Posts Tagged ‘fairy tales’

Beautiful And Drunk

February 20, 2018


Tipsy on the way you look at me.

The way you hold me tight.

The feel of your arms around me.

Besotted with you face.

The way it is framed by the window pane behind you.

The view of the river and the dark limbs of trees wet with the falling snow.


Magicked from above on your whim.

To sucker punch me with your charms, the brightness of your eyes.

The adoration there.

Dreamy and smitten with you.

There is nothing I could imbibe that would render me more inebriated.

Than your face.

Softly bombed and smote on the laughter that falls from your mouth into my eager ears.



How I love you.

I cannot tally all the moments that whirl in my head.

I have snap shots.

Photographs of you.

Kissing your cheek in front of a Rothko.

Holding your hand walking across red brick alleys.

The birds, out of nowhere, singing, harmonizing our love, trilling it loud to the sky.

I turned my face up to that sky and watched the clots of snow drift down, catching some on the tip of my tongue and laughing, knowing that soon you would kiss that self-same mouth.

Sitting across a table from you while music from the soundtrack of our love story played over the speakers.

Snatches of songs that we send one another.

Playlists of longing.

Songs of sorrow and sadness and desires.

Torch songs.

Blues songs.

Love songs for lovers.

All love songs remind me of you now.



More than others.

You know the ones.

I am woozy with you.

You have gone to my head.

Once again.

Punch drunk on your love.

Enchanted and elated.



Though I may be foolish.


I hear music.

I think of fairy tales.


I want your happily ever after.

I want your love always.


I want you.

Won’t you want me too?

Just say you do.

Just please.

Say you do.


Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is La Vie En rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see La Vie En Rose

When you press me to your heart
I’m in a world apart
A world where roses bloom

And when you speak…angels sing from above
Everyday words seem…to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La Vie En Rose.




You Are My

August 19, 2017


You are my euphoria.

You are my sudden joyous turn.

You are the opposition ending the couplet in Shakespeare.

You are the happy ending to the fairy tale.

You destroy me from within.

When all joy seems to be lost, you find me.

You grant me beauteous hope.

You light a fire in me.

You have burned me down and I am built back up.

I babble in tongues for you.

I am overwrought and emote arrows of hearts.

I flail in my fear and shake in my desperation.

And then.

You see me.

You show me the beauty of the story.

A narrative I thought I wrote alone.

For I have written my own dark ending so long ago, that I forgot.

Happily ever after is possible.

With you.

I can glimpse the underlying truth.

I am in awe of you.

Of us.

Of alchemy and passion and love songs.

You wield the sight of angels.

You see me.

I cannot lie.

I have tried.

I need to be truthful in all things.

I need to be passion.

I need to be fire for you.

You encompass me.

I will slay dragons for you.

You are the impossible problem overcome.

You resolve me.

You are the joy that brings tears.

You are the laughter after terrible adventures.





Are my everything.



And…..Drumroll Please….

August 26, 2013


The gates opened tonight at six p.m. and it was on.

It is on.

It is going to be going on for a good long time and it’s only going to be getting more on.


I am tired.

8a.m. start, 11:30p.m. right now.

Got a break mid-day, though, and went out and yes, got me some art fix.

The Hug Deli

The Hug Deli

I went out the 9 o’clock keyhole, since that is the one closest to where I am camped and I only had an hour and a half break away from baby.

Today was the big push for the mom and the beginning of the busiest time for dad.

So, short little break mid day.

And was I going to waste it on a nap?

Uh nope.

Besides I actually managed to get close to seven hours last night and was feeling like I could pull it out.

I had gotten my camera back from dad’s car and I was bound and determined to take some photographs.

The Hug Deli was the first thing on the list that drew me in.

It is a wonderful little interactive art piece that has been out on the playa for a while.

Some one man’s the deli, or “woman’s” the deli, and the person who needs a hug comes up and orders what they need.

Maybe they need a bear hug.

Maybe they need a gangsta hug.

Maybe they need a superstar hug.

Perhaps they would like that with a side of air kiss and a compliment is usually all that is required to get your hug.

I was taking photographs of it when a trio of freshly landed gals strolled up in their birthday suits.

I got out of the deli so they could order up some fresh hugs.

One girl slipped inside the booth and donned the little apron on the peg behind the counter.  The other two ladies stood looking up at the menu.

“Good afternoon!  What kind of hug would you like today?”  Their friend said getting into the role.

“Hmmm,” one girl said looking at the other girl, “I don’t see the hug I want on the menu.”

“Well,” the counter girl said pausing and thinking about it for a moment, “you look like someone I could make an exception for, I’ll let you order off the menu.”

The two girls turned and whispered something to each other, then broke out into giggles.

“I don’t have all day,” the counter girl said tap tapping her fingers on the counter top.

One of the ladies step forward, “we would like to order together, if that’s ok.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, I can handle a double order, we’re kind of slow right now,” the girl said leaning forward.  “So what will it be?”

“We would like to order a naked three-way hug!” The girl exclaimed.

“Two compliments please,” the counter girl said with a huge grin on her face.

“You have the prettiest eyes and I love how you sound when you laugh,” her friend said.

“Come get your hug!” She scurried out, stripping off the apron and tossing it behind the counter.

The three naked girls embraced each other and I made my way further off the playa.

I didn’t come her to watch naked girls make out, but the guys behind me were quite thrilled to catch the show.

Naked Hugs

Naked Hugs

I was more interested in seeing how the Church Trap had come along.

I was absolutely thrilled with the finished results.

Although I did not get any photographs that did it justice because as I walked up and set my water bottle down and folded close my umbrella (it was raining lightly when I left camp) I ran into an old friend sitting in the back pew.

Hugs ensued.

I asked him what he was doing for the next little bit of time and he said, hanging out here, and we chit chatted and I said, well, I have some time, so, give me a paw.

And I sat and gave him a hand massage.

It was awesome.

The sun was setting warmly behind us, the rain spat having passed, the air was still a bit brisk and the sun felt wonderful on my back.

His sweet face was silhouetted and we snuggled into each other and watched as folks wandered in and out of the church.

Some to pound away on the organ.

Some to orate from the pulpit.

Some to joke about passing the hat.

One group sang Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”.

I am not sure why, perhaps it was just the laugh lines radiating from his eyes, but I asked my friend if he wanted a story.

It just sort of happened.

I am a nanny, sometimes I like to tell a good story.

He said yes and sank into the pew, wrapping his other arm around me he closed his eyes and I spun some tales.

I told him some fairy tales, my personal interpretations of Grimm’s fairy tales.

I told him Snow White and Rapunzel.

I rubbed his paws, and behind his ears, they looked like they needed some tender attention.

I told him about Paris and walking the streets and eating apples and getting high on art and writing in cafes and my friend who is some where out in the night waiting at gate to get into the event who is visiting from Paris and has never been to Burning Man before.

I can’t wait to see him!

I told my friend what is magical to me about Burning Man.

Moments like the one we were having.

We could not have planned it and it could not have been sweeter and lovelier.

Especially after my sad little pity party I had yesterday, which basically dissipated once I had a good nights sleep.

When my break was up I hug my friend, took his photograph, and he took mine.

The Senator

The Senator

I popped open my umbrella and flew back to my camp.

Just like Mary Fucking Poppins should.

Mary Fucking Poppins

Mary Fucking Poppins


Tonight’s Blog is Brought to You By

March 24, 2013

The baby strapped to my chest.

The baby who will not sleep unless strapped to my chest.

I know that I exude some maternal, but I wouldn’t mind being able to put him down to sleep in his crib, but I have tried twice and he has gotten so upset I decided to spare his sister, four and a half and up way past her bedtime, the crying.

It is not the worst way to write.

He smells wonderful.

Baby boy smell is a kind of delicious you just cannot buy.

Sweet Dreams

Sweet Dreams

He is also quite cozy and warm.

Spring, oh Paris, I hear such magical things about Spring, has not quite sprung yet, despite the date on the calendar, it was chilly today and may even snow tomorrow.

I usually bet on Spring making its real triumphant reveal after Easter.

Of course it may snow right around Easter, makes perfect sense.

Breathing in deeply and trying to type at the same time, this is a good practice I feel.

“Why do you want to stay in Paris,” she asked me as I struggled to stay focus and present minded, out of the worry and anxiety that does not serve.

“Ask yourself that,” she continued, “you can make a home where ever you are.  Why does it have to be Paris?”

Tears welled up in my eyes, “I thought, I know this sounds silly, I thought this would be where it happened.  Where my writing would take off, where I was supposed to be, where, I…”

I paused, let me let the not so secret secret out of the bag…

“where I would meet the person I was supposed to be with, where I would have a family, I really thought this.”  I ended with a few tears slipping down my face.

Maybe it is the tick tock of the biological clock.

Maybe it is all the babysitting I have done of late, the only house on the block, so to speak, money wise for me.  Tonight is actually double duty.  I was in the 7t earlier and hung out with my five-year old, who let me know she would be turning six very, very soon.

Her brother had a play date and she was having a rough go of things, so we popped in a video I normally would not have deigned to watch, “Barbie Princess Charm School”.

It was not my cup of tea. but she was not feeling well, and wanted to snuggle and mom had said a video was ok, so after lunch, we put it in, curled up on the chaise and snuggled.

I pulled the cashmere brown throw blanket over us, stuffed a pillow into the back of the leather chaise, pulled her into my lap and watched the clouds while she watched the video.

The view was pretty spectacular, out the window to the right–Invalides; out the window to the left–the Eiffel Tower.  Just below my shoulder, one small princess with honey blonde hair and small paws holding mine.

“I am sleepy,” she said, drowsing in and out against me.

“Me too,” I replied, “you can sleep if you want.”

She never did, but we stayed put on the couch all afternoon.

First the video.

Then we played dress up dolls with French paper dolls and sticker activity books.

50 Euro later and off to the Metro to dash over to meet some folks at Rue Madame.

A quiet hour, a refreshed brain, and then back 36 Rue Bellefond to grab a quick cup of tea, eat a banana, send out a memoir query for agency, pack up the computer, grab an apple for the road, and haul ass up and over the hill to the next gig.

The house was way active, the floor strewn with books, papers, legos, barbies, colored pencils.  Mom, dad, friends, phone calls, plans being made and discussed.

I will help them again tomorrow.

Mom and I will go to the Luxembourg Gardens and let the kids play in the park.

I am also on deck to work the evening as dad picked up an extra client at the tattoo convention who is coming back from the North of France special to get a 3/4 sleeve completed.

Then Tuesday I will be here and Wednesday, 9a.m. to 1 p.m. in Courbevoie, then back here so that mom and dad may get out and go to an art opening with friends and have a date as he will finally be done with work.

Thursday I have the early afternoon booked with another kind of work, then I pack up the bags and head out to Saint Germaine en Laye to house sit/dog sit.


That’s a week.

Knock on wood, I may actually make all my rent for April in one fell swoop.

I will be tired as fuck, but I will have gotten it.

Why do I want to be here?

I have been asking myself that ever since I was asked earlier.

The language, the culture, the art, the architecture, and because I really, still do believe, that whomever I may be fated to, yes, I believe in Fate, magic, sex, love, God, is to be found here.   My prince, is here, I believe, or on his way, near, so close, I can almost touch.

Yes, I am a sap and that is ok, because fairy tales do happen.

I am living one right now–with my sleeping beauty breathing on my heart.

Strapped tight to my chest and warm as a lullaby on a mid summer night.

In Paris.

Sleepy Baby

Sleepy Baby

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