I went gay (as in happy) at the end of this puppy

My back has been so twisted lately, I can barely stand to sit
down for more than a few hours. It very well could be this new
transcription gig, which inevitably plants me in front of the computer
for like 5 hours at a time. I basically end up breaking up the time and
sending/reading/checking e-mails like a brutal  psycho. Mostly
it’s to escape the pain. After all, I were to get up, it would
certainly result in my passing out, or picking up a paintbrush.
Sometimes I leave the tv on to push the idea that I am not alone.

But yes, of course I am. Except for the small portable love machine that tries to sit on me wherever I go.

Ugh. I don’t want to have to spend hundreds of dollars on a chair to
support my scoliosis ridden spine. I don’t have any fucking money to
spend on dog food for crying out loud. But I am sick of sitting here
and getting walloped with  serious spasming, pinching pains near
my shoulder blades. I know it’s because my hip sits higher and knocks
any straightness I can muster off.

But it really hurts, I’ll tell ya. I have been having serious serious
horrible chest pains as of late. It seems that it’s almost time for
another surgery anyhow.

I really wish I could commit myself to some kind of island paradise. I
want to live in a state of mind and being in the realms of pure
ecstasy. Good sex, good light, warm skin, salty air, breezing ocean
wind, lots of scavenging, lots of exploration, colors of your brightest
palate, photography, painting, writing, biking, riding, and snuggling
up every night after a good day of all of this only to wake up the next
morning. The familiar smell of sandalwood and coffee greeting you each
time. You trudge across the wooden subtle sandiness of the floor boards
to wrap your arms around him, looking out the window to whatever
mysterious creature has planted itself onto mirror of your scooter.
Your wardrobe consists of many light white cotton pants, dresses, tiny
camisoles and thin leather sandals.  You wear many colors in
jewelry, and your body itself a great jewel, is becoming more and more
sparkling as the years go on. Your hair is long, and you wear nothing
but sparkling lip gloss. Sometimes you break out your little blue
sundress, for those occasions when you might hit town. You skip along
the cobblestone streets, hand-in-hand with your lover. Your sandals are
off and he’s carrying them for you. You are drunk on frozen margaritas
and pina coladas, and when you kiss, there’s always the faint hint of
sweetness. You don’t think that you will ever ever taste anything so
sweet, again. You  spoon cinnamon chocolate cake onto his face and
he laughs.

You stumble home in the darkness, lips sweet with Kahlua or
sugar,  and fall onto each other in a heap, laughing. He pulls
your dress up to kiss your scars, something you are always afraid make
you ugly.

You wear elvis shades during the day, whether you are
snorkling or painting on the beach. When you walk down the sandy
beaches and run into others, the people always look at you as if you’re
somebody. But you aren’t, you’re just like everyone else, but happier.

Social Bookmarks

Hide Sites