logb

Jose lessons were without a doubt subtle. My new being emerging replaced the worn out retread, the old tire kicked once too often. And all this smoothed out shimmery and new. A complete version of perfected self; reincarnated; risen woman, eternal Easter Sunday. A woman of substance for a man of substance. Very Substantial. Playing in the evidence act, a commitment which only Love could do, and do so way. As loved entwined like an easter basket interwoven design, never letting go.

"Call me woman, woman of substance" appeasing the affirmative. The mirror could trick me, and tick me off. Shattered and bereaved. Struck to the core. Sank my battleship heart. Recoursing, regenerating now. Jose's healing power. Words. Words. Words, every word he said to me. Better than reflected image, I could look in the mirror now and hold my head up and grin the knorros boy smile, I had all within. "Come Woman. Your are home" Jose knew the words. One thinking and stinking often sinking thought had crossed my mind; would he have always been here? Could I contain his earthern heart of stone? Back to me? Stone cold heart soup could be reheated if not refried?

Never an old dog learning new tricks, never giving up. To find the essential ribbon to pull and let loose the rainbow swirling goodness unveiled. Troubles and sins forgotten as the wind and sea churned them into butter. The one last time before the final curtain collapsed with the unendlng kiss. Double dog daring me not to do it. Not to change the patterns. Breaching the naked walking on the beach, searching souls for the perfection of life. No holds and no clothes bared.

Stripped of all illusion, reality deluded me for years. Barenaked and new I stood before my reflected self to accept wholly my weakness brought on by my human personification and multi-facetedness. Gleaming Diamond shining now so bright; eyes are brighter than any heavenly star. With no regrets, no more regrets, not this time. A change the wind, today I am the wind! Whipping up a cup of Jose. The mocha bean of a man. Pervasive, sublte, picante, with an intensity unsurpassed leading for more Jose. Cannot get enough of you. You are my beating heart, my everest breath that beats in my breast of the beast. Not to send in the double trouble dog dares of Makepeace Thackeray calling from Walden's Pond, do drop in, now. No men can stop this force, woman has won. All this mock embattleture finally coming together; crocheted, and knitting together so nicely. Fittingly!

Scorn of others replaced with subtle smiles and deliberate bowing eyes. Those slanted glances of approval, the almost wink, but keener than that. A subtle knowing I am doing the right thing. Finally. It just feels so right. No denying this has been a much headier if not the headiest feeling. I have got it right this time. I have never ever had a lover that made me feel this way, it is so surreal. So lighter than air and glitzy dreams of old Hollywood. If my agent and I were to turn down this offer, the fool on the hill never would forgive me. Pleading ever so the time forgot, stolen time from the sand owner. Serre, omn ni a pa mucha preta, manchua, intropa, proto via lala ohhhhhcha. If this incantation makes any sense. Time had a way of erasing all naive mistakes from the face of the earth as if some new set designer had recreated space and time just for Jose and me.