You Can Do Anything You Want


As long as you accept the consequences of your actions.

There are some consequences I am down with, although I don’t particularly like them, I accept them.

Such as, the alarm is set for 7 a.m. and I have a full week of work ahead of me and should have been in bed but just had a friend leave.

Should I have sent said friend off into the Sunset, literally, that is where I live, or sit back, sip another cup of tea and know that the cost, a little less sleep, is well worth the little more friend.

I will gladly sacrifice that, hanging out with someone who is important in my life, to a few less hours of sleep.

Besides I slept in today and I don’t feel anything like sleepy yet.

I am sure that will bite me in the ass tomorrow sometime mid-afternoon when the boys are in between naps, but that is tomorrow, not right now.

Right now is pretty damn good.

Today was a good day.

Not a lot got done, but so much did as well.

Number one on the list?

Got the wet suit!

I went to Wise Surf shop over on Great Highway and sucked it up, literally and figuratively and got into the dressing room and tried on suits.

Wet suit shopping though not as fraught with emotional hang ups like swim suit shopping, is still a challenge and there is still getting nakedness happening.

Although I kept the bra on to climb in the first half of the suits.

I tried on O’Neill and Excel.

I ended up getting an Excel.

Fit better in the shoulders and it is now hanging in my closet.

I still am a little in awe that I actually went and got it.

But as I rode my bicycle over to the store seeing the sun breaking on the waves in patches where it drifted through the clouds and the fog, I knew I was doing the right action.

And I also knew, pretty much to a dime, what I could spend on the suit.

I came in about $50 under what I was aware my budget was.

Which means I can also get a pair of booties before I go back out.

I just got the suit today.

I had a tentative date to go surfing with my friend for next Sunday, but he had forgotten he had outstanding plans, so I may wait a little longer, but I know I am going.

I am also ecstatic to report that he is going to loan me his long board for a few months.


I have a wet suit and access to a surf board.

Now I just have to get my butt down to the water.

Step by step it is happening.

I have had a really nice Sunday, I am still reflecting, as the taste of my bean soup is sparking on my mouth, I also cooked up a big pot of soup–red kidney beans, white navy beans, onions, garlic, brown crimini mushroom, Seitan, lots of sea salt and black pepper and hours on the stoves cooking down.

A second pot of brown rice on the stove and I have food for the good part of the week.

I am quite glad to have taken the time to cook.

And to see my friend.

He was in the neighborhood having coffee with a friend of his, shot me a text, said, what are you up to and came over.

And we talked about shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings.

Love and sex and death and money.



He is almost done with my book and I am tickled by what he said.

Horrified too.

I know that the work is not as good as it could be and grammatically is probably a nightmare.

There is too, that vulnerability of having someone who’s critical voice matters to me.

In his own way, without meaning to, he’s my reader.

I don’t know how better to put that.

I have people who read my work, but as he’s been reading my blogs and a consistent supporter of my writing, I find that I consider him my reader.

That does not mean I write to him as an audience, oh no, gentle reader (to steal from Stephen King), I do not.

I wear that old heart on the sleeve, but there are still some things up my sleeve that I don’t reveal here.

There always will be.

My heart is open.

But my brain is not always.

Besides, my brain is best as a servant not as a master.

If I were to start thinking of any one person as having influence on what I write I’m screwed.

“Hi mom.”

“Hey, former employer who found out that I wrote about her mother’s underpants.”

(sorry that, but lady, you could have stopped reading at any time and it really was disconcerting to see your mother in her underwear while I was your nanny)

“Hey dude I slept with who lied to me about being single.”

“Hey friend who I want to sleep with, but am not quite, maybe soon, maybe not, ready to accept those consequences.”

I mean, add to the list.


I trust my friends thoughts and his steady unasked for support of my work.

This, this thing I do, this writing thing that I cannot stop doing.

Look at all those damn notebooks.

“Remember when I was at your house and I wanted a tea-cup and all you had were notebooks in the cupboard,” a recent friend said to me over coffee.

I do.

Those notebooks are in a big container in the garage.

I would write if you did not read.

I would accept the consequences of staying up “past my bedtime” to write this blog.

I would accept the consequences of sleeping with you too, but that’s another story for another night.

Life is short.

Love is lasting.

Sex is good.

Friends are better.

I got a wetsuit today and made soup.

I had a cup of tea with my friend and talked.

I listened to music and wrote.

I may not be very good at any of it, but I accept the consequences of doing that too.

Because if I had everything I ever wanted and never had to struggle or work for what I have, then I wouldn’t be a remarkable person.

I am remarkable.

And I accept those consequences too.

Believe that the mistakes you make are better than the ones you don’t risk because you were afraid to take them.


Go forth and make some mistakes.

Stay up late.

Kiss the wrong boy.

If you’re kissing him he’s the right one right now anyhow.

I guess what I am saying is that for the most part I may not choose to stay up past my bedtime very often anymore.

But when I do it is well worth it.

It certainly was tonight.


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