Home

Shelter, the surrounding walls of safety and warmth.  I found you in this wooden structure.  As if every brick is only a skin that holds us together.

There is no way up and in except on foot.  The narrow pebbled path will bring you right to the front door.  Our house will seem modest, small, from the out.  Yet inside are lifetimes of love and laughter.  So big, so full.  The roof is peppered with moss, the eaves home to wild life and years of weather.  I found us here.  Our castle.

Open the door,  feel the smokey heat of a smoldering hearth.  Smell the whispers of a feast fit for my king.  The kitchen will never be barren, the stove never unlit.  Our friends will settle into the chairs, eating, drinking, knowing they are home.  We will grow old here, feeding each other, celebrating every day.

Sanctuary.

This is our kingdom.  Our rules.  No one will ever be turned back, we will make love in every nook, fill with memories every cranny.  I found you here.  I found myself.  I was surprised how easy it was.  To fill a space with us.

No night will end in crisis.  We will tear into crisp linens and build a fortress out of pillows.  You will sleep so deep that the night time will envy your starry eyes.  Our bed will float above it all.  Nothing can touch us here.

Wrinkled toes, hot water gone tepid while the days rinse away.  I will wash your back, get behind your ears.  You will brush the tangles from my hair.  It hurts but I let you.  Home.  Here with you.

This garden, wild, tenacious, ours.  We belong to each other.  Every shy crocus, a reminder that one season gives up to the next.  Every day a rebel cry.  It is ours.   The lights will always burn.  Home.

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Love Stories

Oh faithful, intrepid readers!  Oh how I love thee!  Oh how I want to smother thee in kisses, juices, blue words, baubles, and cougar furs!  Its V-day and though I loathe the idea that love in America gets only one lousy day, I am honoring this holiday with a post.  Start it off by activating the song below….now slowly work your way down the page….stopping when the mood suits to, um, linger over that special spot.  Give it all the time you need.  Love takes time.  Except when it rushes in.  And when it does, let it take over mother fucker.  Don’t try to stop what the Gods clearly gave us in lieu of immortality and wings.

Play (rightclickfordownloadsucka)

I fall in love every single day.  I used to fall in love at least twice on every Bart ride to and from school.  He would be sitting a seat or two away across from me.  I couldn’t just stare but I would glance, side long, when the rules permitted.  My imagination would carve out a long and humid story line, one that ended in a tear soaked parting.  My train route took me, for a thrilling 14 minutes, under the Bay.  It was then that our tale would unfold.  My stop always came to soon and with tattered hearts we would part ways.

The first time I fell in love….head first.  In a club, 16.  I walked up to him, informed him that he was about to get kissed, and he did.  I spent the next year growing up, fast, and loving him, deep.  That was a turbulent time in my life.  I nearly lost a parent, I spent some time homeless, I was acrimoniously divorced from my high school life.  And yet I remember that time as love soaked and exciting.  Love can color your life in the most wonderful of shades.  It fortified me against the devils of the world.

Love two- In eyeliner I scratched out my number, left it lodged in his door jam.  He called.  6 years later, two states, one dog, one cat, lots of love, lots of fights, we separated in a Hawaii airport.  His body scarred, my soul healed, calmed.  He held my hand as I fought off the demons of many lifetimes, he rubbed balm on my wounded heart, and as I won the battles, he lost the war.  The biggest tragedy of love is that we do the work so the next lover can reap the benefits.  He will always be the biggest hero of my life and I dream of him still.  I dream of a man that slams the breaks on just because he sees a dirt road that we haven’t been down yet.  Punches it down the path and lands us in the most beautiful, untouched grove of alders, even though we are late, and I am flipping, begging him to turn around.  There is always time for a new adventure.  Thank you….you know who you are.  You changed my life.

The love that came down the pike next was a bit, how do you say?, tumultuous? It was shrouded in a haze of unrequited, jealous, and strange love.  An ill fit.  I learned that square does not fit in circle.  I learned that just because you have love doesn’t mean you have friendship.  Lust is dangerous when you refuse to mine it for anything but sex.  But at least I learned.

What came after….my reward and my punishment.  All that was good in the world and all that would prove too heavy to bare.  Love is a powerful thing.  It will wake you up before the sun and keep you hungry long past the moon.  I would never seek a refund on what was so generously given, but the pain still gives me pause, years later.  My first true heartbreak, I never knew such agony.  His removal of love was like an amputation without anesthesia.  Surgical and brutal.  Bloody.   A topic commonly broached here is fear.  I never knew fear until this.  I was the one who thrust without thought, living for the thrill of love and longing.  Now…well…love left its marks all over me.  And now I run at the sight of it.  Like a survivor, I know that we will meet again, but I fear you.  I know that you can/will bring me to my knees.  In the back of my mind I remember that only the strong can bend knee and remain aloft.  Still I quiver at the thought.  My heart is a hibernating bear in spring, squinting at the sun, hungry, skinny.  Please be kind to me love.  I will give you more than everything.  But I will shake with fear as I do.

Let the idea of love rule all 365 days, let it ride you like a mustang, let it tame you, let it set you free!

Slippery When Wet

Fucking. Sexual relations, intimacy, coupling, mating, copulation, penetration, nookie, whoopee, coitus, coition, fornication, carnal knowledge. Doing it….not doing it.  You ask for it, you beg for it, you pretend you don’t want it, you need it, you don’t need it.  What you do to get it, what you do once you finally do get it.  What they say when they know you love it, that you will drop the act and just request it.  How you look after….hair like a tornado, panties far flung, sheets marred, blood under the skin.  How you feel after…divorced from artifice, emboldened, bare.  What you give up when you fuck….power, fear, dignity, loneliness.  What you get when you fuck…pleasure, release, peace, fear.  Age brings you closer to the source.  You know that making love is tied only to the moment that you make it.  You also know that semen is not the only residue left behind.  The price you pay for soothing the ache…the going rate.

I love that you are naked.  Even when you’re not.

Scared Money Don’t Make Money…..

 

How do you feel?  Are you scared?

 

The thought was that we are swimming and consistently drowning in black times and I am by and large over the propaganda that accompanies it.  I suppose that I do want to know what is going on out there….far, far beyond the Wyoming skyline.  I do.  I am proud that “occupy” is a word on the lips of my peers.  And sadly, I am slightly interested in the happenings of our crystal tower entombed leaders.  I am just worn down by the fact that every stitch of news paper/news casting is a hooded, scythe-wielding harbinger of apocalypse.

You know that thing that happens when you hear some saying frequently it becomes apart of your fact lexicon?  Here’s one of mine…the human heart/mind can only truly feel one genuine thing completely at a time.  And if that emotion is sadness or fear or some other heavy thing, that is what you are in that moment.   I also believe that you can change how you’re experiencing life by insisting on contentment.  Changing things requires effort, patience, and guts.  But it also wants a bit of blind faith and unrequited love.  I thrive when surrounding myself with hopeful, brave people and things.  Beauty insists that I nurture beauty and delight compels me to share delight.  Perhaps if our needs were a touch simpler and our reach, though smaller than we had hoped, was a circle that can be seen from the comfort of our happy homes…shoot.  Who knows?  I just want to enjoy my life, not sightlessly, but clearly and without the fear that is piped into our heads every day by a people that’s only job is to scare me into voting/fighting/believing in and for men that can only call greed a friend.

We all contribute in our own ways.  We do this by letting our feelings show.  I come by way of fun, beauty, struggle, and language.  How did you get here?  Where are you going?  But most importantly, how do you feel?

I feel inspired.

I feel mystified.

I feel naughty.

I feel gangster as fuck.

I feel too big for this world.

I feel like an outlaw.

I feel angry.

I feel ready.

I feel a piece of the whole.

Staying Warm is like falling in love.

Packing for this journey was a delicate endeavor.  I undertook it with an eye to glory.  This method landed me in a snow bound ice box with 16 pairs of zero traction cowboy boots and 7 capes.  Ever the romantic.  Never the wiser.  So now I close my eyes and imagine how I will stay warm in this town.

Gypsy

I will reside in a cozy shack swathed in bear skin furs and wild roaring fires.

Swagger.  I will definitely swagger.

Frolicking will happen.  It really loosens up the muscles.

I will wear lots of denim and I will seek men that do the same.

I will share my body heat, for the cause.

I will snoop and gather.

I won’t hide my body.  It is wonderful and warm inside.

I will find heat in the nooks and crannies.

I will stay gilded and golden.

 

Dear Readers,

This blog is the warm and honest center of my life.  Thank you for putting up with my hot and cold disposition.  I am grateful on the daily for having a voice and some ears to hear it.

Love,

M. Josi

Visualized

Living apart and at peace with myself; I came to realize more vividly the meaning of the doctrine of acceptance.  To refrain from giving advice, to refrain from meddling in the affairs of others, to refrain, even though the motives be the highest, from tampering with another’s way of life.  So simple, yet so difficult for an active spirit.
— Henry Miller

As soon as we start putting our thoughts into words and sentences everything gets distorted, language is just no damn good—I use it because I have to, but I don’t put any trust in it. We never understand each other.” — Marcel Duchamp

“The odds of not meeting in this life are so great that every meeting is like a miracle. It’s a wonder that we don’t make love to every single person we meet.” -Yoko Ono

“Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.” — James Joyce, Ulysses

Stand up, stand out, on shoulders, on mountains, on faith. -Me

I hear you knocking

I have this friend who consistently chastises me for not taken the bedraggled body of our world seriously enough.  She tells me that I am blind to the state of affairs outside of my door.  She’s right.  The windows to my soul point up not out and my door stays firmly closed against the rising tides of despair.  There is this constant onslaught of information, some of which keeps me current, the rest of which makes me want to grab a razor.  It’s like pricking a hole in a balloon, the air doesn’t just squeak out, the whole thing blows up in your face.  Scaring you half to death and leaving you without a balloon to fly away on.    As I do my best to keep the worlds troubles at a manageable trickle, I am taken by the need to balance it with things that comfort me.  Like teen love movies and Jodeci.   (I will not apologize for being nostalgic, so don’t even bother.)  So today, on a day when the world is heaving with revolution and Portland is (embarrassingly) having a snow crisis, let us find some joy in something aside from self mutilation.   In reference to the media deluge that you are faced with……

Just remember, when you dance with the devil, you don’t change the devil, the devil changes you.

It is amazing how great photography eliminates the need for editing.  You can’t confuse talented camera work with photoshop.   Some photogs worth checking out- Ellen Rogers, Saga Sig, Sally Mann, Elliot Lee Hazel, Imogen Cunningham…all of which will be shown on this blog ad nauseaum.

I never tire of female nudity, flesh, paint, or painted flesh…

Or pretty geometry.