Thursday, February 24, 2011

the laugh

how many different kinds of laughs are there?

i know that i can laugh a fake laugh at almost anything. i have a nervous "what is going on here laugh" and then i have a "this really isn't funny but i'll show some teeth and giggle to appease this not funny person." i learned how to be good at this laugh.

there is my real laugh that is loud and unladylike. it comes out like a surprised bark and my mouth opens wide all my teeth show and anyone can see my tongue pulsing to the beat of my laughter. i laugh from the deep fissures of my belly and i snort sometimes but this feels good. sometimes i laugh so hard tears are squeezed out of my tightly squeezed eyes and i laugh so hard it hurts.  this laughter has been with me since the beginning.

in between these laughters i have many variations. i have the laughs that i've laughed at moments i didn't think i would ever laugh. the laughter i laughed bemusedly sorting through my grandma's belongings, the laughter i share with my monkey when she wraps her little arms tightly around my neck and my heart aches a little from happiness, the laugher i try to stifle when someone trips or falls and i turn red from holding it in, the laughter i can share with someone at the most inopportune moment; when his naked skin is against mine, and lastly there is the laughter at myself. the laughter i have when no one is looking and i mumble odd things to myself and i think i am funny so i laugh my little hahaha laugh just for me.

this laughter is one i'm glad i have and hope i never lose.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Touching Allowed

The idea of touch has been fascinating me recently. How much we touch, how much we are touched,  how often we refrain, even when our hand is about to reach out and we stop. Its odd because sometimes what can be said in touch is simply muddled with words. I have never liked to be touched. Its difficult for me to accept new people into my space and it creates this unease within me that I can't quite explain. For me touch is something you have to get to know, have to be comfortable with, a small pat on the arm is earned because a trust is developed. I have cuddling friends and we got to that point because we are just that close, but it takes time. A comfort that evolves just as anything else. A hand on the small of your back that guides you through the room. A consoling pat on the thigh. Fingers intertwined briefly in a conversation. A burst of excitement as two palms slap in a high-five. A leg that rests gently against yours under the table...

So, I suppose this is my ode to touch. A small snippet...

The morning light streams through the thin curtains. My eyes are from still heavy from my quickly fading dream. Something about a trip. I am driving in a car that is not mine towards the rising sun, dawn to be exact the moment before the sun pierces your eyes and you have to turn away. I'm on a lone rode, a divider of large rust colored mountains, mountains that tower over me and make me realize I'm completely alone and not sure where I'm going. Already though, I'm forgetting the detail, I can only remember the sensation. I think that maybe if I close my eyes for a moment I can continue on the road and come back to reality a little later. 

I lull back into a lucid sleep and don't notice the bed shift. I'm brought back with a light fingertip. A fingertip that begins to glide, slowly, down the base of my neck and follows the path of my spine. I don't want to open my eyes, but I stare at the reddened backs of my eyelids and exhale slowly. My breath tickles the strands of hair that have fallen into my face. Slowly, almost painfully the light touch makes its way down to the base of my back, just above the the sheet that is the only barrier between us. He draws a small circle, hovering, then travels back up just as slowly. 

Tiny tinges dance across my skin, each one multiplying and moving from the center out. I sigh when he stops at my neck and gently kisses my shoulder blade. The weight of my eyes is almost too much, but I have to turn. Turn to see his face and take in the way he touches me with his eyes. 

Thursday, February 10, 2011

the middle

there are times when  it's hard to see where things start and where they begin. there's a blurring of lines that sometimes becomes messy. a metaphorical sand painting just after its been destroyed. after all the hard work one puts into something, its hard to be the one to blur all the colors together and let the winds do the rest.

there's something about the middle though. the middle when there is calm and patience and love in carefully creating the image. life is not sand though, and that's why the middle is even more important. without the middle we would really have nothing. so for now i'm going to enjoy this middle. this middle place that's found me, and see what winds come...

Sunday, February 6, 2011


yummy yummy i got love in my tummy.....

something in the way she moves.... don't wanna leave her now

pour some sugar on meeeee....

and my next girl will be nothing like my ex-girl i made a grave mistake i'll never do it again...

And now, we interrupt our regularly scheduled program for this important news:
Reports are showing that a constant stream of stimulus can have adverse effects on the thought patterns and processes of the brain. These adverse effects include difficulty sleeping, constant chattering, and difficulty concentrating. Please be advised that in order to lower these effects.....

Rape meeee. Rape me my friend. Rape me do it and do it again.

"Wait, what were they saying?"