I care for you

“I care for you" she wrote, not thinking about the impact of her words, simple words... "I care for you" You would not think much of them on a normal day, but, this day was not just any day... It was the day you read the words "I care for you" and actually read them, after all you’re a guy such things just don't seem to click, you know, not like when you’re a chick?

"I care for you"... what the hell does that mean?  Really... are they words to appease, not to offend, do you really mean, "I care for you?"  Perhaps words of affection that your trying to send, "I care for you"... don't want to append!

"I care for you" are such words, could mean anything, I'm a guy after all and things need to be spelled out for me.  I am meant to fix things, build things, and help in any way I can... sharing what I consider to be mine, my thoughts are tough.  "I care for you" are words that have a load of power; they can cause fear, joy and sometimes even make you feel like jumping off a tower!

"I care for you"... words to live by, but for someone who's just a guy, there, should be some instruction manual nearby, though, because I am a guy I'll probably not read it, and then, defend my actions till the bitter end, and still wonder about those simple words... "I care for you"

She was

She was the kind that made you take a chance,
The kind that gave you that subtle glance,
When things were good they were the best,
But now all i have time for is rest.

Because she was the kind of girl that made you take a chance.
Turning love into a fight,
Always taking that no win stance,
She could never admit you the one who was right.

She was full of fun and adventure,
Never looking back at her self loathing indenture,
She pushed people away at the speed of light,
Always claiming to be right.

She was the kind of girl that made you take a chance,
The kind of girl that was full of pop and circumstance,
For her it was all about visual clues,
But in reality she was singing the blues.

Because she was the kind of girl that made you take a chance.
Turning love into a fight,
Always taking that no win stance,
She could never admit you the one who was right,
Because she was full of pop and circumstance.

I feel the need to say...

Hey France,

I see you visit often,
wondering about you,
as I always do.

I hope life is good,
like it was in the old hood.

Someday I will make my way back,
to the land I love,
unless Germany calls me sooner,
I will become the ultimate spooner.

France is the place to be,
regardless of the nonsense that is me.

It's nice to see you can't stay away~

Someone to save...

I need someone to save,
some one to rescue,
my life is empty without love,
empty without knowing how to behave.

I need someone to save,
through turmoil and strife,
salvation comes in only one form,
that is to safe life.

I need someone to save,
I need to hold what I know is true,
I need the touch,
of a woman's love.

Creativity abounds me through and through,
I need someone to save,
because alone I can never come through,
life is nothing unless we see,
the reality that is the giving tree.

I need someone to save,
someone to rescue,
not for them,
because it is for me!

Forever alone

The moon is high and bright
and alone is what I feel,
to realize there is no one
I have in my sights
is to be forever alone.

Times have come and gone
things were said,
things were drawn,
and as the moon rises high
I will be forever alone.

I paint with all that I have
my work is evidence of who I am,
and still in every way,
every day,
I am forever alone.

Each night I say sweet dreams,
each night I have those dreams,
wondering who I am supposed to be
wondering if I will ever be set free,
always knowing I am forever alone.

The actions of others

I have seen people at their worst possible moments, people are dark, complex and to be honest quite scary!  When I say I have seen this I mean to say I have been the head of security at three hotels near Detroit Metro Airport, I have worked with the local police, the DEA, the FBI and the Secret Service on various incidents and dignitary type visits to the area.  I have seen my share of death and how people react to it, I have even seen how horrible people can be when mass death occurs as I was one of the first responders to the crash of flight 255 at metro airport.  I have seen first hand how despicable people can be on large scales.  A while after that I became a reserve police officer for the city of Dearborn Heights, MI and again found out how stupid people are in general.  So when I say I have seen how the actions of others affect people I truly do mean it!

That said the following story still baffles me to this day!

In 2010 I started dating a woman (my marriage all but over at this time) who lived in Europe.  I guess I did not mind the distance because we saw each other on skype or spoke every day.  In November of that year I finally got brave enough to go there and visit her.  It was without a doubt the most fun I had ever had, the sex was great, the food was great and the scenery was fantastic.  I took several thousand photographs that trip and still look back fondly at them.  That trip was a week long action packed moment in time.

Several days after I had returned to the states, I received a panic phone call from her indicating that "someone" had created a fake Facebook account and had sent her then boyfriend who had just purposed to her in March of that very same year, her parents and herself an email.  She had asked if I had seen it or gotten a copy of it, I had not and to my amazement within moments the fake Facebook person sent me a copy as well.  Interesting I thought, and timely.  The email essentially described the fact that I had made the trip as well as things that were done on that trip that only she and I knew.  She accused me of telling everyone about the trip, telling everyone what we had done, that was confusing because I was not sure "who" everyone was considering I was not about to tell my wife or daughter and my time spent in my art studio I was alone 99.9 percent of the time!

I told her to calm down we would find out who did this somehow.  I was able to extract and save the entire Facebook page set up by this person and quickly discovered that there was a great deal of data imbedded in it.  I spent a few days pulling out what I could and then discovered what was a list of i.p. addresses.  At the time I thought they were nothing more then the addresses for those visiting the page.  I would soon find out the truth!

I purchased a piece of software the allowed me to enter the addresses and trace them.  They were not as it turns out individual addresses, they were all linked together and lead me to the person who created the Facebook page.  The results took only an hour to discover and because I had trouble lifting my jaw off the table at seeing the results I reran the trace several dozen times!  The trace lead me back to her, right down to her computer name.  Confused I wondered why exactly she would do this, why she would lie about it!  I decided not to tell her, but to point her in a different direction so I could some how verify this potentially damaging information.  So I concocted a lame story about someone else and every-time it was brought up I deflected it to: I need time, results need to be sure...blah, blah, blah.

When I say they were not i.p. addresses from individuals I mean they were of computers but the way the internet works when you visit a site you reach across many computers, the software I purchased traced a line from each i.p. address back to the only person who could have created the fake Facebook page.  Now I needed to verify what I had found out.  One of the things she would do was get ready for bed and fall asleep while I worked on my art while we were on Skype.  It was one of those things I enjoyed about our time together.  None the less during one of these Skype sessions I fired up the software I had purchased and ran a live trace.  One of the things I had discovered about the internet was that if a computer could reuse a known pathway it would.  The result of this trace was in fact nearly identical to the one above.  The most damning part of it was the fact that both traces pointed directly to her phone/internet service provider all the way down to her computer name.  They were identical on both traces!

Why would someone do this?  Was the question that kept creeping into my head.  Why would someone put her parents through such a thing let alone the man she claimed to want to marry, though the later was a bit sketchy considering she had been having affairs since he proposed just months before.  Maybe it was a way to break it off from him, maybe it was a way to anger her parents enough so they would leave her alone.  I really don't know, things got very crazy with both our lives in the months ahead and I would never talk about it, I never told her of the results I had found.  I did talk to a few other very close friends looking for some sort of reality check but again life got in the way so it was never discussed with her.

The actions of others are as confusing as ever, they hurt, they cause doubt in this case they were designed to hurt others.  She was one that used the word "hate" very often regardless if it was about a thing or person all the while claiming to be a "nice" person.  I do think she is full of hate, but hate mostly for herself.  That hate unfortunately gets misdirected onto others, her family, her friends, even her lovers.  I am most frustrated with the fact that she never came clean about this, I gave her endless opportunity, she kept to her story like the perfect little liar.

After seeing her once more here in the states and then again in her home town our relationship had come to a close, we tried on a few occasions to speak but the anger between us was and is still much to great.  My anger at having discovered who she really is will prevent me from ever communicating with her again.  I enjoyed the good times we spent together but someone that devious would stop at nothing to hurt others.  On a side note she did admit hacking into my email and Facebook that first week we spent together in Europe, oddly enough her reasoning was she did not trust me.  Not a way to start a relationship with someone, then again maybe all she wanted was to use me to drive a wedge further between her parents, her boyfriend and herself.  I don't know anymore as I question the reality of it all!

The actions of others cause pain and hurt, if she ever makes it back to my blog and reads this it will be the first time she discovers that I know/have known the truth of her actions, that I am embarrassed for her because of them, as I have been since the second I discovered it!

Creating a soul

No one lives for ever,
no one sees or looks beyond,
the things we think,
are never true,
but in you
I thought I was creating a soul.

My life has been full of strife,
my only gift back is producing life,
we see the things we want,
deny those that are not.

We try and create,
we live to masturbate,
you wont like these lines,
but in that I can relate.

We try and create the soul,
we want to be,
the life we hope we will live,
but in doing so the soul gets tired.

We love passionately,
despite what others want to see,
the soul I have created for you,
is the one I thought was for me to!

Purge the consequences of your life

We spend endless days thinking of fears unknown,
watching others do the same,
when the day is done our heads are thick with strife,
the time has come to purge the consequences of life.

Drama queens feel the need to control,
they fill each life with a heartless soul,
time to say good riddance to such people,
because the time has come to purge the consequences of life.

Anger fills the endless tide of emotions,
in this new world order there is enough to fill all of the worlds oceans,
words filled with vile and distrust,
dictate to all who hear them with a veniumus thrust,
that the time has come to purge the consequences of life.

Love

Love is desire,
admiration,
is a warm body to snuggle with,
dreaming of what could be,
Love is missing you.

Love is far from hate,
has no room for debate,
is beyond arguments,
Love is not born from acts of jealousy.

Love is not sex,
Nor is love meant to perplex,
Love is knowing whatever is true,
So understand when I say,
I love you!

I've spent a lifetime loving you

You know who you are,
The one whose stories with me will be written about,
You know who I am,
I know who you are...

I know if we were talking you would have already called to wish me a happy birthday,
I know you thought of me today because I see you've been here to visit,
I know everyday I am in your thoughts,
I know that you wish things had been different.

I know the truth and so do you,
I know despite our troubles we still desire,
I know the truth in who I am,
I know that everyday I still think of you,
I know the truth in what we had,
I know the truth in what we were supposed to be.

I know the truth!

Sweet dreams...

Sweet Dreams,

I know you're there,
bursting at the seams.

Love so full,
you're about to explode.

I want to say sweet dreams,

because you know in your heart,

That I will always love you~

In a dream I had last night

In a dream I had last night,
you were laying next to me,
both our bodies trembling as hands touched skin,
feeling my body heat transfer to you.

In a dream I had last night,
my fingers explored your body,
running my fingers from your head to your toes,
you laid next to me fully exposed.

My hands trembled as I caressed you,
feeling goose bumps rise and fall,
the touch of your skin against my lips,
the taste of you seeping deep into me.

In a dream I had last night,
we were one with each other,
our bodies entwined,
our hearts beating as one.

In a dream I had last night,
we explored each other,
some places new,
the others familiar.

In a dream I had last night,
no words were spoken,
just two in the heat of passions and desire,
then I woke this morning,
with nothing but the taste of you in the air.

Feeling you inside me

As we sit on my bed, your breasts pushing up against my back, I can feel your heartbeat pounding.  My hands running over your skin as they run from your knees to your beautiful hips, my hands trembling at the touch of you.

I feel you inside me.

I feel your heart pounding next to mine!

My hands reaching behind you feeling those hips of yours, wanting more but enjoying what they have.  Your skin getting tighter as they run along the surface of your body, feeling the reaction that you can no longer control.  We are locked in a position of restricted movement, but an entirely beautiful position to be in, your body pressed tightly against mine, your beautiful breasts pressed hard into my back.

Your heart pounding next to mine I can feel you inside me.

Your breath a warm flush against my neck as you kiss me, the cool air blowing through the window gives a hint of the pending fall weather, your nipples pressing even deeper into me.

Our bodies are entwined  as one in our contorted effort to explore each other.

I dare not change or move for fear of disturbing the dream of you inside me, our hearts now beating as one.  The heat from our bodies now causing steam to rise from the seam that once separated us but now seals us.  Your hands wrapped around my chest, your fingers moving to feel my piercings as mine give you a gentile massage.

I can feel the excitement in you as we sit in a contorted embrace while I feel you inside me.

You kissing... the touch of your lips on my neck and back, feeling you pressing tight up against me, your nipples erect from both excitement and the chill in the air.  We sit in this embrace never once speaking.

Just closed eyes as we explore the concept of you inside me!

The Proposal

Our adventure that day had begun in a frantic moment of trying to find the right bus to take us to Pont du Gard, the largest remaining Roman Aqueduct.  Trying to figure out the complicated bus schedule was frustrating at best until Jamie asked a bus driver if he was going in that direction.  His response seemed cryptic based on the puzzled look on Jamie's face.  Though her French was extraordinary he seemed to have a dialect that left her just a bit puzzled.  She motioned me to sit down and proceeded to pay for our tickets.  As the buss pulled out of the station we passed several key locations that every artist knew, the mental institution that Van Gogh had been in was there right in front of us.  We both sat in silence for a few moments pondering the great artist, the area, and the things we were seeing.

It was not long before we were out in the French countryside looking at the endless fields of grapes passing us by.  I have to admit I was surprised at how mountainous it was.  We traveled for what seemed to be about 40 or 50 minutes when we pulled onto a round-a-bout and stopped.  The bus door flung open and the driver pointed out the door down a seemingly endless street and muttered the words "Pont du Gard".  Jamie and I looked out the window, back at each other, then at buss driver who nodded his head and repeated the words "Pont du Gard".  Never shying way from an adventure we picked up what few things we had, my camera bag and exited the buss!  Our destination it seemed rested about two miles down the road so off we headed.  Our walk took us down a road with homes built on the side of a mountain on one side and vast grape fields as far as the eye could see on the other, it seemed as if we were walking in the foot steps of Van Gouh himself.  Despite days of rain early in the week today the sky was clear and as blue as I have ever seen, the colors of the fields, the trees the sky above us we could see how this beautiful place enchanted Van Gogh we could see the colors of life before our eyes!

We eventually found our destination and spent the day exploring every bit of it as we could, it seemed the park was actually closed so the number of people there was much less then on a busy day.  It was truly a sight to see, roman workers scribing there names in stones as big as a car, the engineering that went into this incredible stretch of aqueduct was just astounding.  We explored the monument for hours taking time to ensure that we would also explore each other, a kiss, and a hug as we stood swaying in the breeze small gentile things to let each other know how we felt.  Children playing around us, other couples having pick-nicks and the many other photographers meant that we would have to behave.

As our time here came to a close we both realized we had spent most of the day without food, we took water on all of our adventures but relied on finding local food, as our adventures would unfold.  We began walking back the way we had come in hopes of finding two things, a place to eat and some sort of buss stop to let us know how to get back to Nimes.  One restaurant was all we passed along the two-mile stretch of road and though it slips my memory as to why we cold not eat there.  Our walk back continued until we got to the round-a-bout and stood puzzled for a bit as to where to go.   The round about had three entry ways, the way we came in, the walk to Pont du Gard and the third went over a bridge that lead to a small town, if we could not find the buss stop there we would be spending the night!  Just over the bridge was the very thing we hunted for, and once again trying to decipher the cryptic schedule lead both of us to a brief moment of panic as we either had just missed the last buss or it was about to come.  Several old men sitting on a bench watched us as we looked frantically up and down the street, then with out notice one of them pointed and said something in French at which time Jamie smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, the very last bus back to Niems that day was pulling up behind us!

Even though our day was coming to a close as we caught the last bus back to Nimes our adventure for that day had just begun.  Tired from our days activities and walking we both fell into our seats for the ride back to Nimes discussing what we might want for dinner and our nights activities.  Anytime we traveled we both had the opinion of walking the streets and eating at restaurants that not only appealed in taste but in decor and the people working or owning them.  We looked for restaurants that were different, usually off the beaten path and to this day had never had nothing but fantastic meals.  I guess our reasoning was that if we go off the beaten path we would find restaurants where the owners prepared meals because they loved to cook, not to feed the tourists and simply make a living.
Our return to Nimes was welcome and the sun was just starting to set as we got back to our hotel.  Our room was on the second floor and through our window you could see across the street the last working Roman Coliseum in existence!  The view was extraordinary!  Just below the window was a restaurant that (as most in France do) had plenty of space for an out door cafe.  We would hear patrons at eating and drinking, as we got ready for whatever adventure was next.

The emotions of the day from seeing such beauty had caught up with us, all of our pent up desires while at Pont du Gard were now bursting to be let out, we still had an hour or two before we would head out to dinner, the window was open and a cool breeze would waft through the air once and a while.  Standing in front of the window gazing out at the sun setting over this fantastic city was over whelming.  I held her in my arms and began to caress her face from behind; as we stood there holding each other she could sense my excitement at the simple touch of her.  She turned to me looking up with her endlessly deep eyes and began to kiss me.   The taste of her lips on mine as we stood in that window is with me to this day.  I guided her over to our bed, which it turns out was two twin beds pushed together, which we discovered during our time the night before and ended up on the floor.  Ensuring that kind of moment would not happen again I laid her down and began to slowly remove her clothing.  She trembled slightly as the cool air would rush in through the open window, "can you just close the curtain, leave the window open but just close the curtain" she asked.   Of course I said getting up and walking over to the window.  As I looked back she had already remover her remaining clothing and I stood there gazing at her beauty, I could not look away! She was stunning; her face was flush with not only the excitement of the moment and filled with desire but flush from our wonderful day walking in the South of France.  What clothes I had on I started to remove and she stopped me abruptly, saying, "No, I want to do that".  My desire was always to please her and I could not help but follow her instructions, she was in control of this adventure!

She motioned me to sit on the bed as she got up and stood in front of me nude, any attempt at touching her was refuted though she smiled at every attempt.  As she slowly unbuttoned my shirt she would use her hands and gently touch my shoulders, face, her bare breasts would brush against me causing my skin to react with excitement.  With my shirt now off she sat behind me with her breasts pushing into my back, her hands rubbing my chest, playing with my nipple piercings I could hear her breathing change, I could feel her body heat increasing with every passing second.  She motioned me to lay on my back all the while never stopping her gentle caress.  She quickly removed my pants exposing all of me to her, she spent a great deal of time exploring my body with a soft touch as if to imprint on her mind every goose bump, every hair that she caused to rise and fall.  She was doing to me what I had do to her many times, I knew that her desire was to know my body, to taste it with her fingers.  I laid there letting her touch, feel, the desire to touch her was over whelming I could not stand it any longer!  "Look if you are going to do that I NEED to feel you, I need to touch you!"  I thought to myself "don't deny me the pleasure of sensing and touching your body, you can have mine but I need yours!"  My hands instinctively moved to hold her hips, they held there for a moment, and then moved to cup her face as she looked into my eyes, staring into me as if to be looking into my mind.  I pulled her face closer to mine, gently feeling her lips against mine, refraining from any intense kissing, I simply wanted to use  my lips to feel her face, chin, her nose, letting her twist her head so I cold feel the nape of her neck and her ears.

Neither of us could feel the breeze any longer and we both were now intensely hot, our act of exploration had caused our bodies to rise in temperature such that as she sat up I could see small beads of sweat rolling down her bare breasts collecting at her beautiful nipples.  I pulled her onto me in such a way that I could use my tongue to collect the sweet taste of her and drink her in.  Pulling her even closer to me I no was able to take all of her breasts into my mouth and as I did so she would moan with pleasure, from this point on any touch, any kiss any form of moment between our bodies, we would both moan with pleasure. There was no longer a reason to speak, we used our hands, eyes and bodies to communicate with the only sounds being uttered were tones that had the soul purpose of letting each other know the lever of pleasure we felt.  As we continued to explore each other the lighting in the room took on a surreal mood, I was aware of it but it was as if the only light that mattered was the light that reflected off our bodies, the rest of the room became nonexistent, the open window became nonexistent.

The room filled with the scent of her as we explored each other, her excitement was such that my body was drenched in her, she was drenched in me.  We fulfilled many desires, tasting, touching, kissing, our night of fulfillment continued for an hour until I laid on my back and motioned her to move on top of me, I could not stand it any longer I had to be one with her.  She moves such that I entered her and as she slid down on top of me she let out a moan that I had not heard with such intensity before. She trembled as I progressed deeper into her, until she rested on top of me, she leaned over to lay on top of me kissing me sucking and pulling on my lips with hers.  Our bodies were so tight to the others there was a vacuum between us and when she went to sit back up the reaction pulled her back down on top of me with force. Our bodies truly had become one in that moment.  We proceeded to make love, me thrusting deep inside her and with every stroke her moans had gotten louder, looking up at her I see her back arch and a pleasant scream escapes her mouth and pulses through the air.  We had completely disregarded the open window, the busy cafe down stairs and the level of exquisite noise she and I had been making.

As we continued to make love, continued to explore each other, continued to bring each other to the very brink of sexual madness we both exploded, passionately and intensely satisfying, the desire to continue to please the other was never ending, our night was an explosion of pent up desires that would not end!  As we both began to come back to reality and the room once again appeared I looked up at her smiling a very big smile, she looked at me puzzled and said "what?” "Nothing" I replied, "just enjoying the moment."  She looked toward the window hearing a noise and having gotten a bit closer to reality asked, "what are they clapping about?” "You" I replied, "they are applauding our love making, I guess we had gotten louder then we thought we could” Her moans of pleasure had become a permanent part of the city of Nimes.  There was no doubt whether she had been satisfied, the patrons of the restaurant below our window knew she had been, they knew I had been.
Now embarrassed (a bit) at our show she asked that I close the window while we readied our selves for the night, laughing at our show, relishing in the intensity of it, we once again got dressed and despite having a plan to find a restaurant online wandered out into the city to find a place to nourish our now spent bodies.  Though our day had the perfect weather as we made love in our hotel room the rain once again began to fall, not enough to prevent us from wandering out but just enough to give the night view of Nimes a wonderful glow.  We found our selves walking through the city in search of a restaurant, we had no idea what it would be or what kind of food they would serve that would come when we found it.  Stumbling over the cobblestone streets we found our selves in front of a very small African restaurant that looked quite interesting, through the window we could see an eclectic collection of items that were clearly from Africa.  As Jamie read the menu posted outside we were greeted by an African woman who came out of the restaurant at seeing us linger just outside.  She was pleasant and very out going, Jamie and she talked about the menu and it was decided we would have our dinner there.

Walking into the small structure it was set up so that at best 12 to 16 people could eat at the same time and that would have been a tight fit.  The restaurant was charming, and we quickly knew we had made the correct choice.  Once inside we were introduced to an African male who was just as excited as the female, it seemed that they were the owners and the only two working in the restaurant that night.  We discovered that the female was as artist as well and that some of the items hanging on the wall was by her.  We were asked what our wine choice would be and though they only had a few varieties to choose from they were all from Africa, I suggested we let them decide as they knew the food and what wine would be well suited to bring out the flavor.  Our meal was absolutely fantastic, we sampled various dishes recommended by the owners and each dish was better then the one before.  As we approached our second bottle of wine, the meal, the night and the wine started to catch up with us as we laughed and reminisced about the days adventures, all of them.  After paying the bill and leaving a well deserved tip for these folks we started our journey back to the hotel though having not paid much attention the way we got there getting home it would seem to be an adventure as well.
We wandered through the streets of Niems laughing and stopping frequently to soak in the crisp night air and each other and it was apparent that the wine had gone to Jamie's head as we both stumbled over the cobblestone streets and each other.  At one point I stopped, turned around to blurted the following: "Ok mam I am sorry but we are going to have to give you a sobriety test here, it seems you may have had a bit to much to drink the way you are walking." I continued with "can you please walk a straight line, here follow this line for me” laughing as the words exited my mouth.  She tried her best to walk the line I had shown her, tipping one way then the other when in an instant she ended up on her bottom looking up at  me laughing at her inability to walk.  "Wait that was not fair" she blurted as I picked her up from the ground.  "Its wet and I slipped” let me have a do over officer" she stated.  After a moment of sitting and snuggling in the now very chilly air I said, "ok once again but you must pass this time or punishment will be swift” She laughed at my comment and proceeded to make another attempt at walking a straight line.  Though she was able to walk, it was far from straight though at least this time she maintained an upright stance.  We laughed at our game and continued our walk back to the hotel.  We found our selves walking next to the coliseum, which meant our hotel was just around the corner.  

Without warning and with all the force she could muster she pushed me in a dark corner next to one of the pillars of this magnificent structure.  We stood for several moments embracing each other kissing with all the passion we could under a now clear night sky.  We laughed as a group of young girls passed us, looking intently as we kissed and gazed into each other’s eyes.  Then she stepped back from me, a long stare into my eyes and proceeded to kneel there in front of me.  Holding my hands for stability her eyes lit by the night moon of Nimes, they were glowing with an inner beauty rarely seen in anyone.  The noise that surrounded us was gone, people walking in the streets were gone, the same feeling I had in our hotel room had returned, the world no longer existed just she kneeling in front of me and me looking down at her beautiful face.   "Will you marry me?" she said, as I helped her back to her feet I held her close and said "Any second of any day I would marry you!” we held each other in a tight embrace as we made our way back to our hotel room, feeling even more passion and desire for each other then ever.  Our day’s adventures ended in a loving tight embrace and the echoes of applause played our heads as we drifted to sleep in each others arms.

 

A few words on romance

Romance is the thing you do because it makes you feel alive,

There are never guarantees in life and there aren’t in romance,

Romance is the thing you do because it makes someone else feel alive,

A life without romance can be a lonely, spiteful place,

Romance is the thing you do when your heart feels passion for something or someone

Denying romance is just another way of shutting out the thing you’re afraid of, or deserve,

Romance is this crazy mysterious, exhilarating, unpredictable thing,

That for some reason as adults we forget when we mature and become jaded by the world,

Romance is giving some simple gesture with no expectations in return; it is the feeling you get when you receive something with no expectations in return.

Romance does not revolve around sex, maybe a little bit about relationships and who knows if we all were a bit more romantic it might be a much nicer place.  Everyone young and old should be romantic, because without it we are nothing more then tired, heartless, cold, hard-headed, know it all, self entitled, snobby ass, parade pissers.

In my humble opinion it would be much better to romance then piss on someone’s parade.  But hey that’s just me…

And hopeless romantic = eternal optimist...

One guys opinion...

Too Bad (your're married)

I drive by your restaurant twice every day
and wish I had the courage to stop in and say
The things that needed to be,
my hope that you would see
The torment I spend everyday and how much I
I want you to know, but…


Then your sister said too bad, too bad your married.
She would be great for you!
Too bad because you seem sad and blue
You’re married too bad for you…


Finally getting brave enough to enter,
Telling a bad joke as I get near the counter
I saw your smiling face, I saw that curly hair
I’ve got to slow down, man, don’t show despair!
I want you to know, be open and straight but…


Then your sister said too bad, too bad you’re married.
She would be great for you!
Too bad because you seem sad and blue
You’re married too bad for you…


Seeing you in that white dress
Made my mind feel a little stressed
Trust me when I say that
your family was a bit distressed
You really should know that I see
A work of art, like when you’re smiling at me…


Then your sister said too bad, too bad you’re married.
She would be great for you!
Too bad because you seem sad and blue
You’re married too bad for you…


Realizing the way things are,
Kind of like being put in a jar
Giving you those photos that day
The thing you don’t know,
You make my knees wobble and sway.


That is when I thought to say…


Too bad I‘m married because I would be great for you,

Your sister said too bad, too bad your married
She would be great for you!

I say too bad because I am sad and blue

She said you’re married to bad for you…

Her scent, her beat it was as if she had never left my studio!

Hours spent on one drawing, time lost to the visions I could no longer ignore.

I had all but forgot I had a wife, a daughter…

I had a life that no longer seemed to matter to me.

All that mattered was that I continued to draw theses images, continued to search for Ginger in my mind and now in reality.  The 11 drawings posted here, the images from that single photo session, they are proof that she existed, proof that she can be found again, must be found again.

Her scent so strong in my studio as I work on one canvas over another… as if it were saying to me which one I should be working on, moving me to the canvas of her choice on a given day.

Then in a moment of splendid madness her scent was so strong I could taste her in the air, she was in the room with me, looking up from the position I had been drawing in I was no longer in my studio but in a candle lit room with a single window, a rose resting on the window sill, Ginger standing gazing down at the rose with er back to me, seemingly wanting to speak to me not know how to start.

I could not take my eyes off of her!  She stood motionless in perfect stillness the candle light shimmering off her bare back, the lines of her small but muscular figure well defined in the dim light.  I could see a small crack on the wall just to her right.  A small trail of water had leaked through; this place that I was in was old, very old!

Her eyes motioned to my drawing pad; I had nearly forgotten that I was holding it, Ginger standing in front of me, the dim light shimmering of her bare back, the black full length skirt she had on seemed to blend in with the floor until the candle light disturbed the perfect statue like pose that she held.

Drawing frantically, as if this moment would end in an instant breathing deep breaths so I could inhale her scent, it was like a drug, it was strong and very pleasing, I could taste her in the air and after spending a moment on a tiny detail I looked up and saw nothing but the dimly lit wall of my studio… she was gone, the window was gone, the rose was sitting on the floor in front of me.  Her scent in the air, her beat playing in the background and then I heard something,

something I had not heard in a while…

Dad, dad are you alright?

Whats in a rose?

“Dad, dad, are you all right”… I heard… when I opened my eye my daughter was leaning over me with one of her friends standing next to her looking around in a puzzled fashion.  Having a working studio in my home had its advantages, I could spend days at a time on projects undisturbed and my family was used to me focused on projects that I would get lost in them sometimes for long periods of time.   This time around was different however, I had been in my studio for five and half weeks before my daughter came down to check on me.  She was always the concerned on as my wife had lost interest in all of my art and photographic skill a very long time ago, she had her own interests and rarely did the two of ours ever combine.

My daughter on the other hand was just as talented as I am if not more so she would use the studio when she was not distracted with boys, or the bothersome things in life like homework.  But because I would spend so much time, long stints of it on projects and I had a potentially crippling disease my wife installed a closed circuit video monitoring system.  This done because of the persistence of my daughters concern, despite my never ending re-assurances. “Why the hell spend money when we could use the computer camera and the World-link?  Oh wait that’s right I forgot your father has to be different, has to be against…”  “MOM! He needs privacy” my daughter would argue… she was persistent and my wife disgruntled and bitter had a system installed that I would only allow on when I was sure it was not tied to the world link.  Only after a switch was installed so I could turn it off when I needed to.

“Dad!  Snap out of it~” my daughter snipped… “What happened down here?  Where did that rose come from?  Come on sit up here lets get you something to eat” She continued.

As I slowly gained a bit of consciousness I looked around my studio, I could barley recognize it.  Canvas drawings every where, paintings in process, drawing pads filled with sketches all of the same woman, her eyes, mouth, nose body limbs there were thousands of sketches, paintings some complete some in process… I don’t remember, I don’t remember vary much of any of it… I remember a woman coming over for me to photograph her… and at that moment I realized my left hand was in pain, intense pain!  Looking down I was holding a single red rose, so tight it’s thorns had pierced my skin and were buried deep into the palm of my hand and two of my fingers.  My daughters attempt to remove the rose from my hand was successful but the thorns were dug in so deep that they broke off the stem and remain pierced in the flesh of my hand.  “You stay here I am going to get something” my daughter spoke to her friend… When she returned she took my hand and forced my palm to open only to find the thorns had gone and the wounds they created completely healed. 

“Dad, what has happened down here what is going on?” she asked with a tone of seriousness and fright in her voice. 

“She was just here, she was just in the studio!  Breathe in you can still smell her perfume” I blurted.   “Can’t you hear that beat going on, she came in the studio, seems like a long time now, but can’t you hear it? She was just here… this rose, this rose—“I stopped in mid sentence because the rose had fallen onto a canvas that was laying on the floor and when we looked down at it, the rose the deep red rose I had “just” been holding was not now dried and deep black the color had gone from it just as my memory had.  “I can smell some perfume” my daughter’s friend chimed in.  “It smells really good” she finished.   “Don’t worry about that for now lets just get my dad cleaned up I am getting worried about him!”  She went on wiping my face with a wet cloth while her friend walked about looking at all of the work that had been created during the last several weeks.   “This one looks like—would you please just go up stairs and get my dads lunch” my daughter interrupted.  Clearly she was concerned and while I wanted to reassure her that I was ok all I could do was observe her actions as she walked about, fussing with my cloths, wiping paint off of my face, rubbing oil into my chapped hands.

I could hear her talking asking questions, I could sense her frustration with the fact that the only reaction was my eyes following her every move, never taking them off of her.  I could hear the beat in my head, my heart pounding faster and the intensity if the scent tat filled my studio gaining strength with every passing second.  I motioned to my daughter to move the canvas with the rose to a near by table, she knows that when I see something and want to preserve it for a future project to do as I ask without question.  She carefully picked up the canvas moving in slow deliberate fashion to a nearby table being careful not to disturb the rose’s position.  Turning back to me I could see her moving her lips, talking mouthing the words “dad, I am worried about you… I love you” but I could hear nothing but the continued beat of Ginger playing my head.  I tried to respond, I tried to force the voice in me to respond… “I am fine, and I love you too” but nothing came out just my eyes looking back at my daughter, her eyes looking deep into mine.  I had eaten and felt a bit stronger; I slowing got to my feet and gave my daughter a hug as if this would help re-assure her that I was ok.

Before anymore could be said I walked my daughter to the door of the studio gave her a gentle squeeze on her hand and I think, though I am not sure, I smiled at her as I walked back to a canvas where I could breath in the scent, the incredibly captivating aroma that directed me to the canvas I must work on next…

I heard my daughter tell her friend “we need to leave him to finish this work; I am worried I have never seen him this deep into a subject before, we have to check on him often”.  Her voice getting quieter and quieter standing in front of a canvas nearly as tall as I am the image of Ginger looking at that rose… no more voices in my studio I glance up and I am in her presence. The window, the rose on the ledge she is standing in front of me, perfect, still…

“Welcome back I’ve missed you, shall we finish this painting?” she said as she stood in the candle lit room perfectly still, the light shimmering off her smooth skin, the curves of her body visible only when the candle would flicker with a breeze.  Palette and brush in hand I spent what seemed like a life time on this canvas, studying her in every possible way with my eyes, every detail, every inch of exposed skin…

Breathing in deep breaths, realizing that the beat in my head was the gentle whisper of her voice repeating, something though I could not make out the words, it was comforting to finally know that it her voice causing the sound that I could identify it…

Breathing in deep breaths with every brush stroke, the curve of her back as she turned away from me, the hint of a breast she covered with one hand, her hair hanging down in front of her face leaving soft shadows across her neck and shoulder, I was frantic to study every square inch of her for the fear I would look up again and she would be gone, I would be back in my studio…

Breathing deep breaths, as I watched her body move in unison with mine as I breathed in she would as well. As I exhaled she did, as if we were one single point of energy… taking in deep breaths, her scent so mesmerizing, so intensely seductive, her perfect form and the motion of her body with every breath, in unison with the beat playing in my head…

What was she saying?

Breathing in deep breaths…. The candle light flickering my hands moving paint on a canvas, taking in deep breaths in unison with Ginger, in unison with her beat playing in my head, breathing her in deep into my lungs.  My hands painting the perfect woman while the rest of mind and body had been entirely consumed by her scent… by her beauty by her perfectly formed body while we both took in deep breaths, the motion of our lungs were one in the same, her beat playing in my head…

What was she saying?

Her name was Ginger

This maddening affect she has…

It has been several weeks and I find myself becoming more and more immersed in her with every brush stroke. I draw another canvas and her eyes capture my attention they will not let go…

It has been several weeks since our time in the studio and I can somehow feel her presence, I don’t know what it is but my mind spins with thoughts, the brush strokes in an instant are complete and another night has gone.

It has been several weeks and her name was Ginger, she waltzed into my studio like a breath of fresh air and has spurred a creative moment in the history of one painter like the storm of the century… her eyes glance back from a pale white canvas and hold an eternity in them…

Her name was Ginger and the thoughts rushing through my mind while painting her one night like a crazed man …hell who knows maybe I am, maybe this is just one of those wild dreams that you never wake from… painting like a crazed man wanting to know the meaning of her name, Ginger, a spice to be sure, a spice that was so intense that at one time it was considered a drug and regulated… the old days but every name had a meaning!

Ginger what was yours?

This “world link”, used to be called the Internet, now something altogether new, everybody with a video camera pointing at them at every computer… hell not me! I despised them! Privacy, to be alone with my clients in my studio is what they paid a premium for… but Ginger, she waltzed in unannounced asking for a time to be photographed, the obsession started the day after, but her name meant something… the world link gave me the following information:

1 thesaurus results for: Ginger
Roget’s II: The New Thesaurus
Main Entry: spirit
Part of Speech: noun

Definition: A lively, emphatic, eager quality or manner.

Synonyms: animation, bounce, brio, dash, élan, esprit, life, liveliness, pertness, sparkle, verve, vigor, vim, vivaciousness, vivacity, zip

It described her to a “T”!

Her name was Ginger and my studio still smells like her, the obsession began the day after our shoot. I have never seen her during the day and she contacted me only once since to ask about another shoot “if you don’t mind I would prefer a late evening shoot” she said. Stumbling on my words my reply was “I am here to serve you and will arrange my studio for whatever time you need”

Her name was Ginger and when the phone went dead after the conversation was complete, my head started to rush, the thoughts, her eyes, the smell of her wafting through my studio and she had been gone for several weeks. I never knew a mans heart could pound that hard without exploding. Several weeks seemed like an eternity but a night painting her eyes…another night spent staring into her eyes, studying her lips, another long night that will be over in a split second of this eternal obsession…

Her name was Ginger…

Whiskey and lace

The room was lit by one window; I walked in and was drawn to a table, the light was subdued from the white lace curtains. They hung with a grace from an era so long ago that I could only remember my mother telling me about it. A time when things were simpler and quieter. Every detail, every stitch could be seen in these old curtains, hard to describe such beauty but the hands that made these must have been strong, but nimble.

I noticed this song playing on an old radio in the background…

something familiar, but the old radio had trouble breathing life into this song… every now and then it gasped to play certain notes or voices. I listened with puzzlement at the words, squinting as if that would help jog my memory.

I turned to the window again something about it, something that caught my eye when I walked in, the table, something on it that would not let me wander about the room… reflecting in the light I could see tall crystal glasses… stoic, regal clear stems, tall and slender, almost as sensual as the woman I had bumped into at the train station… tall slender leading up to a red, rose red challis almost a perfect bell shape… the range of red was as wide as the colors of a painters pallet. Starting from a dark red at the very limits of the window where the light was minimal to a very bright sensual red for those in the middle. *Red!* If only people knew the history of the color red…

Delicate flowers could be seen in the lace curtains there shapes form various shadow effects on the crystal. Shadows from the folds, the dark walls, that song… what is that song playing in the background… damn this memory of mine… Looking a bit longer on this table I see a decanter of some sort of liquid… nearly the color of the crystal challises but just a hint of brown in it… enough that sparked my curiosity, what is this liquid…

Looking over my shoulder I don’t see anyone, that damn song… if I am caught it will be because I hear it, instead of someone approaching… playing in the background… like a record skipping to the beginning and starting over… that damn song… Ok this is my chance this is the time to see what this liquid is… my right hand reaches out to take the container and I pull off the top… slowly making sure there is not a sound, as gentle as I can I set the top on the table… wet side up, I guess I was shaking just a bit as I pulled out the top… good! this part was over… just reach out and take a crystal in your hand… forget the damn song just reach out and take one… it does not matter which just choose!

There it was! A small clear goblet sitting by a picture frame! Sitting almost by itself, almost blocking the photo that I could barely see… dark but there… my arm shaking with just I bit of apprehension reaches for the goblet and then I hear the most horrific sound… the music stops as if a train had driven through the side of the house, taking the radio with it and never once stopping! My heart started beating, harder and I dared not turn… keep cool Karl, just keep your cool… and there it was, a voice… a female voice… soft and quiet “can you pour me one as well?’ she said. Never once showing any fear, or discomfort…. “Just a single” she continued, “I’ve already had one”. Keep your cool Karl this will be ok… “Sure I can, would you like it on the rocks?” a term I’ve had trouble with my entire life… Its ice damn it, not-rocks, I thought to myself.

“No just a short whiskey would do fine” she whispered. Now behind me I could feel the heat from her body. Warm, against my back, her breath against my neck… “What was I doing here’ I thought! All I remember is walking up the steps to the front door of this beautiful old house and walking in… a woman at the buss station and some song playing in my head, never stopping… “What was the name of that song? “, who was that woman… tall, sensual, legs that went on forever… until they met the body of a beautifully fit young female… “do you remember why I asked you here” I heard in the back ground, “no mam” I replied… her voice got just a bit stronger as I poured both drinks… “I am not a mam, I am the woman you met earlier, the one at the train station” she blurted as if she was a bit irritated with the notion of being considered “mam”. “I’ve asked you here” her voice getting gentler as she spoke… “I’ve asked you here because I have had a dream, a dream about you, in this dream you spoke to me, told me about some things and I can no longer remember the dream”, she continued, “…do you understand what I am saying?”

“YES!” I exclaimed, “I do understand… Where is it?” I asked her, without thinking as if some natural response for me, “I will need to see it if I am going to help” I turned to look at this woman with a warm body heat and gentle voice and my breath was taken from me in an instant… a stunning woman, who was she? Why me? What did she really want from me… the questions… I took a gulp from my goblet as I handed her the whiskey she had asked for. Blended Scotch whiskey one that had aged for a long time… perhaps as long as the curtains had hung in this window I was standing next to… surely long before this beautiful woman had purchased this house… surely!

She lifted her slender arm and pointed toward the table, her bare arm and hand a beautiful tanned color… it was hard to take my eyes off of her… I looked up at her face and her head nodded toward the table. “OH… I mumbled, oh yes I see it…” I walked back over to the table holding the delicate crystal and whisky. My eyes must have adjusted to the light, must have gotten used to the dark background of the rest of the room. I walked over to the table and picked up the photograph that my goblet had been sitting in front of all along… tilting the photograph toward the light squinting as if it would help me see clearer, I could not remember getting here… but this photograph seems familiar! I held it in my hands and closed my eyes… I ran my fingers over the front glass… this was an old frame, and old piece of glass, I could still feel the ripples from it’s primitive method of construction, this frame had been around for a while!

An image formed in my mind… she asked, “Do you see?” I replied in a monotone voice without looking up “yes, yes I see something, give me a moment” The image appearing in my mind was of a child… small, with big blue eyes, perhaps 8 or 9 years old… cute young child. I looked up at her and asked, “What would you like to know about her?” The woman replied, looking me in the eyes… “I need to know…” tears welling up in her blue eyes “ I need to know if she is happy” then images began flashing in my mind, they seemed to hint at a clue why I had been asked to this home, by this woman… it came back just as hard as the train that seemed to take the song playing on the radio away was…

I could see things; I could see things in the future… what may happen… “Look” I said… “I do not remember coming here and I know I have met you before but I am just not sure what is happening!”… The woman walked toward me slow and deliberate, graceful just a silent breeze, not even the delicate lace curtains moved as she passed. She asked, “are you a caring man?” “What?” came out of my mouth “Are you a caring man, do you care?” she asked just a bit stronger… “Yes, I suppose I am” I replied, “what does that have to do with this photograph and the young girl in it?”

“Everything!” she exclaimed. “That young girl is my mother… her happiness is… her contentment is all that I have left to care about. She has worked so hard in life and I recognized you at the train station” she continued, “you had a drink remember?” I asked you here, asked you to come and see how her life is. These things, the whisky, crystal and lace… these are hers, every time I walk by them I want to know that she is happy and safe. And you told me you could see this” The woman continued with her story “I asked you here because I knew that if you touched the photograph you would see her” I set the photograph down and this beautiful woman, sensual in her confidence and strength in her form, came close almost face to face… “ I need to be sure, you see, I have fallen in love and I need to be sure she is happy and content with her life”… I looked her in the eyes completely ignoring those pouting lips, the tears running down her face, the pure emotion she was displaying, it was hard to take, restraining myself from reaching up and wiping those tears away… “Not to worry” I replied, “please don’t cry, your mother knows how deeply you care, how much you love her and her life. She is happy and content that you have taken care of her. She knows that you have explorations to go on and lives through your adventures,” I continued. “She knows that you love, and is happy for it.”

The woman standing in front of me lifted her head; tears drying as she slowly looked up at me, almost embarrassed at her display of raw emotion… I began to speak… “I really think I should be going but you don’t have anything to worry about” the smile on this woman’s face was familiar, one I had not seen in a very long time… she knew something that I didn’t… she moved closer, her hand reached out for mine… “You really don’t remember?” she asked… “Remember what?” I replied. “Coming home!” she said as she took my hand and walked toward the back of the room and turned on that old radio… that song was playing again, I remember that song from somewhere… “What was the name of that song?” I must have spoken out loud because she answered my question “That is our song… Wicked Game by Chris Isaak silly boy!” That smile was so familiar…

She walked me up a set of stairs where a hot bath had been drawn, she unbuttoned my shirt and slacks… left me standing naked as I watched her slip out of her robe. I had not realized she had it on… had not noticed her tanned slender legs, and that she was barefoot. She guided me and helped me lay back in the hot water against the back of the tub. She then stepped in the water with me and sat in front of me, laid her back-against my chest… wrapped my arms around her. The room was dim, very dim… a few candles flickering in the distance and that song playing in the in the background…

“I don’t understand” I whispered, “What is going on…” “shhh” the whispered reply came back. “Let the heat of the water refresh your memory, it will be ok…” We sat with my chest to her back, and my arms wrapped around her for a while and as my thoughts started to clear I kept remembering hearing that song, seeing that table with the whisky and crystal on it in front of the window, flashes of memories… blurred vision, like photographs flipping in a book, not sure of them… The visions stopped as she sat straight up, turned to me and asked, “Are you back yet?” Her voice soft but excited. I looked at this beautiful woman sitting in front of me, naked, tears in her eyes, small beads of perspiration running down her torso, this incredibly sensual figure with bright beaming blue eyes and whispered “yes, I am home” She turned back around and whispered back to me “good lets just sit here for a while longer and enjoy the warmth” with that she took my hands in hers and wrapped my arms around her, holding as tight as she could, as if she had not seen me for sometime, a very long time.

She whispered “close your eyes for a while” The image of whisky, crystal and lace kept filing my vision… then the warmth took even that away as we listened to that old radio sitting in the candle light taking in the warmth of a hot bath…

I had finally come home…