My Perfect Life Partner & Journey Co-Creator

Inspired By:  ‘Girlfriend Wanted’ by Matthew Gray Gubler

must love celebrating the seasons
impish
snuggling on a park bench
“and wind chimes”

prefer tall, but no matter
size
shape
length of hair, although. . . 
longer hair is fun

rapscallions
trolls
“Negative Nellies”
bigots
and ne’er-do-wells can lick toe jam

storytellers, musicians,
jesters, muses,
wishers, spell-casters,
daydreamers, star-gazers,
and the like

anyone with a psyche paralleling that of
bill hicks
bob marley
mia angelo
or mortician addams
please sit and chat a spell

trust no lawyer, judge, or copper;
won’t pass judgments until I see fruit.

must enjoy whistling
(the cockatiel insists)
food in bed
1980s rap and eminem

i sleep with 5 or six pillows
can’t sleep with the lights from electronics
staring and especially blinking
at me; it’s unsettling
all I want is
someone to hold me when I’m afraid
a bountiful harvest
and to make you laugh till you gain a six-pack

*****AUTHOR'S NOTE*****

i have only recently been introduced to Mr. Gubler's art & his writings.

see more of his works here:  https://gublernation.wordpress.com/

and here:  http://www.matthewgraygubler.com/

WRITERS' BLOCK

I really don’t know what I’m going to write about today, but I feel the need to express myself.

okay, this really sucks. I have been wandering throughout my apartment today. I might as well call it pacing as it’s only a 2-bedroom flat. As I’ve been pacing through,my place today I’ve been talking out loud & making all kinds of sense, like I do when no one’s listening. I told myself that I should be recording this or writing it, like I always do. This time, however, I listened. 

My arms & shoulders get far too sore for a lot of writing anymore, so I stick with switching off typing a bit at a time. I also have voice recognition software that I like to use when my muscles decide to scream. I have Polymyalgia Rheumatica AND Fibromyalgia, so there are a lot of things that take a great deal of energy. SQUIRREL! I got my laptop out & was ready to record some awesome things from me brain. 

nothing. Not a damn thing.

Blinky cursor on the laptop screen. Blinky, red light on the camera. Steady green light on the audio recording device.

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

WTF? I am a decent writer, story teller, & poet; where does it go when I deliberately want to say some words of wisdom?

I wish I were brave.

I wish I was able to leave my flat without fear (I have what I hope will be a temporary bout with agoraphobia—that’s another story for another time & place). I’m not so much afraid of people or even being hurt by people (I’ve been through so much that I can’t much care about that part of my anxiety), as I am about my reactions to people being stupid &/or mean. I know what I am capable of, out of love, lust, & hate. For some innate reason I cannot keep shit to myself when I see mistreatment of animals, children, vulnerable adults, & the list goes on for freaking ever!!! I also cannot bite my tongue (why should I harm my tongue for your sake anyway?) when I see, hear, or experience racism, even though on many levels I am just as guilty as the next person. . .  hypocrite? Yes. but aren’t we all to some extend. The behaviors that bother us in others are usually the ones we refuse to see in ourselves. I see mine, & I can accept it. Sometimes it takes a minute, but I claim ownership for my shit. Whether I want acknowledgement of my good or I must make right an evil, I will eventually own it all.

Well, hell. That’s not even close to the “Tracey Gs Soapbox Schooling.” That’s more like "Moitle’s Melee Madness."

Christ! I’ll bet if I walk away a thought bubble will appear.

Times like this I wish I had a muse.

the privy!

There’s a plan, eh? Every writer & inventor knows that Ralph Waldo Emerson had it right when he sad that the grandest of thoughts tend to only come when one is in the outdoor privy or the indoor water closet (paraphrased from one of his journal entries that I read in my college days).

I may, or I may not be back.

End transmittal.

Boy Gets His "Make a Wish" & Helps Others Get Theirs, Too

While on Facebook yesterday, I saw my friend, Marie Givogue-Harty, post these pictures:  

I made the comment that most of them are real bikes, too (cuz I'm a Harley fan!). Meanwhile, the bikes were headed to an ice cream shop that I am very familiar with, Doc Bernsein's Ice Cream Lab from when I lived in San Luis Obispo County.

Although I am disheartened that the media chose not to talk

about how the boy got to the parlor, I'm so glad that the media

focused on the star of this show, a little boy named Matthew. Here 

is the video that the Make-A-Wish® Tri-Counties posted on 

their YouTube channel yesterday:

It was rather exciting yesterday to check my Facebook every couple of hours just to see this story. I stated that "they need to make sure there's a write up in the paper. bikers have such bad reps w/the media." I'm sorry to say that I have yet to find the group of bikers in any of the news stories, but that's kind of how they do it. They are angels. They take no credit.

Dear Stephen King

i just posted this to Mr. Stephen King's Facebook page:

you wanna know something, mr. king? ima tell you anyway. . .  i appreciate that i am old enough to remember having to write at a typewriter. i also remember having to manually print things on paper with things called pens & pencils (which i still do when i get a block of some kind--nothing "feels" better than expressing the feelings of writing as my heart/head flow down through my arms & out of my fingertips!!!-- it's like a magickal wand).

but, i am more appreciative of the keyboard, the laptop, the smartphone, & any audio device because of the aforementioned. i see young people today just clicking & keyboarding away. ..  publishing things online all by themselves w/o the annoyance & self-hatred rejection letters bring, & i think to myself that no one really has to suffer for the art anymore.

part of me is saddened by this. i can look back over my work & see where i was struggling in my life. i can look at your work & tell when you were happy, sad, angry, or even struggling with your demons (real, imaginary is all relative. . . they're all real in my opinion). will the authors of tomorrow really have to work for it? or will it all be simply regurgitation from the blood, sweat, & tears of authors from the past?

when i get blocked, your book "On Writing" calls to me. i have read it at least 37 times to date. i started ticking it when i bought my first copy. i am now on the 3rd paperback copy. . .  but i've transferred the tick marks. i reference it to others all the time. in short, thank you for being you, being real, being raw, being authentic. . .  you've inspired me like no other author, EVER!

ps:  The Thing of Evil is my fav thing online right now.

I AM Loved, & Love is the Name of my God.

Come sit down beside me
I AM said to myself
And although it didn’t make sense 
I held my own hand
As a small sign of trust
I sat together, with I AM.
Amongst my god, the angels,
The faeries, nymphs, & sprites.
Communin’ with Christ, in me, did I.
Perceivin’ how minuscule I AM in the body
Knowin’ the power of the
White blood cell and antibody.
So, I sat down beside me
And I trusted I AM.

~Tracey G, a.k.a, Moitle {March 20, 2016, Spring Equinox (Ostara)}