True Story

Decades ago...I found myself chatting up a comely lass. She was “heavy” into astrology. She wanted to know my “sign”. “I’m a Gemini,” I answered. “Gawd!” she blurted. “I’d have an abortion if I knew my child would be born a Gemini!” she exclaimed.

Needless to say, we went our separate ways. She to her astrological charts, and I to my garret.

Thereupon, I penned this verse:

A Gemini’s Lament

Stars, do not mock me!
I’m no tangent to some cosmic arc,
A simple astrological abstraction.
Do not vow that I am fated
To be inconstant, mutable,
Mere cloud forms and breezes.
I am passioned dust,
With heart rubbed raw,
And I have bled too much for that!

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Postscript:

"I’m a Gemini and Geminis don’t believe in astrology"

* * *

Major Fail

* * *

Gratuitous Non-Sequitor:

I REALLY do need me a pair o' blue suede shoes
(with 2-inch "Cuban" heels).

Seriously

* * *

The Landscape and Me

I’ve been quiet lately. I can cite more than one reason for this. If I could think clearly, I’d maybe even try. But I can’t. So I won’t.

What I can say is this: climate rules.

For days on end, my landscape has been cold and dreary and shrouded in fog. I've not seen the sun for countless days (an eternity). I wake at dawn to a frozen landscape enveloped in mist. I peer out the window at noon...to a slush-covered earth buried ‘neath clouds.

The dark comes early. I feel it.

The human heart craves sunshine and friendly zephyrs.

* * *

Many Rivers to Cross

(listen with eyes closed)

* * *

Just 'cuz...

it's late and I need this:

("Full-screen" mode, peoples! Volume cranked to "11")

* * *

"He adores her..."

The comment jumped out at me as I read the letter. “He adores her”.

Really!?!

I had to ask: “Is she adorable?”

I’ve been kinda stuck on the notion of adoration ever since.

I can’t come to any conclusions. I don’t know either party. I do know this: I, personally, am not worthy of adoration.

Frankly, I don’t wanna be adored. Not just because I’m not worthy. That goes without saying. But, even if I were (hah!), I wouldn’t want to be adored.

I‘d rather be appreciated.

Adoration, to me, connotes worship of the divine. Granted, one can argue that we are ALL divine, but that’s a bit too metaphysical for my taste at this late hour.

I’d rather be appreciated. One human contemplating another.

* * *

Gratuitous Non-Sequitor:

I learned a new word several days ago: Anatidaephobia

Anatidaephobia is defined as a pervasive, irrational fear that one is being watched by a duck. The anatidaephobic individual fears that no matter where they are or what they are doing, a duck watches.

I haven’t slept well since.

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