Light and Darkness

Prognostication

With little imagination, my mind focuses on a simple dream.
Your whispered desires, breathy in my ear.
Hot-skinned fingertips stroking my arm.
And your lips, long unslaked, finally upon my own.

No history of a kiss, this intimate hello, currently directs us.
Yet, with certainty my mouth will know you.
Our connection, christened by sighs and tongue,
finally realized in person as it was in a vision.

Designed by years and separate experience,
that future moment sits impatiently in my soul.
I recognize the insignificance to others;
as they may pass us with no regard to the occasion.

But I embrace its importance.
A climax to our shared past.
A door to possibility.
An invitation to explore.

Only understood by other dreamers,
the poets and musicians preceding us.
Like the Oracle at Delphi,
with their lyrical words, they guided us to each other.

A brief interlude, perhaps, will be that kiss.
However, a bond that has claimed us.
And though hesitant to declare this connection,
my mind focuses on this simple dream.

Sometimes, I can be dense and downright stupid.

I have never been one to not know how to talk to a man. I don't think there are these big secrets on how to do it; but honestly, I don't have these five key points to share with you. Sorry, Carrie...still don't know what I do. I just talk to anyone, man or woman, as honestly as I possibly can. I listen. I joke. I empathize. I get a little risque. I'm just hoping to have a great conversation and maybe a human connection.

Because of this, I often find myself as the girl buddy of so many men....it was a lot more so in my teens and twenties. And infrequently, I would find that one of my guy buddies would be attracted to me. But more often than not, I'm left wanting the lustful attention that my guy friends and other men lavish on OTHER women.

Read enough of this space and you know the self-esteem I am working with. A lifetime riddled with abuse and conflict. Depression. Loss. etc etc. I feel saddled with so much baggage that jumping into the dating world at my age scares the fuck out of my already fragile psyche. And physically? Woh, let me just jump out of the pool right now.

And the last point is what I've chosen to sum up what makes me Naomi. Forget my intelligence, my wit, and my voice. Forget my creativity, my experience, and my compassion. Forget my sensuality, my passion, and my vision. Oh no. I, Naomi have chosen to say that you should only pay attention to my physical self. I can't say that it's all my fault. That's been the focus of so many people; and I internalize all the criticisms and have made it my focus. So, I'm obsessed with my looks and have generalized that all men are obsessed as well.

Good god...all that to get to this point. I do drag on, don't I?

So...within the last month, there has been some attention directed this way of mine. Hanging with Texas has been cool and has been stroking my womanly ego. It's nice. That and other additional attention. Again, very nice. But it's made me weepy and neurotic. So much so that I broke down and talked to a friend of mine, Brian.

Brian is sexy. ABSOLUTELY FUCKING SEXY. He's that guy that has always been the jock. A jock that got drafted into professional baseball. He was a firefighter, muscular and strong. He's a trained chef. Yum to the Gordon Ramseys of the world. He's 6'4" and athletic. Dark hair. Handsome face. Beautiful man! And funny and charismatic to boot. A woman's wet dream. He's fucking awesome. He's married to Nacole who is fabulous and beautiful. I love them both (and dating them both...we're Big Loving it, folks! I want to marry them). Because of our friendship and his marital status, I feel I have the freedom to talk to him about certain things. And because Brian is a reformed man-whore and I needed an honest opinion from a person on the inside of the beautiful people's club. I called him last week and found it the most revealing conversation.

We talked at length about what men are attracted to and I mentioned that he would never choose to talk to a woman like me. Chiding me, he told me that I don't know what kind of woman he and his friends would choose to approach. I told him that I'm not stupid. Come on! Sitting among other women in a bar, he would not come to me. Again, he scolded me and told me that I was wrong. The only thing I lacked, he said was the confidence in myself. That's it. He conceded and said, yes, for a fuck and one night stand, he would pick someone different. Just because he was looking and wanting that particularly. And he proceeded to tell me how I have it and only needed to confide in myself that I do. He promised to take me out and be my wing-man to prove it as well.

He's not the only one of the male persuasion to tell me these things especially recently. Again, I was surprised with the reaction. My female friends say things to the same effect all the time, but it's different. They're my girlfriends. There's no need to try and get my women to adore me physically. We support each other differently. Emotionally. But people, let's not lie to each other or to ourselves. We need that assurance from the gender we're attracted to that we are attractive. If you're heterosexual, you need that sexual tension that exists between you and the opposite sex. You want your male friends tell you that you're hot and would do you. I think the same truth exists if you're homosexual. Maybe I'm wrong all the way around. But in my case, it's nice to have a man tell me that they find me sexy and beautiful and the shit!

I don't know why I'm finding all this surprising. I'm not so shallow that I'm attracted to people for their beautiful facades, but I feel ashamed that I'm treating people so shallowly. My own hang-ups. It's going to take some easing into this, but it feels nice that maybe...perhaps....I can honestly believe these men, and my female friends, in my life that I'm not so ugly. And yes....I'm desired!

Party in my Mouth!

I'm only posting the first of the three videos but definitely watch all three. Good god, they are hilarious! The viral video of the little boy after visiting the dentist is rivaled only by our dear, sweet girl in the Thwee Arms video.

Laughed too much watching them. I have to be truthful.....I peed a little.

If desperate, you could always wikiHow.

I love...L-O-V-E...love How To guides such as wikiHow, which make anything seem doable. With absolutely no sarcasm or humor from my part, I searched for a guide to help me put on my socks. Afterall, there may be a day that my method of socking my feet fails to be effective and I need a Plan B (Ok. Maybe a wee bit of sarcasm). Voila! There is one in seven simple steps with warnings to boot.

My favorite wikiHow for today is How to Rock Like Angus Young. Apparently, there were several confused young musicians out there seeking advice on just this subject. Frustrated on the lack of information on the ever expanding internetverese, a wise musician...a sage, if you will...felt compelled. Nay. Driven and obligated to educate these poor souls. Because seriously, who hasn't wanted to be Angus Young?

Unfortunately, there isn't a wikiHow yet on How to Be Tom Jones; but my fingers are crossed.

Beckoning

Momentarily Defined

This is who I am -
at this moment,

I crave apples and passionate kisses.
My skin longs for sensual lotions,
applied by kneading masculine hands.
My curly hair sways in the breeze like gentle waves,
lapping at a buoy's edge.
My silhouette is mysteriously lit for the stranger at his opened door,
quickly glancing out.
I am wearing shoes dirtied from weeks of work grime and barefooted use.

This is who I am -
at this moment,

I miss state fairs with Ferris wheels and paper tickets for rides.
I fear my soul's desires and want to reveal them to him.
My bed is unmade and my room is unkempt.
My teeth play with my bottom lip and its adornment.
I wear six rubber-bands on my left wrist.

This is who I am -
at this moment,

I have a journal filled with tired rants and lustful dreams.
My cat sleeps poetically by a chair,
peacefully begging me to bury my nose in her belly.
I have stretch-marks,
reminding me that my child once owned my body.
My mind is preoccupied.
I have a friend living in Memphis, which is too far away.

This is who I am -
at this moment,

I have little money and grandiose dreams.
I want to own a house and paint it a light cheery yellow.
I'm want to have another child.
My legs need to be shaved,
preferably whilst in a steaming shower.
I obsess over pens and pencils.

This is who I am -
at this moment.

A duh! moment

National Geographic has posted an article about a Princeton University psychologist that discovered that men view scantily clad women as sexual objects rather than using their higher thinking skills when looking at them.

Really? The university, its financial supporters, and grant monies invested in this research? Really?

Huh.

We're any of them truly surprised with any of the findings? Are any of us sitting there, scratching our heads and saying to ourselves, "I did not know this. Wow. My eyes have been opened."

Princeton, I propose a project that would compare the effects of multiple variables on subjects, of varying mental capacities, ages, physical abilities, gender, social demographics, in a sterile environment,  against a control group. I hypothesize that the process of turning on a light switch will affect each research volunteer and would like the funding to find this out.

Frost Bank

Negative shot of this bank near my apartment complex. The building is rather plain and non-specific amongst the skyline. But as a negative, I find the building more mysterious and inviting with many more tales to tell. Jekyll and Hyde.

Mood Indigo by Nina Simone

This woman is the shit. She and Ella are probably at the top of my heart list. Incidentally the High Priestess of Soul's birthday is this month (February 21) so we'll have a Nina Day!

You ain't never been blue, no, no, no
You ain't never been blue
Till you've had that mood indigo
That feeling goes stealing down to my shoes
While I just sit here and sigh
Go along blues

I always get that mood indigo
Since my baby said goodbye
And in the evening when the lights are low
I'm so lonely I could cry
For there's nobody who cares about me
I'm just a poor fool that's bluer than blue can be
When I get that mood indigo
I could lay me down and die

You ain't never been blue, no, no, no
You ain't never been blue
Till you've had that mood indigo
That feeling goes stealing down to my shoes
While I just sit here and sigh
Go along blues

Just a Reminder

Anyone that wants me to be goo in their hands for a couple of lifetimes can purchase any of the following things. Note that this list is not comprehensive. Just a couple of things on it:

Frank Lloyd Wright house
Frank Lloyd Wright anything else (goo for only one lifetime though)
An island
A David C Roy Wood that Works sculpture