I am there.... when you're in the tube of the wave, rip curling around you

and you're surfing on your own bare feet and the water feels like burning coals

then the wave arches more over and youre inside the hollow intestine of water

where the world is seen through shimmering and roiling water walls

so that you think you are about to be swallowed up and taken to the sea floor, lost forever

then the wave crashes over you and you find that you are in the air, breathing again

and then you know, the name of the wave.... I am the wave.



I am parsimonious, melifluous, and i can't spell

Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don't know. Maybe I had my happiness. I don't want to believe it but, there is no man only that moon.

looking elusive, almost as though I doesn't exist.

Hmmm....I'm digressing already....like a deleted scene from the witches of Eastwick. some days i see as wonderful and i'm chatting with someone about all the exceptions and amazements together shared.....some days i feel as though i'm on this magical ride wonderful and i'm taking the turns and twist while tightly grasping a pale strong arm .....i have no idea what kind of day this is.

little tiny drops of words i long to hear fall about my head and shoulders.....they trickle down my cheeks like tears. on any given day i'll wax sentimental about this greatest of stories where the three of us came together (literally) under rather daunting circumstances. just like in the song....i go fishing for the words i am wishing he would say to me but i'm really only praying that the words you'll soon be saying might betray the way they feel about me.

I get my allergies tested about every 18 months and have for a long time. Since I hit my adulthood my childhood allergies have become increasingly worse. Allergies are rated on a scale of one through five, five being the most severe. My environmental allergies test off the five scale. My arm blows up, I vomit within minutes of the serum touching my arm and by the end I have had a couple of puffs of Salbutamol.

About 4 years ago I went in for my regular testing and much to my surprise I had developed an allergy to shellfish/seafood. What this means is that I can eat a tuna sandwich but all the good stuff like crab and scallops and mussels and lobster and shrimp and��oh, you get the point, I can't eat it. I am allergic to all of it.

You'd think I'd notice something like that but the few times I had managed to gorge myself on seafood previous to this test had been in the winter. Each time I had eaten seafood there was another good reason why I got sick. First time I thought I had had too much to drink at a party and was sick all the way home because of the alcohol. Second time I thought it was too much garlic butter. Third time I thought a had a variation of the flu that all the housemates had had but me.

When I eat seafood it feels very much like food poisoning. I experience nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, abdominal pain, headache, and low-grade fever. These symptoms usually resolve in 2-3 days. I always love my Friday night Caesar's� they're done. Every once in awhile I can hold down some shrimp if I double up the allergy meds a couple hours beforehand. With clam chowder I need only lick the spoon and that's enough for me to vomit for up to 48 hours.

So�. For various reasons there was a heaping help of seafood linguine in the fridge which both Jordan and Clark managed to put a substantial dent into all on their own. Any idea where I'm going with this, Diary?

I've got some information for you, Diary. You'd be amazed at how I learned it. Did you know foods and drugs when orally taken can appear as allergens in the blood and other body fluids within two to six hours of ingestion? Therefore, if one partner or the other is allergic to any component of the partner's diet, then these could be a source of allergic problems through body secretions.

So�. Yeah, that's fun. Nothing but nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, abdominal pain, headache, and low-grade fever for me for almost 2 days now. You'd think I'd have clued in when Jordan asked me, after a big helping of the linguine, if my skin would react if he kissed my neck or should he brush his teeth. But no. I missed it.

Anytime you feel cutting out all the laughing is good for me

a) Ham on Rye, Hollywood, Love is a Dog from Hell, the Night Torn Mad with Footsteps b) Choose Me, Spun, all David Cronenberg's work, When Harry and Walter go to New York, Resevoire Dogs, Bar Fly c)chili peppers, queens of the stone age, fu manchu, lamb of god, george clinton, stray cats, parliment funkadelic, rick james, living color, jump blues d)sate beef noodle soup, butter chicken, barramundi, bleading roast beast of any kind and any, every and all salads (especially the beet, watercress feta salads)

a six pack of perrier?

Obviously the worst addiction I have is to men. I love fat ones skinny ones and ones who climb on rocks, tough ones, busy ones, even ones who think they rock. Bukowski boys�. I do so love my Bukowski boys.

Bukowski boys: poetic to the point of allegory, vagrant, haughty, kind of impish but in a dark manner; an appealingly mischievous person who always seems to end up being forgiven for his puckish ways. Slightly tousled most of the time, wrinkled a lot of the time and always in contempt of something.

I have pages upon volumes of words all given up in honour of my Bukowski boys. All offered up to the literary gods as a token of my gratitude for their unending muse. I simply will not say no to them, hard as Allen tries to make that change happen. I let them walk all over me just to be near their vagrancy.

I find the arrogance and haughtiness sexy. It makes me want to blow them real good. Mostly though they keep me from feeling anything at all. There's no future with a Bukowski boy, there's no real intimacy. I am safe in their arms. I am distracted by their poetry.

wandering the darkened streets looking for the heart of the city, something good to write about otherwise I am want for distraction; I want a Bukowski boy. I love fat ones, skinny ones, and ones who climb on rocks, tough ones, busy ones, even ones who think they rock. Bukowski boys�. I do so love my Bukowski boys. The boys I love to bite. I mentioned that already, didn't i?

i'm sexually ambiguous, at best

you want to swim with sharks