January 2014

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I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh

Charles Bukowski


Around the House


The wild hairs are grey. Sounds like a title to a poem, hmmm…

“Fake” typing: typing so fast that it makes me giggle and swear there are no real words being created.

Oh, but there are!

No cat was harmed during the making of this photograph.

L I G H T ! !

After fifteen years, I can finally “see” inside my closet. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Buddy!

And, no, I did not organize it for the sake of the photo. I am that kind of person.



I love my bathroom!

And living room!

And the view out the windows!

I think the one above the dashing crow duo is a non-breeding Audubon’s Yellow Rumped Warbler.

And these cool cats…



And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Kahlil Gibran


Good Friday afternoon to you, dear reader! How are you? I’ve got a belly full of dried cherries and am thusly content. Have I ever told you that cherries are my favorite fruit? Well, here we are again if I have. Yup,yup.

This was yesterday, happily eating a late lunch at The Sudra, just me and the kind and lovely-eyed guy behind the counter, which is how I like it. The sun was bright, the music was right, and the food topped it all (the small Chickpea Cutlet plate, vegan AND delicious). I could have stayed all afternoon, but I had things to do, itches to scratch.

First of which was calling my dad to wish him happy birthday! We rambled and ambled over a myriad of topics (books. history. movies. space travel), and oddly enough, spoke 1:16! On 1.16! Insert weeeird sound effect here.

I then grabbed my latest book, Philip K. Dick’s collected stories, The King of the Elves, intending to spend time before I picked the hubster up for date night. I parked and locked the car, but only made it ten feet before a little voice said, “Take pictures instead.” So I started for the West Hills to chase the light. I made it twenty blocks and was enveloped by a swift moving fog. There went that idea!

And then, I thought, the Pittock Mansion!

I arrived in time for sunset and a cinematic sweeping of fog.

The city below


and completely



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Normality is a paved road:

it’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.

Vincent Van Gogh

Happy Sixty-Fifth Birthday, Daddy!

Thank you for teaching me, in your bold way, that normality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be:

to not bend to the will of the crowd

to like The Doors and Napoleon

to relish solitude and a good book

to get misty-eyed at a song or a memory

to wholeheartedly be myself.

I love you!


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