July 12, 2008 - 11:52 a.m.
My DiaryLand buddies have not updated in three months. Bloggers go through hot and cold cycles. Periods of silence. Moments of lucidness and depression. The blank, white, entry screen always there to cry upon.
I came across a lovely journal last week while checking my stats. Old-story.diaryland.com who is more talented and visited than she realizes. I may purchase a necklace with key embedded in clear, polyurethane resin (hard plastic) from her artistic collection on Etsy. My own personal metaphor. Searching for the right heart to unlock with an old-fashioned key. Long, angular, hand-crafted kind they don't make anymore. Keys from earlier centuries...used in Victorian, Edwardian houses, castles.
In my quest for the perfect soul-mate I've encountered appeasement, compromise. Maybe it's as good as it gets. A partner who initially likes to ride bikes, sail in small boats with a jib and main only. Fear of capsizing around every turn and tack. Person who can ride a motorcycle or scooter; full throttle and sometimes do crazy shit like wheelies, standing up on the floor board, smokin' the tires. Funny stupid stuff. Who can dress up or down. Be quietly found in a local coffee shop typing in cyberspace, reading a book, sipping a cold Frapuccino, or drinking a warm cup of chai tea. House blend coffee. Engaging in thought-provoking conversation. Minutes later, on the back of your bike cause she don't weigh too much, riding home to take a shower together. And some hot, sensual romance afterward when both are clean, fragrance-free.
I want to go on a "Freedom Ride". Chemo knocked out the monthly visitor and I'm free from messy distractions. I want to ride in an open car. Sticking my head out the train and watching the little towns and village people get excited about seeing us pass by. I get teary eyed watching them wave at me. Kids running along the bicycle trails built in their Appalachian hometowns. Rattling passed the slate covered roofs. Each slate piece individually carved in circular, octagon patterns. Smooth silver, gray, brownish-red hues in the afternoon sun. Passing by the former brick making factory. Everything in town with brick walls and roads. Green in July. Corn, knee-high by the Fourth of July. Two weeks later, still green and lush. Humid. Survived the millions of fireworks fired in Midwest cities, towns, villages, hills. While California continues to burn. Anarchists and malcontents, eco-terrorists dropping flares and fire bombs. Destroying nature. Not allowing her presence to prevail. Wait long enough and nature reclaims her land NATURALLY.
~ Soldier Girl
