Words

It's her words.

They melt me.

Like a candle that is nothing but a reflective liquid below a dancing flame.

Those words.

The simple sounds.

Like a melody only I can hear through all of the noise that surrounds us.

Sweet words.

What they mean.

A deep meaning that stirs so much more than the letters that possess them.

Sweet, simple words that melt me.

...and I'm bored

Hmm...what to type about?

Winter is deadly boring around here. Really, cabin fever does exist. We had a bit of snow this past week and had two fun days of playing in it but now its just back to freezing cold. Hmph.

I think the winter time makes me miss home so much more than any other season. South Florida is lucky to get maybe five days of really cold weather but the rest of the year, you can go and hang out at the beach with not even a sweater. Swimming is another story.

Valentines Day, yes. We aren't into the bought gifts thing. We take the day and make it just a "together" day and then give each other cards. Sometimes we make a little something for the other...which was the case this year.

J did something that was really super sweet, something I really didn't expect. She went out and bought boxes of those little Valentine's cards that kids give out in school. She wrote a special memory that we shared on each and every one of those little cards and stuck them in a heart shaped bag. It took me almost an hour to read them all and some had me laughing while others brought tears to my eyes. We have a lot of memories over these past nine years and it was an amazing ride reading her perspective on them all.

I got her a card and on every blank part of the card, I wrote something that I loved about her. Yeah, it took her a while to read...I wrote really small. The smile and kiss she gave me was priceless. I also sketched an old picture of us from back when we first met. She loved it but I think my idea fell short this year. Next year, I plan to top her bag of memories idea ten fold.

I read my horoscope today...something I don't do very often. I won't explain why but anyway...

It kind of shocked me. It was pretty accurate about what is going on inside me and around me. Kind of scary if I really think about it. I think it might be best if I just forget I read it.

Well, it might be boring around here but I still haven't been posting much in here. Uh...because its boring. There is absolutely nothing blog worthy going on around here. I think I might just have to go out and find some trouble to get into. Yeah...trouble...that sounds more like me.

Seeing red in the white

The world around me slowly turned to white. She loves the snow as much as I do. And her eyes...the brightest blue...when she smiles took my breath away. Again.

I have to apologize. I hardly ever get angry. Maybe that is a mistake on my part. But today, all the pent up anger I have toward them simmered dangerously in my eyes, in my movements, and just on the tip of my tongue. She knew. She saw it, read it, felt it. Even through my denials.

"I've never seen you like this," she says. And I knew that it was no use trying to control it any longer.
I spoke the truth of my hate and watched as she shook and the sadness took over her eyes. But then she smiled and whispered, "I love you."

Words to live by. Words I live by.

Surrender

In the silence, its cold.
Welcomed weight of the blanket and a warm bed.
Not quite the warmth I need.
Then she touched me.
Hands of ice quickly thawed.

From within her, somehow she ignites the heat of the sun.
Simple whispers. A simple touch.
Closer to me, my heart, my soul.
"I don't want you to leave," tickles my ear.
Its not what I want either but I tell her, "Tonight, I'm here. With you."

I surrender.

Little things

I don't write much about my relationship with J in here. She wouldn't like it. And out of my respect and love for her, I cannot write about us. "Our relationship is ours," she says. "I don't want the world to read about it and twist it around to fit in their heads."

I can understand that and I respect that. But sometimes, I just want to tell the world what its like to be loved by her. So, in little glimpses and obscure writings, I share the good stuff. And honestly, there never is any bad stuff.

Right now, I'm sick. I'm not the kind of person who needs to be taken care of when I'm sick. I'd rather everyone just leave me alone. J knows this better than anyone. But...

She's good...real good. She has been taking care of me in my sickness and I didn't even realize it until now. She has been so discrete in her care that it almost got by me.

Its the little things that she says or does. Its like subliminal suggestions, physical and mental. I know she doesn't think that I'm onto her yet and I'm not going to stop her. Because, even though I stubbornly want to take care of myself, she needs to feel like she is taking care of me. I know this.

She is so damn cute. And when I get better, I'll let her know that I knew exactly what she was doing...and I will let her know how grateful I was that she did it.

Live and die

I took her to a hockey game where we found 80 dollars and then out to show her Fort Lauderdale, Speed style. We talked by the ocean and walked the pier. We witnessed a stingray doing a ballet below us. But still, that night, we just talked until the sun came up.

Our time was short, or so we thought. I took her to dinner where we tossed peanut shells at each other and almost got kicked out. She met my brother (which didn't go so well) and ended up on the seawall behind my house.

It started as a slow dance, both of us being careful not to cross the imaginary lines too fast. Her hands, her body felt so good against mine. The shadow of her smile illuminated in the torch light. Those lips, I wanted them. I wanted them in places all over my body.

And then they touched the skin of my neck. My pulse jumped below them. And then her tongue, the warmth, the electric current that shot straight to my center. "We shouldn't do this standing up," she whispered. With her hand in mine, I led her to my room where the slow dance resumed against the wall, the door, on my bed.

I remember thinking, so this is how it is supposed to feel.

I woke up early and called the airline. I was keeping her for as long as she could stay.

It has been nine years, nine years today. Nine of the best years of my life. I've never loved like this before. And this morning, her kiss and the words from her lips - "Thank you." and "I love you so much." - filled me.
She is love...the love I live for and the love I'd die for.
"I don't breathe another lover."

Happy anniversary baby!

becomes us

We met in a chat room. We were both looking for musicians for projects we were working on. We clicked and decided that we needed to jam.

I was very unhappily married at the time. We were separated but still living in the same house. It was a big house. He had his half and I had mine. We still worked together since the business was OUR business and we were both damn good at it. But things between us sucked.

I bought her a plane ticket, told her just to bring herself because I had all the music gear she could possibly need and we'd audition each other. Me to join her band (SP) and her to be a writing partner. I remember she was nervous about the flight...she had never been in a plane before.

At the airport, I waited at the gate excited to be meeting my possible future band mate. As the time got closer, I got more nervous. Why? I kept asking myself. Its just music. But then she came down the hall. She had a Mohawk and was wearing an army jacket. My first thought was that she was fucking hot. She didn't see me and just as she was about to walk past, I reached out and grabbed her, giving her a huge hug. I knew in that embrace that we would be so much more.

We spent the entire night in the music room trying to impress each other or something with our knowledge and talent. She said that I stole her heart when I sang and played "Crimson and Clover" Joan style. And she knew her heart was mine to keep when I played "Colorful Sweet," one of my originals. As confused as I was at the time, I know that I fell in love with her when she played "Mayonaise" and she sealed it for me when we jammed to "When I Come Around." It was the look in her eyes, the quick of her lips, the way she watched me as I watched her, and that slight sway to a rhythm only we could hear.

But like I said, I was confused. And that night, I gave her a choice. She could crash out in the music room or crash out in my room with me. She chose my room but...BUT...we kept our hands to ourselves. Honestly.

Wonderful Twist

We cruised down the twisting road to the picture show. Where the Wild Things Are swam through our eyes to the part of the brain that says, "Hmmm." Her hand warmed my leg while my imagination took us on a ride. And the sounds she made when she tried to keep quiet...

Back down the twisting road, we stopped for an icy treat. Rainbow sprinkles and chocolate covered strawberries and a brain freeze that could battle the worst of migraines. An overheard conversation of a little girl upset that the dance was cancelled -dressed as the dark princess with her black lips and a black rose.

Once again, to the twisting road. Burgundy brushed clouds with a midnight blue backdrop. Tiny dots of white started to appear. And I sang to her...cinematic love truck...and she held my hand...like nothings gonna stop us.

Up the dirt drive, guided by the moonlight. One foot on the steps and she pulled me back, held me to her. "Thank you for a wonderful night," she whispered against my lips.

"Wonderful," I whispered back, finally getting a taste of those chocolate covered strawberries.

Sister

A quick message for my sister...the only family member I trust to read this. (Please pause the player and listen. Thanks.)

Because the words just aren't enough:




I love you...please go to the doctor...two months is too long.

Thoughts/Things

I love my girl, I really do. AND she knows better than anyone else that thoughts are things in my world. You know, the whole you think it, so be it. Words I live by.

So this morning (note to the wise...I'm no good in the morning and a little on the grumpy side) she is getting ready to leave. She is going with her aunt to take her grandmother grocery shopping. The time: 10:30am = me in a really weird mood since I was woke up by my mom on the phone trying to get me to talk to my brother because...well if you didn't know by now, I am the doctor. (That is a post that will probably end up here later today.) On to my girl...

I'm standing in the bathroom wondering why my eyes are so damn red and J walks up to the doorway, puts both hands on the door frame and starts staring at her feet. She had asked me three times if I wanted to ride with her but I declined because its easier to write without distractions and J is a major distraction in every good way you can think of.

So she is standing there and without looking up at me, she says, "Tell me I'm silly."

Reminder: mornings = me...no good. I look at her like she's silly.

She looks up with a childish grin, the one that tells me she's embarrassed. "Just tell me I'm silly."

Its obvious that something is bothering her so I block out all my grumpiness and pull her into my arms. "What is it?" I asked as nice as I could.

"Just tell me I'm silly."

Now, I asked a direct question which I believed deserved a direct answer (told you I was grumpy) and I almost got mad BUT I didn't. I went with option two. "You're silly, baby. What's wrong?"

Remember...thoughts are things. And this is what she put in my head: She tells me that for the past month or two she has been getting a really bad feeling every time she is asked to go somewhere with someone else without me. She doesn't want to be in a car with someone else driving. So I told her the logical thing that popped into my brilliant brain, "Ask aunt if you can drive. I'm sure she won't mind."

It was good idea and it helped her feel better but she had to tell me the rest of what she was feeling. And I, of course, listened. She told me it started back when she was going to ride with her brother and his girlfriend to the store. They were fighting and she made them stop the car in the driveway and let her out because she kept picturing them fighting and getting in an accident.

Okay...so now I know that she is afraid to leave with someone else because she fears they will get in an accident while they are driving. Thoughts are things and fear is a bad thought/feeling. The reason I have no fear is because what you think about, you bring about and so on.

And then she says as I'm holding her and telling her that I love her, "I just don't want to leave you."

She's breaking my heart. *Insider info: What she means is that she doesn't want to get dead and leave me.

She asks me again if I want to ride with her and (I know this is going to make me look bad) I declined again. I still had to walk the dogs and her aunt was already waiting on her and I was still feeling grumpy and half of what J had said was still settling in my brain and...okay, I have every excuse that there is.

But I did tell her, "Baby, when you get to your aunts and if you still feel bad, call me to let me know you are coming to get me. I'll go with you if you feel you need me to go." So I wasn't mean or anything.

Kisses, hugs, I love you. She's out the door. I get the dogs a few minutes later and take them outside AND I hear sirens and they stop down in front of our house somewhere (I couldn't see through all the damn trees) and I have no vehicle (the driveway is over a quarter mile long and pretty steep) and J has no cell phone. I search for the aunts number and the grandmother's number and call. No answer.

Now I am feeling like shit because I didn't go when I knew she wanted me to. I deserve it. But I can't let her fear get to me. I have to believe that she is fine and she is safe because if I start thinking the other way, I will drive myself nuts. (Which I already am since I'm writing all this.) Fuck!

Altered State

I was all that she needed and she needed so much.
Warm skin to skin and an understanding that this is where complete comes from.
The arch of her back, the hand in my hair, my name on her lips, the taste of her on mine.
She was all that I needed but I wanted so much.
Her breaths turned to screams and her grip turned to blood.
I gave her all that she wanted, as much as I could.
Altered state. Feeling everything so liquid.
My lips to hers and the knowing that this is where forever is from.
In her. In me.
When I love you isn't enough.

Delicate Life

Forget all about all those things I said I would be posting about (even though I never explained what they were) because I need to write a little bit about my sister.

In mid June of 1987, my dad and his wife (not my mom) rushed to the hospital. His wife was having complications with her pregnancy. I, the oldest of us all at the young age of 11, was left to watch my younger brother and my two younger step-sisters. We were scared because we knew that if the baby came on that night, she would be almost two months early.

Step-mom was real sick and they decided to keep her in the hospital. Finally, at the end of June, our sister was born. She was small but the doctors said she was a fighter...if they only knew how true their words were. We got to see pictures because the doctors had to keep her for a while. Dad said that because we were her sisters and brother, that we would get to name the newest member of our family.

We all wrote down a series of names...one favorite was Shit Head (dad's contribution)...and gave the list to Dad. He took it to the hospital and step-mom read over the list. She picked one and Dad agreed. They called us up to tell us the news. I was more than shocked to find out that they picked the name I had wrote. More than that, I was kind of honored.

So Lisa got to come home about a month later. She was strong and beautiful and Dad said she looked just like me. She was the coolest thing to all of us kids. We spent the entire rest of the summer in the house watching her constantly. We were afraid that if we left her side, we would miss a cool new sound or facial expression she would make.

But then, summer ended and me and bro had to go back home to Mom's and go back to school. We rarely got to see her after that. Christmas and a few weekends here and there. And every time we did see her, it seemed that she had grown so much more than the time we saw her last.

Newborn was suddenly 4. I was tangled in my out of control life and my brother was entering the gang scene. Lisa would call our house and if we weren't there, she would talk to our mom. Whether it was us or Mom, the conversation was always the same. Lisa would tell us how she always had a stomach ache, how she would get sick, and how she would fall down a lot.

We had known that Dad had been taking her to the doctor for these problems but the doctors were stumped. Six months and countless "lets try this" remedies and she was still sick and seemed to be getting worse. Finally, one doctor got smart and sent her for a brain scan.

Everything went in fast forward from there. She was rushed to the best children's hospital in Florida, Miami Children's Hospital, because she was in need of emergency surgery to remove a tumor in her four year old little head that was the size of a grapefruit. Yes...that big.

Mom drove Bro and I down there because we had to give blood in case...just in case they needed it.
The surgery took hours but it seemed like days but sometime in the middle of the night, the doctors walked in to the waiting room where our entire family...I mean everyone...waited on the edge of our seats.

The surgery was a success, he said, and they got the entire tumor removed. We had to wait for the tests to find out if it was cancer. But then he said something that I don't think any of us believed. "She might not know who you are when you see her. She will have to learn to talk and walk again and there is a possibility that she might never do either ever again. She's not going to be the same."

Bullshit, I thought. Not my little sister. She's a fighter and she's strong. You'll see, I told the doctor. I think he brushed me off thinking I was just some crazy teenager with a bad attitude and a loud mouth. But I knew my sister...he had no idea.

Bro and I and many of our family members spent three weeks in that waiting room. We slept there, ate there, and took drive-by-trucker baths in the sinks. The outcome was that there was no cancer, and we were relieved, but she still wasn't awake long enough to see what the effects of the surgery were.

Lisa loved to hear me sing. Her favorite song for me to sing was "Sweet Child of Mine," by Guns and Roses. So when it was my turn to sit with her during the day, I would sit there holding her little hand and sing it to her until I couldn't sing anymore.

I had just finished the song for the fourth time and was taking a break because my throat was sore. I started to get up and let go of her hand but she gripped my fingers so hard it almost brought me to my knees. "Again," she demanded. "Again."

Its hard to sing when you are crying but I pulled it off and when I finished she sat up in her bed and said, "I want a Big Mac."
She had the entire room laughing through their tears as she demanded all these silly things from all of us. She was a little mean but cute as hell. And I turned around and smiled at that doctor. "I told you."

Except for the shaved head and the new strength (from steroids they had to give her for the swelling), you would have never known there was ever anything wrong with her. When they finally let her go home, she would call me from time to time and make me sing so she could fall asleep. Her hair grew back and it covered the scars. She was back to her normal self in the blink of an eye.

Lisa just turned 22. She's married and has a beautiful daughter who turned one this year. Dad says she is just like me in so many ways that we should have been twins. Yeah, I'm proud of that. She calls me every chance she gets and we have our song that thankfully she no longer makes me sing (at least not every time we talk) but we do laugh about it. I'm proud of her and everything she has accomplished her life so far. Most of all, I'm proud to say she's my sister.

And when she calls me and says, "I'm so sorry to call you up and just vent." I tell her, "Don't worry about it. That's what sisters are for." I'll laugh and then she'll tell me, "You are the only one who can make me feel better, the only one I can talk to about this world of complications that I call life."

And I tell her, "I will always be here for you, no matter what. Even if its just to sing you that damn song."
She'll say, "See, I feel better already."

This is the message she sent me on facebook after I had missed her call and wrote to her giving her my new cell number: "Love you and miss you too...I hope all is well. I hope to talk to you soon...I really need my sister to talk to right now. TTYL"

And after we talked she sent this: "Thanks...I am glad that I got to hear you. It has been so long since I spoke to you. I just felt better being able to talk to you. Thanks again....Love you."

I thank God everyday that my little sister, the one I almost lost at the young age of four, is able to call me up and unload her problems whenever she needs to...even if I have to sing that damn song.

Life is too short...Live it, dream it, BE IT!

Love like that

There are a few things I wanted to write about and, for the past two hours or so, I have been trying to figure out if I should just write them all together in one post or split them up. But then...I somehow walked into this:

A little background first...J's mother passed away 5 years ago. She was an amazing woman that everyone loved. I miss her but I know that J and Mick miss her more than I could ever imagine.

Mick, J's dad, has been dating. He's recently single again since his girlfriend broke up with him about a month ago. We live in a very small town where everyone knows everyone and he's been struggling to find a single woman to date. So we signed him up for a few of those online dating sites. It's funny because, since this is such a small town, the women that he is finding on these sites, he actually knows. And the conversation I walked in on was between him and J about these women.

Mick: When she was young (one of the women he saw on the site) she was built. Built like a brick house. If her face was a little bit better she would have been...whoa!

J: (laughing at her fathers choice of words.) I can't picture that.

Mick: Well, now. Back then, I was hot. I had long hair, all muscles. I wore the tank tops and women couldn't resist my blue eyes. (Note: He does have some beautiful eyes. Lucky for me, J inherited them.) I worked down at the mill. And I would hang out with all those girls, flirting.

He gave us detailed recounts of what these women looked like when he was a kid.

Mick: And your momma. I think she got to me the most because she would act like she wasn't interested in me.

Me: She played you.

J: Momma played you and you fell for it.

Mick: (laughing) She did. I know she did. She would talk about some boy at school and it would just burn me up. And she wouldn't act interested in me when all the other girls were throwing themselves at me. That just made me want her more.

J: Mom pulled your strings. She knew what she was doing.

Mick: She did. And I believe that it was the best thing that could have happened. I fell for her. And I'm glad I did. She was the best one. The best one for me.

He went on to tell us how certain family members were against them dating. Mick was a city boy and they didn't like it much. And how one of J's mom's older sisters helped convince everyone that they should be together.

My parents, they were divorced when I was little. I can't really remember any happy times between them. J's parents...married and as much in love the day she passed away as they were when they were just teenagers. They were married for more than twenty-five years.

And he still loves her.

*squint*

Today I am...

completely incomplete...

perfectly imperfect...

dreaming with my eyes wide open...

satisfyingly unsatisfied...

and J loves me.

What more can I say

Set the Scene

I'm sitting at the desk and J and I are discussing our plans for the very near future (an hour from now actually because its her birthday and I have one more present for her) **use your own dirty mind**and she leans over to give me one of those supersoftsweetsexy kisses and of course my hand goes directly to her ass.

Me: Baby, your ass is wet?

J: Because that is where I dried off my hands after I washed them.

Hmmm...

To J..."And deep within I'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you"

Happy birthday baby! I loved spending every second of this day with you.

My love for you is colossal...and I know you know exactly what I mean!

No worries

A beautiful night. Sitting on the steps. Her arms around me tight as she whispers how everything will be okay.
Chocolate ice cream and the fresh mountain air. A million stars decorate the sky. So complete.
Distance sounds. The wind in the trees. The flow of the creek and a low roar of a car on 115.
Her laughter tickles. Her words fill me with warmth. Her touch is soothing. And I am safe there in her arms.
She never fails to amaze me. I think she knows me better than I know myself.

Fade

My ex never once told me that I was beautiful. Actually, I don't remember ex ever saying one nice thing to me the entire time we were together. But ex was good with the words when ex wanted me to go out with him.

I spent twelve years being told I was fat (I weighed 120lbs soak and wet and I'm 5'8"). Twelve years being called bitch. Twelve years being called a whore. Twelve years being told I was a piece of shit and nobody would ever want me. Twelve years of lies because he knew he would never be able to keep me.

And one morning with J is all I ever need to erase (from my new mindset) all the bullshit, cut downs, lies, and hate filled accusations.

I was watching her make breakfast as the sun was coming up. Sexy as hell in her Calvin Klein boxers and her white shirt. I had my legs pulled up on the kitchen chair, hugging my knees, and my chin resting on top of them. She turned around and looked my way. I knew I was caught staring at her ass, so I sat up, tilted my head to the side, and smiled my best "I'm innocent" smile.

The look in her eyes told me that I wasn't really busted. A slow smile curved her lips as she brought the food to the table.

"What?" I asked. Her stare was making me fidget.
Her smile consumed her face as she shrugged.
"What?" I asked again. I checked my clothes to make sure nothing was showing that wasn't supposed to be. Flannel shorts were fine (although they are now three sizes too big) and my long sleeved white shirt was covering what it was supposed to be covering. So I looked back at her and smiled again.
"Nothing." She paused to sip her milk. "Its just I've never seen you look as beautiful as you do right now."

One sentence from her and all that old bullshit fades like a bruise.

J's wisdom

I love my wife. What we have might not be legal in most states, but its ours and it can't be taken away.

She knows me. Better than I know myself and she always knows the right thing to say at times when I'm so lost in my head, bringing me right back to where I need to be.

Back in February, I had hit a roadblock with my writing. (I write fiction.) I was stressed and aggravated and thinking about just giving up. If you know me, you know that I never give up but I was in that deep of a rut. I figured that I should put away the writing and just return to music. At least it would have still been creative.

I'm not sure how it came up, but I told her how I was beginning to doubt my writing since I had hit the huge roadblock the week before. This is what she told me..."You know, Michael Crichton, who wrote ER, Jurassic Park, and Twister (and other stuff) said 'books aren't written, they're rewritten. It is one of the hardest things to accept, especially after the seventh rewrite hasn't quite done it.'"

I contemplated it for a few minutes and in my silence, she figured I needed more of a push.

Then she said..."You know, Ernest Hemingway rewrote 'A Farewell to Arms' 39 times and he later went on to win the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes."

There are an infinite number of reasons why I love J. A majority of them, words could not describe. But, one I can describe is her mind. She is one of the most intelligent people I know. And she always knows the right thing to say.

Yeah, I love my intelligent, sexy, super talented, guitar playing, stock trading, loving wife.

I never needed a reason

Yesterday, I wrote a blog entry on Myspace about the Astronomy night thing. It was longer than the one I wrote in here. J always reads that blog. (I don't think she's even peeked at this one.)

Part of what I wrote was, "If space is infinite, it kind of makes me feel small and insignificant." Or something along those lines.

Last night, I was in bed reading a book ("Red Light" by JD Glass) and J crawls up beside me. This is what she said.

"You shouldn't feel small and insignificant because, to me...you are my whole world. And if I didn't have you, the world as I know it wouldn't exist."

And that's only one of the millions of reasons that I love her.