :-D

::bows:: I give many thanks for Levi Poulter and Paul Francis, and those gorgeous Andrew Christian boys, don’t you? AMEN!

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who’re celebrating. To those who aren’t, well, just go ahead and join in by eating yourself into a food coma! You’ll fit right in. :-D


The Great Chik-Fil-A Debate

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not an activist, I’m a pacifist, and I believe firmly in the concept of “live and let live”. I’ll be me, you be you, and hopefully—not as Republicans or Democrats, not as Protestants, Catholics, Buddhists, Muslims, Wiccans, Agnostics, or Atheists, not as men or women—but as human beings, we’ll find a common ground on which to meet and to celebrate our individuality. It’s not that I don’t have strong opinions about certain subjects, but more a case of believing that my opinions are my own and really shouldn’t matter to anyone else because what you think counts just as much, if not more so, than what I think. But it’s this sense of self-importance and self-righteousness and the grandiose belief that what some people believe is more legitimate than what others do that seems to be getting in the way of us behaving compassionately toward one another, and honestly, it makes me worry about the state of the human condition.

Let me be the first to acknowledge that I, in no way, claim to be without more than a few character blemishes. I sometimes forget the “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” rule, but I also grew up believing in the idea of treating others the way that I want to be treated, judging not lest I be judged, casting the first stone only if I myself be without sin, and that since we ALL are supposedly made in His image but fall short in His sight that none of us is without sin. That makes perfect sense to me because none of us is perfect, so when Dan Cathy says, “I think we are inviting God’s judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at him and say we know better than you as to what constitutes a marriage,” it makes me wonder if he is as sinless as he’d like us to believe, and if so, then why should he be so fearful of that judgment? Aren’t Christians supposed to welcome judgment day as their recognition and reward for living a spotless life? I would think it would behoove him to be more fearful of his bigotry than of a man and woman’s right to marry whom they love, because God’s judgment is a blanket judgment, and I don’t know if He would appreciate Dan Cathy taking a single edict from a book written by mortal men to discriminate while at the same time completely disregarding the biblical principle of loving thy neighbor as thyself. Perhaps Mr. Cathy should reread the Old Testament definition of marriage and see how “non-traditionally” God viewed marriage in the beginning. Hm…maybe that’s called evolution, and if that’s so, isn’t it possible the definition of marriage is yet again evolving?

Perhaps Mr. Cathy should also familiarize himself with the Bible’s thoughts on divorce, then examine why nearly half of all first marriages, nearly two-thirds of second marriages, and nearly three-fourths of third marriages end. Then maybe he should research how many petitions for divorce cite “irreconcilable differences” as the reason for the dissolution of the marriage. Nowhere in the Bible does it say “we grew apart” is a valid excuse for divorce. Hm…maybe divorce has evolved too. It certainly seems to have departed from “God’s plan” for marriage between a man and a woman. Maybe we need to give someone else the opportunity to get it right.

I don’t deny Mr. Cathy’s right to speak his mind. If the First Amendment didn’t exist, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to post this rebuttal. But what I do deny is his right to hide behind that amendment and to be outraged that he’s receiving backlash for his inflammatory and prejudicial remarks. What he said is no more politically or socially correct than if he’d come out and said he was against interracial marriage. Discrimination is discrimination, regardless of where that belief stems from and regardless of how much he couches it in his righteousness. His remarks may be based in the belief in his God, but it also stands firmly in the disregard of the fact that his remarks have marginalized an entire segment of His children who reportedly were made in His image.

If Mr. Cathy is truly living a moral and upstanding life based on God’s word, then he cannot be a hypocrite and use parts and parcels of that word to support his homophobia while ignoring the rest of it because it contradicts and invalidates that intolerance. It doesn’t work that way. Or at least it’s not supposed to.

This has become quite a divisive subject within a very devout segment of my own family, and to them I say this: I’ve been married for twenty-one years, have three children, and fail miserably to see how who someone else loves and wants to spend the rest of their lives with will undermine my own marriage or my family’s values. The only person with the power to destroy what I’ve spent almost half my life building is me, and the day that anyone tries to tell me that I will be condemned to hell because I show others compassion is the day that I say you keep to your God and I’ll keep to mine, and I’ll just continue to love you in spite of how ashamed you are of me and my beliefs.