Archive for July, 2013

The Warm-Up Act for the Aristocrats (…or Low-Brow High-Diving)

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, A Womens Flower, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Cumming Back, Dirty, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Erotic Poetry, Fun, Imp Of The Perverse, Much Too Good For Children, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure with tags , , , , , on July 31, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

I had to push an oyster through a coin slot

to go on my favorite ride,

The Monkey with Two Backs.

The boardwalk was teeming

with inquisitors that night,

but I had a little Time to Kill

before we went onstage.

The sign said

You have to be THIS BIG

to go on this ride,

which should have been no problem,

until I learned I had to stand up straight

to qualify.

We did

The Monkey Dance

Like there was No Tomorrow

and for all I knew that night, there was none,

and if there hadn’t been

I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

By the time I got inside the theater

My friends were already

Performing like Porn Stars.

I stood there gawking behind her

as she bent over

leaning forward

on her knees,

swallowing

the Anaconda.

Her face was turned away from me,

but her blind eye

winked knowingly,

inviting me

to come inside,

like a starfish

doing jumping-jacks.

Mister Weasel’s French cousin

Monsieur Huis’elle was

Patiently awaiting

A nod, a wink

and a flash of pink

From Madame Huis’elle

(she is no mere Mademoiselle, to be sure)

to mount Jacob’s ladder

and climb

the Tower of Babel

to perch on the platform,

wings spread

like an Anhinga,

as I launched myself into the rafters,

poised for the longest of instants

hanging in midair,

I imagined I was

diving out of a midnight-black sky

so full of stars you couldn’t count them all

in a hundred centuries,

straight down

into a single clam

naked

Laid Wide-Open,

and slathered with salty butter

on two half-shells.

Ta-Dah!

(she was delicious).

The Talking Monkeys: Charles

Posted in Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Long Form, Love, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , on July 31, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

Charles

Charles raced back to his cubicle to avoid any additional occurrences being recorded on his schedule adherence record. On a fifteen-minute break, he was allowed a one minute “grace period” before he accrued half a point. Anything up to three hours was also half a point. Beyond three hours was one point. Sixty-One Seconds late for work was half a point, up to three hours; no doctor’s note, traffic citation, accident report or note from your mother made any difference; if it was an “Unscheduled Event”, you took your half a point, no exceptions. If you clocked off your computer more than three minutes before the end of your shift, you got half a point, but if you were smart, you waited for your supervisor to clear you after it was established that there were no more calls in cue. A supervisor could make your life a living hell if they did not actually like you, because by PharmaCorp’s rules, you were already fucked by definition, since you were only tolerated by The Management for as long as you didn’t bring too much attention to yourself, made them money, and didn’t cost them any more than anybody else.

It was not at all unusual for an employee to receive an “Atta Boy” (complimentary report from a member/customer/patient), only to have the call reviewed by a member of the Quality Management Team, and receive negative, derogatory, or disciplinary actions to be put in their file, to be used at corrective action hearings, or during yearly evaluations, when your pay raise, if any, was determined. Keep Your Head Low…Stay Below the Radar at All Times.

For every Memo or SOP, there is its antithesis, waiting, to be sited by Management, at their discretion to fit whatever agenda suits their purposes at that time. No Exceptions (…except at the sole discretion and express stipulation of Management, as determined by them, at any time, and without any further warning or written change of policy).

Charles had acquired IFMLA (Intermittent Family Medical Leave Act) certification for a short laundry-list of medical conditions that had been documented since he began to work for PharmaCorp.  If he was going to be late for work, or needed to take off too much time for his own doctors’ visits in addition to a number of other medical conditions for which his wife was being treated, as long as he had an adequate supply of PTO (paid time off), he simply needed to call out on the Attendance Line, call his supervisor, and then log onto an automated response telephone line run by an independently-owned contractor that took about fifteen minutes to record, if everything went well the first time…it usually took almost thirty minutes, even if you were prepared with the claim number, ID number, password, date of claim, time of claim, and type of claim. It was not at all uncommon to have the automated response system inform you that they had no record of that claim, and then disconnect you without warning or recourse. If it required being referred to a live person, that time would usually last about an hour. Believe it or not, although by comparison, Charles had learned how to use the system to his benefit; it still required him to document illnesses and conditions he had acquired while working for that system, and even then, your lunch and other scheduled breaks could get you fired. Twelve points in twelve months equals termination.

Last week, an associate of his had been fired without warning for too many accruals. Just like that. Came to her desk right after lunch and Security escorted her away to (In)Human Relations for a meeting, while another supervisor cleaned out her personal belongings from her desk, placed them into a white cardboard archives box, and handed them to her as she left the office, once they told her she was fired. No previous incidents, So sorry. Just like that.

Eight years earlier, he took the job thinking it was a temporary alternative… (to being unemployed). Freedom Medical Supply was then bought by Rexco, who was then bought out by PharmaCorp, his current employer. Four years earlier, he suffered a general nervous breakdown. Anywhere else, he never would have been able to keep his job. Here, hardly anyone noticed. He had been up and down so many times he lost count. Eighty thousand dollars in commissions, plus over thirty thousand in salary and overtime in one year, but less than half that amount a year later. Sixty grand gross the next year, and half that the next. He was back on the upside for about the last year, but any good fortune that came along just made him hold his breath as he prepared for the next shitstorm…not if, but when….

He often referred to himself and his peers as Lab Rats. As he saw it, they all were participating in a carefully controlled experiment in Human Engineering, to see exactly how much productivity could be extracted from a human being before it was officially documented and proven to be inhumane. Fuck the MLD (a pharmaceutical reference to the median (lethal) dose needed to kill one-half of its recipients.)…just wait until Congress decrees it to be inhumane, and then just claim “Who Knew?”

Just like the tobacco companies, except that in this case, psychological harm and mental impairment are very difficult to track and document in terms that the courts would find to be meaningful or significant. Similarly, being able to link cardiac, cancer, or diabetic diseases, or even erectile dysfunction to stress might prove to be even more difficult, no matter how obvious it appeared to the doctors who treated those employees. The healthcare insurance that PharmaCorp provided was a PPO, and the network providers in general had a distinct proclivity for avoiding addressing the issue in the first place. Most of the providers worked in the same building, and were sub-contracted by a single Management and Payroll contractor. It doesn’t take too long to realize upon what side your bread is buttered. Risk Management (Damage Control) Divisions work
hand-in-hand with Legal departments to push that envelope as hard and as far as possible, using seemingly unlimited resources and funds to discourage any challenges, even to what would have been regarded as flagrant violations of several civil rights and liberties formerly believed to be Constitutionally guaranteed.

How much time was spent on “personal non-work” (Bio-Breaks)? Management knows…to the second. How much time was actually spent “talking”? It’s also timed to the second automatically…. What was your “wrap-up time”? Tick, Tock, Tick Tock….What is your Adherence? How many conversions? What is your ratio of Rx’s per hour? What is your work percentage? Better hurry up, the clock is ticking, the recorder is documenting…Charles began to joke about “repetitive thought injury,” calling it “Cerebral Tunnel Syndrome.” All verbal responses, even the rebuttals, were very tightly scripted. If you stuck close enough to the script, you could even type while you rattled off paragraph after paragraph of required statements, legal disclaimers and other verbal mantras that no longer required mentation to recite. The script was the doctrine and dogma of the call center, and all heretics were subject to be burned at the stake (at the sole discretion of Management).

He would awake from bizarre dreams involving programs that wouldn’t open, or screens that populated with inappropriate information, all the while chanting the script. Then he started to notice that he couldn’t recall familiar names or words or terms that once sprang from his tongue like flushed quail from a bush…or his own phone number…or the name of an old friend.

It was the brain’s version of repetitive motion injury. He speculated it was from excessive stimulation of specific sets of neurons causing a build-up in acetylcholinesterase in response to high levels of acetylcholine caused by the rapid-fire stimulus-response mediated reactions to a very limited number of stimuli, but that was just his own best guess. After all, he was just a retired paramedic, not a neurologist. It just seemed to him that it was too much like stepping on the gas and revving the engine with the brakes locked and the transmission in gear. And that never even took into account the effects of SS/NRI (selective serotonin/norepinephrine reuptake inhibitors) that so many of his colleagues, as well as he were taking for depression. Charles once described the effects of these “next generation” anti-depressants as like experiencing a home invasion of your brain at the hands of party crashers you never met before, or having homeless people set up housekeeping in your attic.

He also began to realize the effects of the two-edged sword of stress and depression upon his general, as well as his mental health. Eventually he realized that after he could no longer feel anger over the daily offenses to his character and intelligence, the Depression would set in. For a long time, those seemed to be his choices, Unruly Anger or Compliant Depression. Eventually, humor proved to be his saving grace, although it frequently got him into trouble with Management, or rather middle-management, who became his nemesis over his “attitude”, fearing that it might “corrupt” the other employees.

Charles no longer possessed the ability to feel fear the way he had once felt it before. For one thing, Romance was back in his life in a very real way, and he and his wife were back in love and back on track as a joint entity in a way they had never experienced before, after over twenty years of marriage and three children, no less. Over the years, they had grown progressively farther and farther out of sync until only dysfunction and hostility remained until a series of intriguing coincidences brought them together again. Off and on, one or the other would try to revive the corpse of their marriage to no real avail. It was as if this was the one thing in his life that was so hopelessly fucked up for so much of his life that when he finally realized how easy it is to be happy and essentially fearless, a discernable calm passed over him that had been conspicuous in its absence. He said that Zen had taught him the difference between being emotionally dependent upon the kind of love that needed to be reciprocated from love that needed no payoff, that gave you pleasure just to give without expectations…now for the first time they were both doing the same thing at the same time for each other.

They spoiled and indulged each other in every way they could, even when they were broke, because acknowledgement, validation, appreciation, and some good old-fashioned idolatry cost nothing. As a result, it seemed like nothing threatened them anymore, as long as they had each other in the here and now. It seemed like they encircled each other in a protective spell of positivity that remained unbroken and imparted a state of mind that is infinitely calm and focused that generates, self-replicates, and attracts more Joy and subtle manifestations of power and peace into  Life itself. They became fearless as each became the other’s idol.

Charles was something of a Jack of All Trades, but he had developed a mastery of more than a few things that made him invaluable to The Home for Wayward Souls and in many ways, he could have been their poster child, and The Home for Wayward Souls was a perfect outlet for his energies. He generally shunned the spotlight, and preferred to play a more supportive but occult role. His expertise ranged from Music to Martial Arts, from Saucier to Security and Countermeasures, from Medicine to Mayhem, from Electronics to the Occult, Auto Mechanics and Gunsmithing. He could troubleshoot almost anything that was broken or inoperable well enough to at least to get you home on a wing and a prayer. He loved to improvise, and if anyone knew a way to make high explosives out of a stick of butter, it was him.

The Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls: The ArchAngels

Posted in Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Fun, Long Form, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , , , on July 27, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

The ArchAngels

Most of the members of the ArchAngels were college buddies Ash had known for years. When The Home for Wayward Souls became financially self-sufficient, Ash began contacting them to make arrangements to put them all on salary on a full-time permanent basis. Their talents and skills ranged from “professional” musicians who were proficient sight-readers who fully understood the fundamentals of Harmonization and Theory who had been schooled to players who were strictly “by ear” but who possessed an uncanny knack for keeping up with everyone else who nonetheless provided a great deal of originality and innovation that often took the best skills of the schooled musicians to interpret into charts and arrangements for the entire band.

Although the original ArchAngels rarely ever performed in any configuration larger than about seven members at any one given time, their repertoire was gleaned from over two dozen regulars, some of whom would appear at the last minute and simply “sit in” with the rest of the band who had rehearsed during the week. In similar fashion, the new, improved ArchAngels who performed on a weekly basis and rehearsed on a daily schedule were often augmented by guest players who were not paid who were usually long-time friends of Ash, as well as occasional guest stars who sat in just for “shits and giggles”. The Sanctuary was fast becoming known as a haven for innovative musicians and a prime venue to showcase their talents, as well as to just enjoy playing and exchanging ideas among the Avant-Garde of their field.

Although Ash had studied several semesters of Harmony and Theory in college and was not only a proficient player, but a skilled writer, the ArchAngels were like a comet that Ash had hitchhiked a ride from, and as bandleader, he often referred to himself as The Tail that Wags the Dog. He was as grateful to act as host, (just to be a part of a band that was this good) as his band members were to having a regular gig that paid reasonably well and provided healthcare and retirement benefits in a field where that had been previously unheard. Ash and Kali both considered the ArchAngels to be their family, and they were frequently guests for meals and other occasions. When there were sufficient guest quarters available that were not being used by either guest speakers or out-of-town celebrities, they were often in use by members of the band, who might not even leave the compound for days at a time.

His background singers, the Soul Chorus came from every genre, but all had to be proficient and knowledgeable in Gospel. As long as they could harmonize, improvise, and hit the right notes, they all brought something unique to the mix. One of the sopranos was schooled in opera, and had tremendous range and discipline, but could get funkier than a Baptist minister’s scrotum in July when the occasion and need arose. Most were either rock or jazz vocalists, but with that much talent, there was no room for prima donnas, and as a rule the ladies quickly learned you either had to get along or get out because if it wasn’t fun, and if it didn’t seem effortless, the whole point would have been lost.

The percussion and rhythm section bordered on organized chaos, because they frequently used two complete trap sets, congas, timbales, gongs, marimbas, chimes, vibes, tubular bells, steel drums and just about every other sort of noisemaker or toy that might appeal to a percussionist’s tastes. These “drummers” were by far the most animated, energetic, and childlike members of the band. They could get a little unruly or out of control at times, but they were also the driving force behind almost everything that they performed, and seemed to take it upon themselves to ensure that everyone was having a great time.

They also tended to be practical jokers that favored sight gags and physical comedy, which they often carried out extemporaneously during the performances, especially on Saturday nights. It also was not uncommon for the members of the rhythm section to trade roles, even in the middle of the performances, jumping around and changing instruments or seats without warning. Raphael, the bassist was the unofficial leader of the rhythm section because he was well-liked and good-natured enough to keep up with their shenanigans, but also highly respected as a musician who had an uncommon presence to him that could have been menacing were he not so affable. He made it easy to do what he told you to do, but if you veered off course too far you risked bringing out the gunnery sergeant in him…not a person you would want to piss off.

Neville was a Rastafarian who shared the stage with Grant, a die-hard Metal Rocker who claimed to be somehow related to Aynsley Dunbar, but nobody cared enough about to either refute or verify. The longer Grant was with the ArchAngels, the less he seemed to need to mention it; besides, he was becoming something of a star in his own right. Yoshi was a true master of tuned percussion from vibraphone to every manner of bell or chime, including steel drums, sometimes doing duets with Neville. Grant was the only member of the rhythm section that looked like he was chained to his seat. Neville and Yoshi would practically fly from congas to tympani and back while Grant laid down a backbeat as regular as railroad ties. Sometimes Neville would play counter rhythms on his trap set giving certain original pieces they had written a decidedly jazz polyrhythmic feel. It was also not unusual for them to press other members of the band into service if they were not actively playing their assigned instrument at the time.

The keyboardists were more like orchestra conductors, given the fact that they not only coordinated pianos, organs, synthesizers, and string ensembles, but they generally wrote the charts for the reeds and woodwinds. Karan also played viola and cello, as well as flute, and on occasion even performed on trombone, making you think of Glenn Miller (but only if you were either old enough, or happened to be a musicologist). She had what is sometimes called perfect relative pitch, because she had a very keen ear for intervals and could almost instantly identify which instrument…or voice was sharp or flat, but could still reference all the pitches, even to an out-of-tune piano if necessary. Ian was her perfect co-conspirator, and an understudy of hers who had been taking piano lessons from her since he was eight years old. There was an unspoken language that passed between them in the form of music that, so matter how polyphonic or abstract the tonality of one or the other one got, they effortlessly resolved the harmonies in a way that Ash described as a musical uroborus, although Karan preferred to call it soixante-neuf harmonization. Given her proclivity for…well, let’s just call it mischief; it was no secret that her best student had been studying a myriad of things under her tutelage, and although he was almost twenty years her junior, he was not the least shy about offering that “We make Music like it was Sex because we also make Sex like it was Music.”

Red played tenor and baritone sax, occasionally both at once, like Roland Kirk. A self-described electric be bopper who got his nickname because of his long strawberry blonde hair; no one had any idea how old Red really was, because to listen to him talk, you would think he was at least seventy, just by his fixation with fifties jazz and its jargon (everyone was a cat to him, for instance), but he had all his hair although his face had that bronzed appearance that no one except George Hamilton or a homeless person gets, including the leathery wrinkles. Mutton chop sideburns almost met the walrus/Foo Manchu mustache offset by a soul patch under his bottom lip. The only time anyone had ever seen him without his sunglasses and his hat was when Ash and Kali went to visit him in the hospital right out of surgery…still recovering from the anesthesia, they gave the hat and glasses back to him by way of the ER, knowing it would be his first request. He even swam in the pool in his hat and sunglasses, and it was rumored that he bathed and showered in them, although Sonja, his mulatto Puerto Rican girlfriend who put him in the Emergency Room after she stabbed him was unavailable for comment as to whether he slept or screwed with them on. It would only be a short matter of time before there would be a new expert on the subject, however, if any of them had been curious, since Red rarely ever was found wanting for female companionship for any significant length of time.

Ishmael played alto and soprano saxes, clarinet, and flutes, and had degrees in both Mathematics and Physics, as well as Music. Ish was a germophobe, although he was quick to point out to anyone who called him one that the more correct term was Mysophobia, (fear of uncleanliness). He carried a battery powered ultraviolet light with him everywhere, scanning for evidence of the presence of bodily fluids. It was embarrassing to be somewhere in public and witness him scan all the adjacent surfaces within his reach, but it was also disturbingly unsettling to watch him repeatedly confirm his worst suspicions and thereby make them ours as well. The truth is, most of us really don’t want to know all the things we touch that are somehow contaminated by urine, mucous, semen, vaginal alluvium, saliva, dander, miscellaneous insect debris, hair, sweat, blood, and feces, otherwise you’d be as afraid to get out of bed, as to stay in it. He was also a Sephardic Hasid. He felt out of place no matter where he went, until he joined the ArchAngels. The characters he encountered were perhaps a bit more bizarre than out in the rest of the world, but here he was respected in his own right as much as everyone else, so it was easy to do the same for them.

Since Ash was the bandleader and front man, he got plenty of opportunities to play flashy guitar solos when he wanted to, but Zack was really the HMFIC when it came to all matters pertaining to the playing, caring and feeding of the electric guitar. Originally from Nashville, and a master of everything from Country to Rockabilly, to Jazz to Metal, Shred, Grunge, and everything Jimi Hendrix or Eddy Van Halen ever played, he learned electronics and avionics during a brief stint with the Air Force during his late teens and early twenties, siting “creative differences” as the reason for his departure as soon as his tour was up. He drank a bit too much and practically chain smoked marijuana. He was trained in Shuri-Ryu Karate, an avid firearms aficionado, and a Zen Buddhist/Taoist who referred to himself as a Pacifist, although in truth, he was less Pacific and more Fist. He could somehow snap from being one of the most good-natured and patient individuals you could ever hope to meet to going right to the brink of physical violence without batting an eyelash or even raising his voice if threatened. It was spooky to observe. It was like he flipped a switch in his head that went from Poet to Warrior, but he rarely displayed any anger in the process, just resolution, acceptance and a certain degree of regret. He regarded violence as a “sad reality”, but refused to be a victim. He was a Zen Dharma Bum, part Redneck, part Shaman and Visionary, full-time Hedonist. He met Ash in a Dojo in North Miami Beach and they had been friends ever since.

Add two Roadies, Otis and Mickey, plus Lothar, the soundman and electronics wizard. The ArchAngels. Travel agents to a higher reality where Escape Velocity is Ground Zero.

Pandora’s Box

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, A Womens Flower, Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Conjured Up Next, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Erotic Poetry, Fun, Greatest Sorrow, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Love, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, Torch Song, What You Have Conjured Up with tags , , , , , , , on July 24, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

Pandora’s Box

We were children when first we opened Pandora’s Box,

Precocious, Curious, Unselfconscious,

and Unsuspecting.

We had already learned

How to fashion

make-believe armor

from Sarcasm and Cynicism

to cover hearts

Too tender

for their own

Good.

I remember the morning you stood outside my window

asking if I could come out and play.

The sunshine lit your smiling face like

Heaven,

and I had a new friend who made me laugh

and long for adventures yet undiscovered.

We found Pandora’s Box down in the basement

One rainy day in January,

but we took it up to the attic

to try to find a way to pry open the lid.

The instant we started

the most amazing, blinding light came pouring out

Like a nuclear blast

Bathing us in cool fire.

We were so excited

and couldn’t wait to discover more.

As we threw open the lid

the room was filled with Angels and Wizards,

Majic and Mischief, Dragons and Drama.

and the Music was from another world,

familiar, but unrecognizable

It mesmerized us both

 until we were hypnotized

in a trace from which we thought there was

no escape

because we sought none,

and Bedknobs and Broomsticks

would never seem the same to us.

When we opened Pandora’s Box

we created such a ruckus

that we were banned from both the basement and the attic

But once that majic had been let out

there was no way to get it all back in.

It just refused to go.

Something there is that does not wish it so

To be confined or limited

or be told NO.

But as much as I miss the box,

I miss our friendship more.

If it’s Love that You’re Running From, There can be no Hiding Place….

Posted in Acknowledgement, Fun, Liason Between Parties, Love, Much Too Good For Children, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Uncategorized on July 21, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

(Peter Tosh said that, because eventually all manifestations and phenomena seek resolution, or a moment of stasis, and Love is no exception…you can run but you can’t hide…because Love can be unrelenting. And infinitely patient.)

(Patience enables us to see beyond what is now, to focus on what could be….)

And your Problems, are no one else’s problems.

They’re only yours to Face.

Yet it is Love that unites us wherever we go, and no matter what we do.

In our hearts we can do no wrong,

we face no shame;

we know no guilt,

Only longing.

And the

Persistence of Memory.

The Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls: a work in progress

Posted in Uncategorized on July 21, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

It’s Sunday morning…just barely…and I have been up for a couple of hours. It seems…it feels like my latest project is developing well. No matter what I think I will use as a theme for the latest chapter, the final product seems to take on a life of its own, which I consider to be a good thing because I no longer feel like I am forcing some set of ideas into the story, but rather that I am extracting a story that is already out there, somewhere, waiting for me to chronicle. I hope it does have a life of its own….

Almost all of my posts for the last six months are related to this project, whether they are titled The Home for Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys or a number of poems and other entries, like my posts on Polyamory, In Search of Cinnamon or The Crush, because it seems that whatever I write begins to manifest itself and roost within my private life, which is becoming more than I had ever hoped before…to see my dreams materialize….

Whether I was trying to create in the medium of Music, Visual Arts, or Words I have often felt as if I was intercepting some kind of code, like Venus Gas Music that comes to me like radio waves, if only I choose to listen.

Emerson once wrote how genius stands hand in hand, and one shock is felt the whole world round…I wouldn’t know about genius, but ingenuity and creativity are subjects upon which I feel qualified to comment. I thought the other night that perhaps whatever it is that represents the vital life force within each of us that leaves the body when we die becomes the Dreams we dream and the Ideas we entertain.

Perhaps as we host those Ideas and Dreams and conjure our own visions from their inspiration we breathe Life into Energy, as well as momentary Immortality into our Ancestors…Mortality Extension?…It’s just a thought.

I hope you find this story entertaining as it unfolds; it is now my Journal. Feel free to discuss this among yourself(ves)…I’d love to get some feedback. I will eventually put them all in one folder entitled The Talking Monkeys and The Home for Wayward Souls, like I did Dancing in Dreamland, my first novel.

Share The Love Award

Posted in Acknowledgement, Award, Blogger's, Dave Matthews, Dream Theater or Jeff Beck, Goddess, Love, Peter Paul Rubens, Rain Tree In The Garden, Share The Love, Torch Song, Work for Someone Else, Works for any Major Corporation with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

SHARE THE LOVE AWARD

Share The Love Award

 

Anastasia aka http://astraltravler.wordpress.com/2013/06/15/share-the-love-award/ has presented me with this Wonderful Award.

In Accepting this Generous Award, I must complete the following questions and pass this Award on to no more than 11 Blogger’s.

 

1.  Name an enduring sorrow, something that has lasted for over a year.

The loss of communion and favor of my spouse, my Goddess.

2. Best song that captures an enduring sorrow.

Rain Tree in the Garden, or Torch Song

3.  Band with the best lyrics.

Dave Matthews

4.  Band with the best music.

Dream Theater or Jeff Beck

5. How do you relate to nature? I mean do you need it, trees, lakes, seas, mountains etc.

It is a part of me, and I am a part of it. We are One.

6. Appliance you cannot do without.

Air Conditioner and Refrigerator.

7. Have you ever been bullied?  describe it (if you feel ok that is)

Yes. Anyone who works for any major corporation already knows.

8.  Did you ever sleep with someone because that would be easier than telling that person or persons, no?  Describe that…if you feel ok   That would be just about every time…because I hate to say no, and Yes feels so good, and if the question is persons, as in plural, absolutely! I find it very difficult to refuse anyone, as long as there is some kind of attraction, and I love to see the best in people for as long as I can, unless they insist on convincing me otherwise.

9. Is there a painter you like?  Link please…

Peter Paul Rubens http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Paul_Rubens

10.  favourite you tube clip…link please

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQO-aOdJLiw

11.  Most masochistic thing about you…..this is me after all …. describe if you feel ok.

I keep going back to work for someone else…and, oh yeah, sometimes I also like to have my ass spanked (but not at work).

 The Award Goes To The Following Blogger’s

 

1. Alice In Wunderland http://aliceinwunderland41.wordpress.com

2. DominatSoul  http://dominantsoul.wordpress.com/about/

3. The Wistful Sinner http://thewistfulsinner.wordpress.com

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I want to be rich. Rich in love, rich in health, rich in laughter, rich in adventure and rich in knowledge. You?

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🎭दो चेहरें हैं,दो लहज़े हैं मेरे...और हर सवाल के दो जवाब "एक मैं जो लिखती हूँ दूजा तुम जो जानते हो"!! 👑Queen Of My Own Thought❣ #MyBlogMyFeeling

Analbarbie.

Meine Lust am Leben!

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Living to help other disabled people, and people in need, Change the sign!! And Earth

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This site is rated for MA audiences only.

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Analbarbie.de - meine Blogfavoriten!

Analbarbie - Bei diesen Blogs lese ich gerne mit!

Meine Musik^^.

Ich liebe Musik ... kann ohne nicht sein! Hier gibts alles über meine Favoriten.

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(Vive et vivere sine)² - Leben und leben lassen!

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Movie reviews and anything else that comes to mind