Rub-A-Dub

Here's something I've never done before; put up a wishlist. It started as a list of things I craved, and those I'd eternally crave for. Good stuff like apple pie die hard. Which explains why my wishlist starts with edibles!

Tummy Rumbles
Chocolate coated digestive biscuits
Red velvet with chocolate icing
Ben&Jerry's Chunky Monkey
Chocolate Haagen Dazs
Peach crumble
Apple pie


Vanity Sighs
Earrings Classy, funky, sexy, anything but tacky
Cardmaking material and equipment Or just paper, beautiful on its own
Notebooks Those lovely ones I rarely bring myself about to buy for my collection
Anything pretty, dainty, wooden, swirly, fairy-related or with appealing delicacy Trinkets, mirrors, boxes, bags, stationary, apparel


Personally Hunting For
Versatile sling bag
Pretty mini umbrella
Classic pinprick diamond studs


Blacklist
Aka the Items Which Usually Disappoint
Toiletries
Candles
Stuffed toys


Ps.
I Don't Wear
Belts
Rings

An Equidistant Nameless Sphere Away

Written 3rd August 2010

The old feeling enveloped me; the one of staying motionless and just looking back, nostalgia. I couldn't leave the outside, the whir of wheels and spur-of-the-moment directions called out of the child figures now only visible to me. Once I crossed the line of meeting, I couldn't turn back. Onward, my heart tugged, forward - into memories far older than those I try to restrain now. Immersed myself. The colours, not so close to the ground now - patchy black, with stabs of green; white streaks and smatterings of brown. This is where I grew up. Here in Cats' Alley. I met one of them after fifteen paces; it stared at me with familiar yellow eyes. The same tension, the same pause. I seized the moment and then went on. I liked the view from closer to the ground. Things seemed more real and existent then; not an equidistant nameless sphere away. Crunch, crunch beneath my feet; it used to fill my ears with more exuberance, contending with the wind as I raced my way to the next junction. Stopped, stood.
From this portal I turned to see how far I'd come.
My eyes flew to the space where green was in mid-convo with blue, both resting on the edge of a blackened runway. Now all the houses look the same, though on the way up each exuded personality - the same feelings as I passed the same shaded yards, the same sense of obstruction as I barely turn my head; I knew them all. Then I see you braking to a stop at the end of that runway; I hear the signal we agreed upon and steady myself for the descent. Without thought I switch the right pedal up - and push, on left. Everything hurtling rooftops converging voices scents sounds, all sliding past - swerve to the right, been wondering when that metal sheet would reappear - grip for a screech and the cats break up their conference; once more I push and my hair whips my face, my eyes sting and water but nothing stops me 'cause I know I'm returning to you.
You who wait there a little past the meeting line. I cross the threshold and go back to only holding dreams.

Of Fire and Soul

What does it mean to dream of the elements, and of fire being mine?


For some mysterious reason, some of my best quotes come when I'm sitting on the toilet bowl. Just when my phone is well out of reach and I am conveniently immobilised.

Dancing gave me a literal pain in the butt today. But I've finally found what I've been looking for, and it's an uplifting sensation. Drove home as one in a dream. The movements, weight shifts and flow that come most natural to me, have always escaped definition - until now.
I've tried ballet, hip hop, popping, locking, ballroom, latin; none have felt native or answered my soul's calling the way modern dance does. When I did hip hop, they said my style was
"too graceful". When I tasted ballet, it was bitter enough to toss the spoon into the bin so I'd never have to take another scoop, so to speak.


Been remarkably busy these past months. But I'm coming back with a bang, ready to share a precious piece. Stay tuned.