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Valentine's Day dinner, made by the both of us: Alaskan salmon that we dipnetted last summer with an Italian caper-olive-anchovy-parsley sauce, buttery milky polenta with parmesan and pepper, and asparagus parboiled in white wine vegetable broth and then seared in olive oil. I have a wonderful life partner for whom I am so grateful. That, and a little bit of extra sweetness and something homemade, is all I need on a day like this.
PIECES OF A CONVERSATION I WILL NEVER HAVE WITH PEOPLE WHO DON’T KNOW I REALLY WANT TO HAVE WITH THEM.
Now, come on, don’t tell me that this isn’t joy.
Don’t tell me that this isn’t happiness.
Don’t tell me that all that went wrong last time around came from me.
Indiscretion and deceit came, they came from my side, but fault lay with us both you know. There was frustration and anger underneath those lies of mine. No excuse I know, but an explanation nonetheless.
So, here, take a look at this, look into those eyes, look at that smile. Do you think I have the imagination to make that happen? Do you think I have the power to take it away? Do you think I was wrong to search for this? This is hers. It will never be mine, it can’t be mine but I am part of it. I am there in that room, with that body, with that movement, with the dancing and the laughter.
Seriously, I ask you, hell, I’m telling you, look into those eyes. Don’t pass over them quickly; don’t look away after a few seconds. Look at those eyes.
Now, if you do that for me and then you tell me that this is just a picture, just a snap, a photo, well I’ll know you never really got it. On the otherhand, if you tell me that this is a moment captured, that you understand that the movement that flowed before and after the shutter clicked comes not from modelling work or camera skills but a heart at ease and a happy home, then maybe I'll sit at ease.
All that stuff you said, about her being a nice girl, about me treating her badly does it still stand? All those insidious accusations that were gently placed before me, that I abused her with blunt words and folded arms, do you still think they carry any weight? Now that you know that this is what I was seeking from life, and I tell you honestly, from her, do you still want to carry that flame for her?
I was angry, once. I was furious for a while. Even after I was caught up in this new world of mine, even when I was laying the foundations of a happier home, I was angry. Angry that I let the story end with such a clichéd, tattered ending, angry that my actions let you all fold your arms, tut your pious tuts and align yourself on the side that no longer had a say.
I’m over that now, it’s a fight I don’t need to win. Not with you and not with her. What’s more, if any of you wish to pick up that cudgel once again, wants to re-open that debate, take a look at who I have standing not behind but alongside me. Take a look at this shot, take a look at the life, the energy and the love that danced for me that night and is dancing still. Should the come time she’ll fight for me too. Do you really want to take her on? do you really want to take us on? Do you really still think that I was wrong?
Walking back from lunch I saw Homer Simpson, who is one of my favorite characters. When I looked through the lens I noticed the monkey below him. Seen on the antenna of a van. I love this kind of stuff.
Steel plate engraving from The Home Affections as pourtrayed by the Poets, collected by Charles Mackay 1866.
With engravings of pictures by prominent artists, engraved by the Brothers Dalziel.
Published by George Routledge & Sons, London. Blue and gilt embellished cloth binding, 359 pages 23cm x 17.5cm.
say hello to yesterday's entry for the halloween countdown on www.thevenusmonster.com! check out the past 13 days and bookmark it because i'll be having some giveaways coming up soon!!! ♥
When I get home, Lily always greets me at the door for a friendly conversation. For everyone else, though, she sharpens her claws. Don't take it personally. After years of training with the secret service, she's a bonafide watchcat, and it's hard for her to change her ways.
A certain gentle light
can carry everything
into the desert
my soul returns to.
Without you,
no flame of love,
no tree of blessing
reaching across the
hidden field of night
to breathe me
quietly home.
©Laura Sorrells 2012
all rights reserved
C’è qualcosa nella morte
che somiglia all’amore.
Se per qualcuno con cui avete conosciuto la passione,
e il fuoco dell’amore giovane,
anche voi, dopo anni di vita
insieme, sentite estinguersi la fiamma,
e così svanite insieme,
piano piano, lievemente, delicatamente,
l’uno nelle braccia dell’altro per così dire,
uscendo dalla stanza consueta-
quello è un potere di unisono fra le anime
che somiglia all’amore!
(Edgar Lee Masters, Antologia di Spoon River)
I spent about an hour with Miss Scruffy, telling her, "if you don't like it there, my cell phone number is..."
Have a wonderful life, my heart.
How did we get the same hair?
Daayan and I .. :)
i sneaked up behind her while she was doing her makeup to get this picture...:P
wish i could do something about the blur.. sigh..
for once a picture where we look half sane :D
When I was a tiny girl, my mom would always pick me up and set me beside her in her large comfy chair. I would curl up in her lap, holding a piece of her silky nightgown (the one I am wearing in the photo) or robe in my hand as I fell asleep. It was so comforting for some reason and to this day relaxes me if I feel restless. I am no longer small enough to fit in anyone's lap, nor do I have my mother or the chair, but I find the same comfort in the memory of her and the love she had for me. I miss my mother so much these days and so, naturally, this prompt brought about memories of her before any others. :)