Archive for March, 2013

A Prayer To The Sun

As you peek through the bleak
Clouds of winter
I long to feel your rays upon my face
The buds will burst, full of thirst
For sun and rain and all they’ve missed
Amidst the soil.

I emerge anew, coming through
The sludge and slop
To a small pasture on a hill
The vista beckons and my heart reckons
Nature wouldn’t give me something so beautiful
As a memory
As a heart
As a love
As a passion
Just to snatch it from my outstretched hands.
I have too much reverence for this light –
Was my worship of the sun too cavalier?
Do not let the sun go down on this life yet, please.
Just a few more dawns,
I promise I will be as appreciative as I’ve ever been.
Bless me with your golden rays.

I will go when I am to go, but knowing me it probably still won’t be without a fight.


Let It Be Known I Will Rise

I Am Strong

Well, fortune sometimes scorns the hopeful.
I once took statistics; guess I’m just as likely as the next one
To be susceptible to things such as
At the
Of someone who seemed so promising.

Promising is not a binding term,
Although if one looks at its homophones
One might be able to dissect the possible intuitions
A certain one potential
Had that might have had that would have inspired him to take flight.

I wasn’t asking for any sort of promise,
Except for that of interest and integrity.
Isn’t it something
To be swept up in enthusiasm
Only to find that the other
Read “too far” into that earnest expression of

Initially, I worded an apology for being so intense.
Except that what I am remembering is that
Many suggest – preach even – to hold your cards close.

Listen, the only way to know how to play the game
Is if you know what the cards look like.
It’s awfully hard to play Hearts if you’re holding an Uno deck.

All I’m asking is for you to play a game with me.
We can make up our own rules!
Please, that’s more fun anyway.
I’m not sure I’ve entirely liked the games I’ve played with other people,
Although of course there are rules I want to bring along from those
[ like kissing in the rain! ]
So stop misconstruing that you already know the rules.
We have yet to make them up!

Aren’t you an actor, for chrissake!
The world’s our stage, so grab a damn sword, Lancelot!
How are you ever going to prove you’re the bravest knight if you run away?

Or, as any resilient strong willed, frequently misunderstood human would do
[ can you tell I had practice as a child on the playground;
Social interactions have always been such a crapshoot for me. ]
I will go find someone else to play with.

Fuck you, I’m awesome.

Future Ink, I Think


Lest I forget who I wish to keep becoming.

I was cavalier in welcoming spring, such that I forgot to cover my heart chakra and look where it got me? My body fails me at the time my schedule cannot allow, and my heart tugs for someone equally busy and it is too soon for that kind of hope. 

I’m ready for an overhaul. I’m ready to leave these jobs that I’ve been experimenting with and to find one money maker that allows me to pursue my art in the meantime. I’m ready to let a few of these plates finish their spins and then pack them away in boxes. Good for me for saying yes, I will, and for staying open to the idea that other pursuits might be useful. I have tried it and now I know. The problem is whether I will remember I know as such the next time someone asks me to do whatever it is that is similar enough to what I’m doing now and hating; I am the number one culprit of “Maybe it will be better this time. Things are different now, after all.” I am a serial optimist, after all. 

Honey Jay seems to have disappeared. My other dancer, however, is interested in continuing our dalliances, and his suggestions of where we could go are enticing. The complication is that a new gentleman has entered the picture and I don’t know what to do. Let’s call him Gorgeous Gentle Giant or GGG (and for those of you who know Dan Savage, you will understand how else that acronym could be applied and I will happily tell you that he embodies that too) and guess what! He may or may not be a reader of this blog. Meh. If integrity is to be desired, then I suppose the secret sexcapades blog may be a good thing for him, or future honeys, to stay abreast of if so interested.

I hadn’t thought I’d be so ready to jump back on the relationship wagon, but I think that checking in with my notch number and having to reflect on all those experiences has jolted me back into alignment of what I’m looking for. 
It’s never changed, for the record, because it always was kindness and affection from interesting and dynamic individuals, but I have been suppressing an integral component in my defensive and healing phase and that is devotion. I want to pour all of this affection I have here, brimming at the edge of my fingertips and my cherry lips, into someone else. Let it course through his veins, protecting him and invigorating him and fueling him to be the best possible person he can be. Let him caress me and kiss me and care for me in whatever way I need, enough but no more than that. Someone with whom to pack survival packs with for an epic romantic adventure to … I don’t care! The mountains, the valley, the Europe, the city, the family farm, the tundra, the bush. Come with me. Hold my hand. Help me up and I will kiss your eyelids as you fall asleep in my arms. 

In the meantime,
I’m struggling to breathe without a wheeze,
to maintain my aim when the weapons I’m being handed are made out of rubber,
to find that men are kind and not just looking for a naked grind.
To remember what I’m good at,
to distill out what is innocuous,
to render myself spent but not weary,
busy but not frantic,
and valued but not idolized. 

I’ve been pondering Self-Care v Motivation a lot lately, most recently as I dragged a razor blade against shins for the first time in weeks. Do I shave for me or for the idea of him later? The answer is both, and then of course the feminist in me asks is that okay? And you know something? I think the answer is yes and here is why:
I already know he finds me beautiful and desirable with healthy active hair follicles. 
While I enjoy the phenomenon of being smooth, trim, and together, frequently there are other items that take precedence like sleep, work, Lionel Vincent, Ron Swanson, or Baby Beluga. But the anticipation of being touched, with skin as soft as a baby’s, is exciting and I am happy (especially in this sluggish snotty slump I’m in) to indulge in self-care, especially if I know it will add an extra oomph to my delight in being delighted in. It gets to happen for me because it could be for him because I would like to be in such a way should he decide to shuffle his stuff to be in my life. And even if he doesn’t, I’m still one sexy beast. So there. 

Catharsis, Come Relieve These Weary Bones

I have fallen out of writing about myself.
I have fallen out of writing about myself, for myself, and for no one else.
I started this blog as a space to tell someone else all the things I couldn’t tell PM
(even though I may have been entirely in denial about that at the time)
and I realize now that the loss of such dedication, such maintenance, of a private journal is one of the relics of this relationship.
He and I have just started talking again. I can’t tell anyone who knows all that we’re civil because they will think I’m softening my constitution, I can’t tell anyone who partially knows because they don’t care enough to want to listen, and I don’t feel like telling any more strangers. I’m tired of being that girl, who has that baggage, such that I’ve even stopped mentioning it to playmates except in the context of “What, you don’t want commitment either? Great! I’m toting around all this emotional baggage; let’s definitely not date; do not worry about me as clingy.” … which is so much better than being that hot mess of feelings, even if they refrain from including ‘weepy’.

I am still so angry at myself.
My roommate my junior year knew it; she watched and she spoke out and still I didn’t listen. God, all that feminist spine just crumpled. Wilted at the sight of beautiful big brown cow eyes that I got a jolt of electricity, deja vu even, the first time I ever made eye contact with. Is that just what I’m destined to carry as a curse; the ability to fall in love at first sight? See, while I tote around a whimsical mental list of future fiancés, I’d never had someone reciprocate. Or even respond to my pursuits.
What occurs to me now is that perhaps I misinterpreted his general ambivalent tone to mean compliance, or even interest. Did I think I snagged the world’s biggest procrastinator, the world’s biggest shmoozer, the world’s best politician (oh my goodness if he ran and had good political stances I’d be his domestic partner in a heartbeat. he’d actually be getting stuff done and I could do plenty of “culture” to give him mad bonus points and I’d get lots of funding in return! For the arts! … this entire idea, for the uninformed, is ludicrous because PM is about the least actively ambitious people; he is all talk and no walk. Unless it’s to the fridge to get a Diet Pepsi … or a beer. And so when I say that I’d be the wife to his politician, I actually mean it. Because his pursuit of something like that (while of course a popularity contest and pats on the back all around if you were picked team captain for kickball!) would mean that he was … getting something done. For someone, maybe, just maybe, other than himself.

So what am I doing for other people that’s not for myself? Isn’t an unpaid internship, rather than merely being free labor, a complete and total desperate attempt to say PAY ATTENTION TO ME PLEASE I WILL DO ANYTHING EVEN BARTER MY GOD GIVEN TIME AND TALENT TO YOU FOR NO RETURN EXCEPT THE VAGUE PROMISE OF TOMORROW IT BECOMING BETTER?? (Mind you I just wrote an article for an up-and-coming socio-political blog about this. See if you can find it.) … I don’t want to get into that now, except to say that both of the design jobs I’m doing are for theatre companies whose missions I believe in aka they produce new work potentially by people like me, ergo one day me if I keep sucking cock. Does the cock taste good? This time better than last time, but ain’t that always the way when you know what you’re doing…

My handsome harem, whom I can’t quite call my stable mainly because they are not all my subordinates I mean my submissives … they are good.
My one sub seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth, making me surprisingly glad I didn’t take him up on his offer for cyber-commitment … a sliver of my devil pries as to whether it was that lack of affirmation and public posession that has caused him to disappear but then I remember that his mother is dying and … that is probably why he hasn’t been in touch. Sometimes Lady Ray can remember her place. As a person. In the context of other people, rather than as Princess.

Some of them are swarming. I am overwhelmed, mainly because while I enjoy the attention, I want the commitment. Honey Jay, let’s call my ballerino sub, stood out (I think I’ve mentioned this right here before) at the beginning because he was paying attention and called me out. I stated what I wanted and he retaliated calling me out on fallacy. Which is funny, mainly because no one had ever questioned me. Probably because I’m trying to want what I can, in fact, have? Or is it I am finally wanted by the men who can’t or shouldn’t or oughn’t have me, but want me and pursue me anyways? Those guys are fun as playmates but I don’t want to be by myself all the other times…

My friends are busy and popular. And I keep trying to invite new friends into my space, but they are all busy and popular too so I either need to go out and keep them company in these spaces where they go for social world and networking, but I don’t need any more extension time out in to social space — I need the introvert’s Claritin — the one-on-one or maybe a group of three. And I know I could have it with someone I’m related to, many of them are just a phone call away but the phone is not the same.

I’m hoping the presence of this roommate will improve this, because it will be realfacetime with someone else. I’m apprehensive because she has stated she wants to keep all things separate, which is fine with me for food and toiletries, but for cookware too? We’ll have to clarify when she gets here but I was hoping to live with a buddy. When will my casserole dinner living partner come in? I think that’s living with someone you love. Whether you are also (sexually) naked with them is a different question. Or want to be, anyway. I’d like that, please. Whether it be friend, or honey. No more foes. No more discomfort in the home space. I am apprehensive but not without benefit of the doubt.

It is with heavy lids (after two early mornings for open calls where non union were dismissed after many hours of waiting idly by … I am also feeling discouraged in the world of one of my professions. It may be about time to start working on a very exciting, very ambitious project that I will be writing that I hope will embody everything that is to Eve Ensler’s Vagina Monologues AND Lin-Manuel Miranda’s In the Heights. Plus they both starred in theirs. Rock on.

I would like to start imagining my celebrity doppelgänger is Lucy Lawless.
Lucy Lawless in Xena: Warrior Princess. MCA
My first reaction: A girl can dream
My real reaction: …oh wait, except there are so many reasons why it’s okay and no one will actually bat an eye so calm your titties Lady Ray, you’re awesome.

It’s kind of awesome to be your own cheerleader.

The cure to cooking food you’re bored of is to make something that you do not know what the taste will be.