ryan phillippe’s mouth part two…but don’t call the cops

and not only do i like ryan phillippe’s mouth, i think about it. it all sparks from seeing him push his film ‘breach’ on ellen.since then, i haven’t quite been able to kick this constant fascination.

i had a friend once (bob v, i miss you soooooo much) who was a talented guitarist and was the only guy i knew who wore leather pants. he was so awesome and he always always took good care of me. we hung out in bowling green, ohio, while i was a student in college. he was also in a band with one of the best guitarists i’ve ever known, alex a. alex is a guy who actually, well, you know how you can meet some people who are so incredibly unique and cool that they somehow shape your perspective, your life? they enchant it, they inspire you and they also become life mentors. he lived without boundaries and overall is one of the most beautiful souls i’ve ever had the priviledge of being around. he also fixed me the meanest dessert of strawberries and milk one night and introduced me to music upon music upon music. my first radio dedication came from him one morning. the song was “serenade to a soul sister” by horace silver. this was alex. and i hope to find him again someday. the sheer rabid coolness my friends back then possessed is so rare, i think about them from time to time and the nostalgia is breathtaking. if your good fortune leads you to really good folk, work at keepin’ ‘em.  the older you get, the harder they are to find.

anyway…i have digressed. bob was so into bjork (anyone with brains has to be) that he said he’d be willing to listen to an album of her just coughing. he was also willing to perversely paint her toenails and well, the rest i’ll leave to your imagination.

this is how i am about ryan’s mouth. i think about it doing things like chewing, smiling, laughing, cursing, drinking, brushing. i mean, his mouth is like the perfect pair of jeans. fitted, warm, curvy in the right places. warm (oops, i already said that). welcoming. smooth. creased but soft. when put to work or movement, just straight killer. hmmm…sigh. and hmmmmm…again. indeed.

does anyone out there agree/disagree?  is fascinated by a celebrity mouth?  am i the only one?

ryan phillippe

i’ve clearly decided that i like ryan phillippe’s mouth…um, especially when it’s moving.

filibuster

somehow i have been reborn

a wandering walking embryo

you, you, you

have showed me how to grow

all that i thought i knew must go, it went

i’m hot and i’m spent and i will follow your leadership

my gait strong, my will gone

for my arms have enveloped you like

like, like, like

all that i have is to be, to consume

to show to share to drink to fill to feel to

to, to

see, see

what you do, you

leave me a child, painted in manic blue

full, full

on and of and about you

(secretly i’d love this impromptu poem to be to someone but it was written for something.  the song *war is a crime* by ANTIBALAS from talkatif.)

stay tuned…werk in progresso

ain’t that the way it is

as a writer, i’m not only the quiet (at first) observant quirky girl who sits and writes incessantly in a college ruled notebook with an overpriced yet smooth writing pen about my life and my experiences and my goals or ruddy, confused characters that i’ve drawn from past pleasures/disenchantment (all of which are pseudo copies of me, somehow). i’m also that pop culture phenom-wannabe that with a kenmore vacuum precision finds gleeful joy sucking on all things topical and ‘now’ and often times frivolous. i believe (like most writers) in a strange fashion sense as well as life’s peaks and valleys. i believe most writers (good ones) make strange hairstyle choices and are the oddest most neurotic people i know. we rarely iron our clothes, yet we attract people because of the way we ingest life and write about it with an easiness equal to that of breathing. and i love us for our every inch of craft and oddity.

yesterday a friend of mine shared with me a photo collection of a guy from indonesia. the pictures were the most professional yet artistic mouth watering pictures i’ve seen in a long time. each shot increased in beauty, clarity and that certain something that amplifies human existence with a strong celebratory kind of spectacle. they were self-portraits that breathed stories. and this is what we do. our art inspires yet amplifies. and it is all about us.

because it’s winter i find myself lounging a bit. with tv remote in hand i’ve become trapped like moths to light on this whole ‘way over’ reality tv show thing. what is it about the human condition that makes me spend hours on end watching tv shows on a rather strict and rigid yet charismatic gym trainer-femme bot out of bevelry hills, or a team of cooks fussing over carrying pots to a stove, or a super bored partying cast of 20 somethings glossing over strong social issues, arguing, fighting, and crying and full of alcohol and prone to bad dancing. or a ragged out version of an equally ragged out bachelorette show where a girl and mom team pick over a motley crew of guys and the main hostess says stuff like, “look at you, knowin’ what to do with me,” and asking “you feel me?” i love it and it’s bad for me like candy. or those singing shows where bad singers sing to be told they are bad, yet they garner more fame. or dancing shows led by dancers trying to give other dancers a shot at fame. or shows that are nightmare fantasy, and involve eating a potpourri of pre-e.coli type entrees. and this is only the tip of the ice berg, at any given time, i am subject to real-time plastic surgeries, births, animal operations, safari excursions, that chipper blond host on the travel channel who has the raddest job i’ve ever seen, getting massages in los angeles or the next minute walking an exotic beach, or watching a new couple find an affordable house somewhere in san francisco, or watching a team of ‘experts’ demolish a house. it’s endless and it’s ours.

it all says something about the human condition, our need for each other, our need to connect, our fascination yet vulnerability yet curiosity about this thing called ‘life.’

if you ever find yourself bored, stuck, disenchanted, unsatisfied, sick of self, sick of someone, needing inspiration tired of [fill in the blank please], all you have to do is open yourself up, someone’s interesting reality is right (write) around the corner for you. i mean at best you find your friends and dish, you can even write to me, but for those other moments you just may end up learning how to deliver a baby in a bathtub, how to get your abs delectable, how to dance, how to tear down a house, or what current catch phrase you should use around the office, or how to dress or where to visit this summer, or what to not say or how to better phrase what we say in the presence of people we barely know.

but more so, we can feed off of these realities to enhance our own.

and i got all that from reality tv…yeah, i guess so.

i’m lovin’ yellow

somehow my old coldplay album from 1999 has reared its lovely self in my direction and i keep listening to it.  and when i’m not listening to it, i think about it.  a beautiful album indeed.

wednesday…valentine’s day.

here’s my song to those who have guts.  and for those who do not, i think the pussycat dolls have an interesting catalogue as well.  just teasing, everybody needs a ‘buttons’ or a ‘dontcha’ but when things get a bit harder than simple math…here’s coldplay from the album ‘parachutes.’

wamest of lovelies to you, babies…whoever you are…

“Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do,
Yeah, they were all yellow.

I came along,
I wrote a song for you,
And all the things you do,
And it was called “Yellow.”

So then I took my turn,
Oh what a thing to’ve done,
And it was all yellow.

Your skin
Oh yeah, your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful,
And you know
You know I love you so,
You know I love you so.

I swam across,
I jumped across for you,
Oh what a thing to do.
Cuz you were all yellow,

I drew a line,
I drew a line for you,
Oh what a thing to do,
And it was all yellow.

Your skin,
Oh yeah your skin and bones,
Turn into something beautiful,
And you know,
For you I’d bleed myself dry,
For you I’d bleed myself dry.

It’s true, look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for…
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine for you,
Look how they shine…

Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And all the things that you do.”

coldplay
pussycat dolls (cuz it’s cute and catchy)
natalia…your karoake minutes have not been forgotten.

tuscany 2007

i bought a tuscany calendar for 2007. the pictures are breathtaking.

to the south of siena is the crete. cypress trees, planted to provide windbreaks along roads, are an important sculptural feature in the empty and primeval landscape.

i daydream of us doing february
walking a gray and shining road
a small cavaliering house in the distance but
nothing between us and this blanching sun.
we are moving along a road lined with stilted trees
we are hand holding and quixotic

and although i’ve worked this fantasy a thousand
times.
i don’t know what you look like
but i can feel…
you.

signage: office break

regular sugar (me)
equal (we)
sweet and low (like trees)
splenda (lush)
creamer (u dreamer!)
stirs (you me)
filters (like fingers)