Posts Tagged ‘radio soulwax’

Home, Sweet, Sweet

May 24, 2016


It’s so nice to be back.

Sometimes I go away just to have that feeling again, of how much I love being home.

Home is San Francisco.


It could be elsewhere, I did find myself experiencing a very deep fondness for the little neighborhood in Brooklyn that was adjacent to where I was staying in Clinton Hill–The Fort Greene historic area, so, pretty, so many gorgeous brownstones and kids on scooters and the park and the feel of it being a community.

I really liked that.

I could see living in one of those brownstones and sitting on the stoop on a warm night or day, reading a book with a cup of coffee, watching the world go by.

I do like that.

I miss having a place like that to hang out, my place doesn’t have a front porch or a stoop.


There are spots in the neighborhood where I can sit and watch the world go by and I did do that for a little while today after getting back from the airport.

Despite big delays on BART, I still made it home pretty much around the time I thought I would as my flight came in a half hour before it was scheduled, so the time I “lost” on the train wasn’t really lost time.


I had my book from the Strand and I pulled that out and started reading and got a good 60 pages into it, popped on my headphones, listened to some Radio Soulwax and just sat.

Sometimes I just need to slow down.

I just got off the phone with one of the women I work with and that was the gist of the conversation, the suggestion to just slow down.

I can get going really fast, I won’t feel, and I will be doing and it tricks my brain into thinking I’m being productive, but sometimes I am just running away from myself.

I take myself wherever I go.


There I am again, I thought during a moment of being slightly turned around in Brooklyn and hesitating as to what to do next, literally I was walking around in little circles.

I realized that I was there with me and the “me” was itchy and antsy and getting a little irritated and discontent, which is like my natural state, so I said a prayer asked for guidance and got take out from the Thai place I had dinner at on Saturday night.


Just stopping and slowing down and letting the world happen, I got to meet Doug and go do the tour of his studio, so even when I seem lost and confused, see, there, I am being looked after and loved.

I sent him a thank you note via e-mail and got just the sweetest response from him today.

He told me the price for the piece I want, several thousand dollars (but he also offered to work out a deal with me, which I super appreciated and despite not having several thousand to drop on an art piece, boy howdy do I aspire to that), and also an invitation to stay at his place the next time I visit–he rents an Air BnB as well, and he said when he comes to San Francisco we must get together.

Also, and I found this so sweet and endearing, that I will make a great, empathetic therapist and I will make loads of money and buy lots of art including his.

That literally brings tears to my eyes.

A very secret wish of mine, to be able to afford to buy the art I love and also to support the artists that I see around me, I love art, it does something to me and creativity and my friends who are artists just blow me away.

“What kind of art do you do,” he asked me outside the doors of the meeting hall, it’s an assumption I get a lot.

But instead of saying I’m not an artist, I said, “I’m a writer.”

And that is a kind of art.

I am creating as I type and when it is right, when the mood is lovely and I am completely transparent I am a conduit and what comes forward is not me, it super cedes me and reshapes me and I am a different person after doing the writing.

In that is great joy.


I want to be an amazing photographer, I am a passable amateur.

Of course I want to draw and paint and sculpt, but those mediums I have never quite had the passion for, the drive for.  I do get ideas and have ways of being in the world that I believe, deep within me, are supremely artistic.

It could just be the way I arrange my hair or hang a photograph on the wall.


I have always wanted to be a patron.

There’s just something super sexy about that.

A dream.

A home, a big one, with lots of light and a studio to write in and a library to read in and rooms for friends to come and do retreats and a cottage in the back and art everywhere and recovery and always the work, the growing the finding of new beauty and subsuming it into my person.

How much art can I hold?

How much love can I give.

That is an art.

The art of smiling, being of service, reaching out, kindness is an act of art.

Art is love.

It is perspective and joy and great waves of sorrow and overwhelming moments of uplift and I can’t comprehend it and maybe, probably, I just don’t want to.

It is an art being myself.

I realize this as I move through the world, how I let myself express myself is an art too.

I can be a living piece of art.

Although sometimes I just need to be a tired human.

The well needed to get refilled today.

When I got home I unpacked my bag and threw my clothes in the wash, I put all my things away, all the notebooks and the few little things I had brought back from my travels and walked up to a little spot in the neighborhood and grabbed lunch.

I sat inside, then I realized I just wanted to sit for a while.

I pulled up a seat at an outside table and sat and watched the ocean in the distance and the neighborhood doing it’s neighborhood deal and then I read for an hour.

Occasionally closing my eyes to the sun and I realized I needed a nap.

So a quick pit stop at Other Avenues for some household stuff and then home.

And a nap.

Oh such a nap.

I slept three hours.

I woke up twice to a text message and to pee, but really, I slept nearly three hours and I can feel I am a bit jet lagged still.

So easy does it the rest of tonight.

Full and grateful heart and a gentle song of jazz on my radio and a little more tea.

And sleep.

In my own home.

In my own bed.

In my favorite place in the world.

San Francisco.

Where my he(art) is.

Full Time Get It

April 20, 2016


First semester, second year, grad school.

Bring on the student loans!


At least I still have scholarship monies coming.

I had that thought this morning as I was preparing to sit and twiddle my thumbs for too long while I was juggling my reading for my Clinical Relationship class–the server kept crashing, too many of us all trying to register at the same time.

Remember when it was by telephone and you had to wait for the automated person to tell you if you got in?


I’m old.

Shut up.

I just barely and I mean, by a year, maybe a semester, missed the experience of having to go to a table and wait in line to register at the UW Madison where I got my undergrad degree.

Times they do change.

I was going to get up early and go to yoga today, but when I woke up I was too sore to do it and three days in a row is a good run.

Odds are that I will go again Thursday.

Four days a week.

I can deal with that.

But today I knew I needed to register and I figured it was more important to get some good sleep, rest up, get registered and do some reading for classes.

Of course.

I was promptly on line at my designated time.

To get annoyed.

The server crashed again and again and when it wasn’t crashing it was terribly slow.

I contacted the program director who notified the registrar and it was dealt with.

But not before I could get fully registered.

Last semester this had me in a tizzy.

This go around I was like, what ever, I’ll register when I get home from work and that’s pretty much exactly what I did.

And now it’s on.

Full load.

Second year.


I still have plenty to do before I get to the next wave of classes, but the days they go by and the weeks and I am sure before I know what hit me I will be onto my second year.


I must say.

I am so looking forward to summer vacation.

It’s not really vacation considering I will be working full time.

But without being in school full time it’s going to feel like I have so much time on my hands.

I am sure I will find things to fill the time up.

I’m definitely getting more excited about New York.

That’s for damn sure.

Four days off.

Out of town.

No responsibility.

No work.

No school.


I need to confirm with my friend that all is still cool with me staying in his place in Brooklyn and also, getting all the details on how to get into his place, etc.

New York in May.

Spring in the city.

I can’t even imagine it.

Focus Martines.

Let me at least get through the next couple of weekends.

The school work will continue to happen.

And, as I stated, a couple of dates if I can sneak them in and some self-care too.

Plus I’m looking forward to seeing my friends from cohort too.

One girlfriend is going to spend the night here on our last day of school so we get an extra night of hang out time.

And another girl friend and I are going to go to the Steampunk Masquerade Ball at NIMBY in Oakland before I hit New York as well.

Although I was tempted when I first got the news last week about my class schedule and the Burning Man conflict, to cancel on going to the ball.

I was feeling pretty sad about it.


I think it will be good to go with my friend, who is a Burning Man virgin, but wants to go next year, and play and dance and show her the scene a little.

And it will be a nice way to celebrate for me too.

I’ll dance and get some fire art on, I had a great time when I went last year.

There’s lots to do, but not that much right in front of me.

“My principle today is easy does it,” I said on the voicemail.

Slow down.

Is what I was thinking to myself.

My life gets pretty unmanageable when I get going to fast–losing my keys, hello–and I did not want to get caught up in that this week as I could see myself, even this morning, trying to go faster than I needed to.

There is no emergency.

There is no drama.

It’s all about having fun and continuing to take the next action right in front of me.

In an easy, relaxed, mellow way.

In fact.

The more I slowed down, the more time I seemed to have today.

It was really  nice.

Side bar.

God damn do I love Soulwax.

I forgot I had picked up this album into my music library and I am so grooving the fuck out on it.

Love music.

Love dance music even more.

Totally distracted by how hot this fucking track is.

Damn Gina.


Back to the regularly scheduled blog.


It’s a beautiful day, I have a beautiful life.

I’m happy.

Sometimes, yes, I am sad too, or overwhelmed, or there seems to be too much to do and not enough time.

But that’s Carmen time.

God’s time, though, there is so very much of it and all I have to do is stop trying to put my agenda in front and things just open and bloom and it’s amazing.

I really am in awe how it happens.

Doesn’t matter how many times I have seen it, getting out of my own way, and suddenly, ease and beauty, light, joy, life, magic, really, all right in front of me, blooming like wild roses in the woods.

God’s time.

God’s schedule.

I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Right now.

Right here.

Having this very experience.

So fucking good.

Luckiest school girl in the world.



I Need Some Arm Candy

February 23, 2016

I am all yours baby.

That is just the kind of message I need to hear on a Monday afternoon in between cooking three different things for the family, in preparation for the boys coming home from school and the grandparent visit.


I know.

They were just here.

And they are gone, as of probably about a half hour ago.

Only passing through San Francisco on the way to further destinations.

I actually have little gripe with the grandparents, the boys adore them and they keep them busy and it’s nice to see a lot of family interaction.


It is more work for me.

More wrangling, more cooking, more errands, more, well, work.

Fortunately, I was fresh as a daisy this afternoon when I rolled up to work on my scooter.


That’s right!

The SFMTA Child Care Permit is in affect.

I am now a scooter girl to work officially.

It was really nice.

And super faster than I thought it would be.

I had almost fifteen minutes to kill before I walked in the door at work today.

I had already had a super full and bright morning.

I wrote.

I read.

I ate a lovely breakfast and had lots of delicious coffee.



I did a yoga class.

Like that.

Because, you know, it’s a half block away.

I debated doing one tomorrow morning too, but really, four days in a row is cool, my body probably needs a little rest, though, truth be told, I feel more in my body than I have in quite some time.


That shit is addicting.

“I could get hooked on this,” I thought this morning as my body just collapsed in a puddle.

I had some challenges with my new gear, new mat is slippery, but managed to get it together and do a lot of the poses and really try the ones that I wasn’t even going to attempt even yesterday.

I have had three different teachers at the studio and I have to say they all have great teaching skills and though different, I appreciate the things that each has brought to the classes.

And the floating out the door after an hour and fifteen minutes of studio time is phenomenal.

I mean.

I am feeling alive and energized.



I did not have a late coffee today.

Although I am listening to some Radio Soulwax and that is upbeat–I have gotten up three times now to have a dance party.

I am feeling the need for some dancing, outside of my own studio, soon.

I got happy feet.

I have a happy body.

I also have a happy heart.

It was really sweet to get the message from my new friend that he needed some arm candy this Thursday for an event at the SF Design Center.

I was like.



I have some dresses.


And some new Fluevogs too.


Even though it’s a school night, I’m going.

I haven’t ever been at an event there and I adore my friend.

He’s super handsome, my Puerto Rican fairy god father, and tall, so heels are a must and I am just grateful to get to connect with a good heart and a fun heart and some one who is smart and sassy, just like me.


I don’t even care that the mom asked me to come in early on Friday.

The boys don’t have school.

I was like.



Didn’t they just have a full week off from school last week?

Oh well.

I can handle it on a Friday and it’s nice to get out early on Fridays and get the weekend started a couple hours earlier than typical.

That’s work.

School’s going well.

I have my reading dialed in for this week and some how, not sure how, even with all the yoga, I’m staying on top of it.

Grateful for that routine that I have got going with it.


I do think there’s less reading, either that or I’m just used to the style of writing now and I’m understanding the material better, I’m definitely kicking through it with less struggle than last semester.

So a little night on the town with Mister Fabulous is just what this lady needs.

I could use a date that’s not late, full of excuses, and desperately sending me text messages to see him again.


No thank you.

That being said.

I am open.


And ready for some fun.


Yes I am.

Maybe it’s the full moon.

Snow moon.

I had this vision (yesterday’s the daisy sprouting from the crown of my head was pretty awesome, I tried to replicate it, but I wasn’t in the same space at the studio today when asked to set that intention) of a bubble of light.

A crystallized sugar ornament.

Spun like a glass bulb.

Glenda The Good Witch couldn’t have wished for a sweeter bubble of light and candied phosphorescence.

I imagined it full of light and I felt myself ensconced in the midst of it.


A bubble.

A small light.


I am a luminary.

I illuminate from within.

Small parts die, burn away, and in the rebirth, the lightness ascends and I am swept up and warmly held, divinely held, swooning with softness and surrender.



Like that.

It was pretty nice.

And like I said, I could get addicted to that kind of feeling.

That spiritual high.

I accept that like every thing worth having, there is work, great deals of it, involved.

“Just show up to the mat,” I told myself today as I sat and tried to regain my composure after slipping on the mat more than once and feeling wildly out of my comfort zone.

That’s all I have to do.


Just show up.

And there it was the light.

I walked out of the studio loose and fluid in my body.

I lifted my head toward the sun and felt it’s warm loving caress on the planes of my face.

I smiled.

“Thank you,” I said out loud.

To the Universe.

To myself.

To the sun in the sky.

To my heart for doing the work to pump the blood through my body, this imperfect, perfect vessel for infinite light.



Not a bad way to start the week.

Happy Monday!



When The Boss is Away…

June 3, 2012

We have dance party!

Oh, yeah, that’s right, it was dance central at work today.  I joked with Kristin that all we needed were some glow sticks and an in and out stamp for the End Up.  It was that kind of kooky.

I got up, this morning, oh so reluctantly, man bed was cozy and warm.  I wanted to just loll about.  I did not have a snooze set and I was just drifting back down to dream land when a flock of wild parrots zipped past the window with their oh so distinctive gabble of parrot voices.

I roused myself, did my morning rituals and when I was finished with the writing and the prayer and the meditation I pumped up the stereo.

Because what better way to supplement two pots of French press coffee than some Radio Soulwax?

I jammed out all day long to my mix right off my Iphone.  I had it plugged into the computer and fed directly into the store speakers.  I busted a few moves when no one was looking and happily grooved out all day long.

I started out with 2ManyDjs, segued in Alex Roche, French House music, kited back into Kitsune Maison, detoured into G. Love and Special Sauce for some old school lovin’, then meandered over to Moussu T et Le Jovents for some nautical French music–Madame Marseille, then I circled back into the 90s with some Fat Boy Slim, snagging some loose ends up with a little bit of Everything But the Girl, and then I rounded out the day with Five Years of Dirty Bird.

Hot sexy.

The cat would not have been happy, he does not like “techno” but the mice, we were merry.  And frankly, working a Saturday short-staffed, those mice better get some merriment.  Especially if one mouse is running on little sleep from the previous nights excitement and the other mouse, moi, is expected to come in early and work late for Sunday Streets.

Sigh.  Sunday Streets.  But!  Oh, yes, the June Bug is gonna be in the city!  Ugh.  What I would not give for an hour romp with the monkeys at the park.  I am a responsible gal, though, and will be staying at the shop.

I was however, promised a visit from Mrs. Fishkin with the incomparable Eve and I got the word from Mama Grace that lady Juni will be coming by for a shop visit.  I am so excited to see her.  She is probably five feet taller and about ready to start 8th grade, is what it feels like.

I miss her.

I am also hoping for a Reno sighting.  And I will be bringing my camera with me to work to get some photographs of them.

I took no photographs today.  The small window of time that I would have had to do so was eaten up by a late walk in bike build.  He came in at 6:45p.m. to build his bike.

The shop closes at 7p.m.

A design together takes on the fast,an hour, on the average, an hour and a half.  I was had a design together that took almost two hours and I felt like some one had sucked my brain through a straw, spat it on the ground, and stomped on it.

I had to be in Noe Valley at the Starbucks at 24th and Sanchez at 7:30p.m.

At 6:50 we saddled adjusted and confirmed frame measurements.  He had already come in for a test ride and a frame sizing, so that part was easy.  What was not easy was what color frame.

That is always the difficult decision.  I pulled out the three frames closest to the paint colors he was looking at.

6:55p.m.  I tell him, shop closes at 7p.m.  I have to bring in bikes, I am now on my own, close down the store, flush out the rest of the people wandering in, do three quick sales–a light, a lock, and a messenger bag.  Shut the door and get through the rest of the design.

7p.m. Beth sneaks in the shut door, we are riding up to Noe Valley together.  This lights a fire under my ass and I tell the customer I have to be in Noe Valley for an appointment.  I cannot cancel.  We finish now or you come in tomorrow.

I am polite, but firm.  I will not sacrifice my commitments to this job.

I just will not.

And I don’t know how we did it.  I don’t know how it happened, but we built the bike, got all his information in the computer, and I got payment.  He walked out and I threw the computer into its spot, shot down the store, pulled the bikes in, peed, holy crow did I have to pee!  Ran around the store like a chicken with its head cut off, turned off the lights, locked the door, set the alarm, and clocked out at 7:22 p.m.

I made it to the coffee shop at 7:30p.m. on the nose.

Give or take two minutes.

I have no clue how it happened.

I do have some paperwork I will have to address immediately in the morning.  I did not finish it.  I just captured the order in the online system, made sure it was there and put it directly to the front of the line to address in the morning.

Ah, the morning, which is already close at hand, it seems.  Where I will be getting up an hour early to go to work an hour early, to set up for Sunday Streets.

So be it.  I did a good job today.  I sold some bikes.  Two.  I made appointments to sell a couple of more.  Two other customers came in and did walk throughs with me and will be returning specifically to work with me next week to finish up their designs.

And I danced all day long.

Because when the boss is away I like to play

House music.

Dance music.

Shake your ass music.

I sell more bikes that way.



I have been invited to perform again, Friday, June 15th @ Club 222 on Hyde Street deep down in the dirty ol’ Tenderloin.  I will be doing While You Were Sleeping and maybe another piece with Sunshine Jones.  11p.m. to 2p.m.  Come!


Blown Up

March 10, 2012

I just got back from Blow Up at DNA.

Hells yes.

This was exactly what the doctor ordered.  I will readily admit that when I got done with work and was headed over to the Church and Market area to meet up with my friends and fellows, my spirits were flagging.

It was cold and lonely and the wolves were after me.

But I rallied.

I ran into Krylon, who was looking fabulous, and it turns out he was dancing the floor show at the club.  That cinched it for me.  I sucked it up, got my groceries back home, unloaded my books and notebooks and refreshed the make up.  I put on my 2ManyDJs live Radio Soulwax mix and got my booty shaking.

I changed up my shirt, loose, and white, unbuttoned a little more than I would in the normal light of day, re-tied my shoe laces, rolled my jeans up a little and got ready to rally.

I did not even take a disco nap.  I was at the club by 10:30 p.m.


That used to be terrifically early for me to even deign to show my face at a club, unless I was still there from the night before, ahem, End Up, and I would have promptly left to go get liquored up or coked up or partied up before going back.

The club was not empty, but it was sparse when I got there.  Fine with me.  No line to wait in, bathroom is still clean and has toilet paper, easy access to coat check, and best of all, the whole freaking dance floor for me to break it off on.

And mama broke it the fuck off tonight.

I have not danced this hard in a long, long, long time.

My knees may be what is blown up tomorrow, fyi, but I still can cut a decent rug for an old lady.  I ran into Ryan Debonville, who looked smashing in one of his own gorgeous knit wear designs, remind me to go get one of his infinity scarves before his shit goes all Project Runway and viral and expensive, who was waxing non-poetic about the last time he saw Felix Da House Cat, when he was just a young man of 21.

Ten years ago.

Hell, child, you are still young, 31 is young.  I am pushing 40.

But I care not.  I got to dance.  I got to let it all out, let it all go, and get the holy hell out of my head for a good three hours.  I was in my body and I was transcendent.

I probably looked like I was smashed on E, but what the fuck ever.  I gave good entertainment.  I also had a happy mob of girls around me trying to vie for more of whatever I had going on.

That’s just the glow of good clean living, ladies.  You don’t want to “age”  you got to give up the vices.  And I’m not talking about just the alcohol and the drugs, but also the fat and the grease and the processed food, the Red Bulls, and the cigarettes, and the shoes that albeit make your legs look gorgeous, do not feel good on your feet.

Because when you are happy in your body, nothing will “young” you up more.  I felt ageless tonight.  And that was fun.

Right up until about 12:30 a.m. or so.  Then the dance floor got a little mobbed and a little pushy.  Large group of guys pushed their way up front to ogle the dancers on stage, they were damn sexy, this must be admitted, but to get shoved out-of-the-way by some pseudo frat puke who has less facial hair than I have greys (and although I have a few, I still don’t have many) can get a closer look at some ass that’s not interested in them anyway, means time to go.

Or, time to relocate.

I relocated.

I danced my way over to the water fountain, replenished the fluids and chit chatted with Ryan a bit more.  I also got to see Sonny, who looked fabulous, and of course the beautiful and luscious Suzie Q. who along with Krylon was putting on one hell of a floor show.  Although, the child could probably just stand up on stage and wave her left arm and we would all be enraptured, she is just 6’1″ of gorgieousity, and in heels to boot.

Then I climbed up on a box and broke it down solo style for a while.  The was probably my favorite part of the night.  Just getting on the box and doing my own thing.  I was still in the midst of the energy and the crowd, deeper into the music, and swathed in club lights and smoke.  I can feel the aches in my muscles more and more as I write and every little ache a sweet reminder of still getting out there and letting loose.

Far looser than I used to.

No drug induced mania for me.  No falling down stairs at 1015.  No cab rides home wishing the light was not coming up.  No lost money.  No new “friends”.  No running out to buy cigarettes and gum and sunglasses from the gas station.

Just revelry with the music and myself and my body.  Just being utterly in the moment.

Until some one else crawled up on the box and got all over me, but that was fine, it was nearing 1 a.m. and I was turning into a pumpkin.

I know it’s time to head home when I start thinking about writing my blog and how long it will take me to kick it out before I can crawl into bed.

But before that, before the night was said and done, I got to ride my beautiful glittery bike home.  Past the club kids smoking their cigarettes, past the guy getting a time out in front of the rear exit, past the cabs and the line of people just showing up to the club.

I glided home through the sweet cool night with the moon sailing next to me and the cold intoxication of jasmine flowers blooming in the chill.

I even rode with no hands for a little while.

Chet Baker is crooning to me and it’s time for another cup of tea.

It’s two a.m. on a Friday.  I am home, safe, sane, and danced out.

I feel glorious and graced.

Definitely graced.

Oh, and I officially have a secret crush from earlier this evening.


Repeat.  Wow.

A very unexpected surprise.

Dancing in my Jammies

March 3, 2012

Jammin’ in my pajamas.

Dancing in my room.  Rocking the fuck out.

How come I am ridiculously energized and ready to go lay one on the dance floor like no one’s business, and I have to work tomorrow?

I just have to chuckle.  I haven’t had this much energy in what feels like weeks.  I think I am finally settled in my place.  I have 2ManyDjs playing on Radio Soulwax and it is a dance party in my room.

I am dancing now.

Chair dancing, but dancing.  I had to settle the hell down and sit down and get to the blog.  I have to work tomorrow, I am covering a shift for a co-worker

Oh shit.

Dance break.

bahahahahahaah I am a maniac.

The best thing is this, I have not had any coffee since this morning’s pot of French pressed Stumptown Holler Mountain.  I did get splendiferous sleep last night and it was busy at work and I felt really useful.  Really useful.  I sold a bike, woo, got ridiculous amounts of paperwork done and sealed up terms with a vendor that I did not think was going to help us out.

And kept it all to myself.  I did not gloat my shit.  I did not look for admiration or props, I just did my fucking job, and if felt really good.  Usefulness does make for happiness.

So does wearing a jaunty ass hat all day long.  I was feeling sassy this morning and knew I was going to break one out from the hat collection.  I chose the vintage black bowler with black silk ribbon, a large red flower with black ostrich feathers and a tiny pink glass bird with pink ostrich feathers.

Oh, yeah, I don’t mess around.

I had me some attitude today.  I have no idea why.  My best guess is that just taking care of myself and getting into my groove and some sleep.  I am also down the amount of time I have been watching videos.

Every once in a while I can get a little gacked out on a show or series and I just do a bunch of down loads and drink tea in bed.  Nothing wrong with that, but when you see that you’re checking out, it’s time to get back into it.

I am also feeling clean and good about keeping my priorities focused on taking care of myself and letting others do for themselves.  It is nice.

And I am feeling delicious and divine and delirious and on the brink of something.  I don’t need to know what it is, but I can tell you this, my choices are slowly getting better and I am seeing it.  I am grateful beyond belief to be moving out of that place of reacting like there’s not enough.

Love, sex, money, snacks, name it.

There is!

There is freaking plenty, in fact there is so much that I will never be able to tap into it.  When I think that there’s not enough to go around or that I don’t deserve some of that cosmic pie I am living in fear.  I am not living in fear today.  I did a few things that I am proud of and it feels damn sexy to be honest and true to myself.

I was thinking about something John Brown told me while on a date.  We were driving up to Point Reyes in his truck and I don’t know what it was about the slant of the sun and the dappling shade on the road, the grass along side running past and the winks of diamonds playing off the water, but I will probably never forget how I felt on that truck ride.

I am sure that part of it was just being with John, I was pretty smitten and despite a lot of differences in outward appearances we were a good match for the time we hung out.  We had fun and it was good.

I was sad when he moved and I missed saying good bye to him.  The last time I saw him was in at the tattoo parlour, Mom’s, Barnaby was tattooing him, it was a gorgeous pink script tattoo on his chest that said “oil field trash”.  Got to love that sort of shit.

He was back for a visit and wanted me to join him and Barnaby and the girlfriend at a steak dinner.  I knew I could not.  I called Dia and freaked the fuck out.  Perhaps wasn’t until that moment seeing him sitting in the chair with the John Brown smirk on his face that it hit me, I am in love with this man and it is never going to go anywhere.

And I am dating some one.

And he does not live here, he’s only here for a visit.

I threw myself in a cab, cancelled via voice mail, and hustled up to St. Phillips in Noe Valley.  I only dated that guy I was seeing a few more weeks, but it was enough to carry me through John’s visit.

I have no idea where he is now.  And I have no idea if I was actually in love, love, or if I was just beginning to realize that what he had offered to me was an accurate picture of myself as a woman.

He reflected me back to me and it was pretty impressive.  He bought me coffee and had no problem showing me affection in public.  He took me out to dinner and picked up the tab and opened the door.  He asked me out on dates.  He listened to me talk about writing.

He shared what he saw.  He gave what he had and he told me the most profound thing–I deserve steak and oysters.

I had never thought I did.  I had never been courted. I had never been treated like that.  That day driving to Point Reyes with the sun splayed all over my face, leaving me starbursts of freckles that faded faster than my longing for another encounter, drove home a point that it took still more years for me to get.

I deserve to be taken care of, courted, loved, wooed.

Because it’s what I give back.

Last night as I was getting into bed, I heard his voice, and where ever you are now, Mister Brown, I blow you a kiss, I needed the reminder, “Carmen, you deserve to be bought steak dinners and be driven around.  Don’t ever convince yourself that you don’t”.

Just one kiss will make it better, just one kiss and we will be alright, just one kiss will make it better, and we’ll be flying high…..

Indeed.  Tonight I kiss myself, wrap a littlle hug around myself and I am off to the dance party in my room.

I’ll catch you tomorrow night for an encore performance at the Burnal Equinox at Public Works.

Now go get your steak and oysters on ladies, you fucking deserve to be treated right.


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