Blah Blah Blog

i was just thinking about the absurdity of making BIG plans. right now, there is something about BIG plans that feels really cramped. on the other hand, my small plans to be near water at least once a week, to be outside everyday, to listen to birdsbugstreesleaveswindbarkslaughs in the park as i watch the sunsetmoonrise seems pretty large. eventually i'm gonna have to return to the land of big plans, but i hope, this time, to bring the small plans along for the adventure.

Peace from The Lise

Comma Man

You will have to excuse my previous blog. I've gotten into this [bad?] introspective habit of being really heavy and analytical lately. I really ought to get a snapshot of myself pulling my underwear out of my ass or swanning out of a pubic bathroom with long ribbon of toilet paper stuck to my shoe to undermine the needless pathos. It's summertime fercrissake. In the mean time, perhaps this will do, sort of. While I am clearly showing off my new yogic powers (this is pretty much the sum of my accomplishments for the year 2010, thusfar) at least you can see how my undies might become lodged in the glutial fold in the first place.

So back to my gravitas. It's like I should end every sentence with ", man" as in. "It's been a rough year, man." Dju see it? OR "I don't know what's happened to me, man, I used to be so much fun." I snuck it in there in the middle - literary device alert - of the sentence [, man] And while I don't actually say "man" after a brief pause (as indicated by the comma,) it's definitely there, like the silent "h" in a lot of French words. Oh, how's this for heavy: "I've really got to work on not being so heavy" (silently) comma man. See how it Pepe Le Pew's me bigtime (silently)?

Moving along. I plan on blogging about tomatoes in the near future. I think it will be rather light and include a recipe for Gazpacho, man.

Compromises

I was thinking about Love and all the bargains made between lovers. How awful to ask One to be less than their glorious Self to appease the insecurities of the Other; and the soul killing that happens when that demand is met. I don't think that is love. I met, briefly, one Beloved whose sole message to me, in a single kiss, was a plea to never, ever enter such a contract. The Messenger is gone but the Message has taken root. I think how cheaply I've sold the things that I treasure most about myself in order to be acceptably and safely lovable. I think I'd rather be alone the rest of my life than to enter in to another such arrangement.

Surely there are Other Ones whose fealty thrives on a daily renewal of freedom.

I'm just saying...