Profound words of enlightenment or inspiration, or maybe something is stirring.
Stevie B on the mix and the lyrics…. “and my heart might kick in”…..and “love without a trace” taste like the tinny taste of tobacco and sweat soaking into my striped knit. I have been worshipping, alone, at the altar of dance this fantastic Monday. YES dear, alone, sober, and on the terracotta tiles of my second floor apartment in Sandown. At the speed, no pun intended, at which i like to dance, which I might add is enough to give most a coronary bypass and without an amphetamine fix is needless to say a flash in the pan moment of gyrating spiritual orgasmic movement. MY HEART PULSATES IN TEARS OF ECSTATIC RELIEF….EVEN IF IT’S JUST THE SOLITARY MONDAY MOMENT BLISS.
<♢ As soon as I can I will post a vid of my groove, if you like, although the traffic on Rivonia is getting a great Monday show. The issue is that my Samsung is both music player and video recorder and can’t be done simultaneously….working on it ♢>
With my mini ArT collection on the walls I just had to sweat it out in my home celebrating the moment. AND; I HOPE WITH EVERY VEIN IN MY BODY IT IS A PERMANENT ONE…..EVEN FOR A LONG WHILE WILL DO. It is darn hard getting pics exactly level and spaced evenly. Especially if, like myself, one is hardly a professional handyman. (and I just don’t know any willing straight friend who might hang the pics for me…..topless of course….I mean what are dreams for if not to be had!)
Loving DIY, somehow daaaaarling, just doesn’t translate into getting it purrrrfect first time.
I HATE UNNECCESARY HOLES IN WALLS.
With holes in my heart I have to go through the, albeit necessary, arduous interview at the psychologist today. Hopefully something will happen and love will find its trace and jumpstart my ghost town heart.
I know it seems that I may have a negative point of view; I don’t really. It’s a funny thing; I can spend time interviewing clients regarding their personal expression regarding their hair but I hate people digging into the recess of my mildly colourful mind.
THE WAY I ACTUALLY FEEL IS….I WONDER IF I HAD TO ARRIVE WITH MY BIRTHDAY SUITE ON AND MY PENCHANT FOR SHIBARI ROPE ART; BOUND UP; WHAT WOULD THEY SAY?
I might end up straight in ‘Groendakkies’.
Look, don’t get hysterical love….my fascination with Shibari has more to do with the willingness to surrender than actually being tied up like a deboned stuffed duck parcel. So let’s not get all distracted by the imagery sweetie.
THE BOTTOM LINE IS SIMPLY THIS….
I have been zombie-like since 2012. God alone knows how I managed to get through a great relationship, win Hairstylist of the Year and start my fab little business. Nevermind hold onto some remnants of a client base all the while weathering the storm with the angst of unsettling political issues.
FOR THE RECORD…..AND I AM SERIOUS….ARE US FAIR SKINNED MORTALS REALLY THAT HATED AND WISHED OUT OF THIS SENSATIONAL LAND CALLED HOME?
On that note with my dollop of double whipped cream leaving a skin on my ice-cold coffee and profoundly appropriate timing Adele’s ‘Hello’ kicks in and my blog ends.
<♢a new interpretation….me gearing up for today’s analytics to run into me ♢>
Hello, it’s me
I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet
To go over everything
They say that time’s supposed to heal ya
But I ain’t done much healing
Hello, can you hear me?
I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be
When we were younger and free
I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet
There’s such a difference between us
And a million miles
Hello from the other side
I must have called a thousand times
To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home
Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried
To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore
●♤ BUT IT DOES ♤●
So as the tobacco trail dances past my silver Touch Lamp, I put to bed the dark complexity (till later) of MOI and stretch myself to get all DORA THE DOMESTIC GODDESS on myself. And, still pondering the irony of a stranger wanting to be called DADDY whilst lecturing me on the ‘inappropriateness’ of guys wearing eyeliner.
BUT DAAAAARLING IT’S YVES SAINT LAURENT.
needless to say that the chance meeting of said stranger is wrecked and hidden below devouring rocky seas.
AND THE ZARA TOBACCO COLLECTION IS AAAAAAALL IT SAYS IT IS…rich/warm/addictive….a must try!!!!
STAY YOUR AMAZING SELF!!
• AJB •