Even with the ripen doors it's sweet and sings..thanks for showing me.



pretty sweet for a sperm stick huh? ;)

thanks for appreciating. Quote

Meh

now awake arise sad sorrow i
find nothing left not drink or pie
no morning's crust eyed breath
or quiet waking�s tender lust
no smiling friend no lover's end
but only space and left no place
to rest or sorrow this sad morrow
loving you leaves nothing here
but sadness' crest and follows fear
so wander i away this day
to await my lover's need to play.

� Amanda 2011
Quote

Meh

now awake arise sad sorrow i
find nothing left not drink or pie
no morning's crust eyed breath
or quiet waking�s tender lust
no smiling friend no lover's end
but only space and left no place
to rest or sorrow this sad morrow
loving you leaves nothing here
but sadness' crest and follows fear
so wander i away this day
to await my lover's need to play.

� Amanda 2011




smiling friend here lol Quote

L�air

me on a swing
in rain
staring head tilted
skyward.
neck curved arched pain
hand grip chain
through the air again
lilies sent you
wilted and un-dried
swept away in departure
tides.
swings again up and
tilted �til head drops
chinrest on heart skirts
hoisted
await a lover who will never
touch my hands look in my eyes
swinging girl
no one's prize.

� Amanda 2011
Quote

Absent Tenant



jumper with broken bungee cord

envelopes in the dust broken door

breathe smoke flesh left to dry

blood sliced palm cold white sky



krackled broken nail mutant arms

high tide grey sand calloused harm

thorn�d bite swollen tongue

cold waters milkweed seed bruised come



crushed bones blue glass wadded tissues

moonlight shadows crumpled back issues

willow leaved legs sheets spread

welted swelling camphor smelling red



sighs shouts shattering iced rum

jaw ache sly tongued mouthed crumbs

rattled fence rust edged steel

grip grind slide scream thin feel.




� Amanda 2011 Quote

Ertrinkend

She�d chosen that name for a reason
Never explained to me why.
She�d burnt and crashed and never drowned
Self-destructed but never died.

I think of her often since loving you,
And last week it reached fervor.
You spoke of being rolled over, white watered,
And then you took it further.

Spoke of drown victims reporting beauty
Of floating loose and free
Like beautiful loving angels
Drifting high up in the seas.

I, quite drudge, disclaimed that there
Was any love of death to be claimed;
That at any speed or method where
Death placed period, pain surely laid.

But now, so far from your voice and arms
So deep in worlds so dark;
Ertinkend calls and wishes me well
She longs for me in her heart.

And you, my darling, so quiet and lost,
So silent but singing that song;
Of sorrow and longing and dreams of pain
I ponder all that�s gone wrong.

So standing beside the lake side waters
So green in the afternoon sun,
I wonder about those angels caught
Drifting in some beautiful love.

Your name has always spoke water to me
You are my daring brave wonderful love.
But Ertinkend angels who float in clear seas
Wander and drift in the cove.

I wonder if they would feel such bliss
If the water were murky and green.
If you go there my darling one I�ll come and kiss
At last in the watery sea.

� Amanda 2011

8/21/2011





Quote

Under the Cushions

In this room the old couch sits
Uncle Bob used to sleep on it
It saw its decade long ago
Family histories, storied woes

Now as I am, it�s full of lists
Of loves lost, hearts misplaced:

�flower, heart, kiss, bits of glitter thrown and not glued, tops to lipsticks, tissues with mascara on them, cords for braiding bracelets, two hundred differently hue�d beads, a broken Art Gum eraser, several too short colored pencils, bits of feathers from a lover�s hair, dust and lint and crumbs everywhere, a crumpled bit of paper where the only ink says �Do you care?�, a still intact light from a christmas tree, bits of hope for you and me, a pile of photos, with one person removed, a stocking, a sock, a shoe and a glove, a nail polish in a shade of red, that appealed but is discontinued, a penny found and one that�s lost, years of stories told at cost, fine foods and living, a braided bit of horse hair from rides we loved, a wicked smile, a hidden sigh, a single tear from one blue eye, a collection of confetti some old and some new, another mismatched shoe, panties and bras and gloves and hats, oh hats oh hats, a section of newspaper announcing plans for elections and parties and who the fuck cares, a broken toy car, a lead soldier�s arm, a dog named Landshark, a plastic harp, a bit of a loom from long long ago, Uncle Bob�s undies, a story of woe, a noise from outside all tires and hiss, a cloth handkerchief, a pile of playlists each with a mission, and now we go to the next cushion, a house on a cliff side somewhere in Spain, a gunshot woman lying in rain, a brunette, a blonde, and one in between, a man at a window wishing for more, a bit of a wall that held people apart, a tiny crystal jar that holds some heart, a dance with a stranger, a ride on a train, a girl with a face that people called plain, a room in an hotel numbered 13, a floor of a loft covered with hay that provides a place for us to play, a sigh, a shrug, an ancient Persian rug, dinner for two with ice wine drinks, a wonder and wish for what she thinks, some sand from feet that walked a shore, two hundred small shells that have never been worn, a crashing wave, a bright night�s moon, an explosion of thunder that would fill a room, a small child singing, a flat tire, a heaving breast, a sad soft orgasm, a missing letter, a photo of light, a crumb of red velvet cake, a large pile of chicken bones, a mixing caldron without a broom, a house on a street, a rustle of leaves, an urgent need to please, a group portrait of riders tall one in front, a ribbon of blue, a murmur of love, a trip to South Africa and one to France, torn tickets to movies, a ballet program with a phone number scratched out, a sneeze, a wrinkle so critically eyed that when discovered its owner cried.�

So pound the cushions and vacuum with care, this sofa�s our history, it�s been everywhere

And Bob oh Bob, the kiddies delight; poor Bob has passed, this very night.

� Amanda 2011
8/23/2011
Quote

Nice Day Together

I asked her to join me, to escape our space together, �Come on, please, you and I need some sun, a walk, there are lots of things to see. Join me?� She looked up from the bed and grumpily retorted �Bah, I am sleepy.� �I know but I swear you�ll like this place, it�s not far from here, and if you really don�t have a little fun we can come home. The list I�ve made up isn�t long, the things we need I mean; but it�s an adventurous place.� I pull on her long left foot that sticks out from under the cream colored sheets. I knead the arch and play with her toes. She clutches my thumb between her great and index toe and squeezes hard. I love the touch and strength and flexibility she has with them. �All right,� she sighs �I�m getting up.� �YAY!� I yell and her dog, Landshark, lying with his head on his front paws, perks his ears and grins at me.

Forty Five minutes later and we are in the Whole Foods Interbay parking lot, the grey Prius parked far from the doors to escape the dents and scrapes and scratches required to be issued by all of the yuppie assault vehicles in the lot. She has her arm in mine, a wide brimmed straw hat, a grey loose skirted high waist line soft fabric dress and her favorite ballet flats on. Her head swings from side to side, and behind the dark filter of her sunglasses I can see her eyes move as her interest grows. Her mood is improving and I�m so grateful it�s a sunny day. She turns and smiles at me and my day glows.

I�ve grabbed a microscopic hand cart and am reviewing my list while she�s staring at the huge stack of specials beside the entry door, single woman shoppers, and mothers with toddlers are wandering in and passing us. �Look!� she points with her long fingers. �LOOK at all the types of SOUP!� I laugh and point out �You hate canned soups silly.� �I know, but oh my God, look at this, �Organic Asparagus Cheddar Cheese Soup with Whole Asparagus Heads�!� I try to keep from giggling but am unable; and moments later we have two cans in the cart.

We�ve separated while I cruise quickly through the store. We�ve agreed to meet in the florist section, and I�ve picked up all of the required items for our dinner, a thick fillet of beef tenderloin in a purple that she will love; a small head of radicchio, a red pear, and 4 ounces of Roquefort cheese for the salad, a half dozen eggs for the vinaigrette and for her breakfast tomorrow; the butcher had some nice wastage for Landshark. I arrive at the floral displays and see her immediately; she�s kneeling on the floor and leaning her face far forward into some large display of orchids, her left hand gently caressing a white bloom as she smells their rich aroma. I move up beside her and she turns to greet me. �Oh, I saw these in Hawaii and they are so lovely; I wish I had room in the apartment for one, but see how large they grow and how they bloom so wonderfully?� I nod and lose myself in her happiness. �Perhaps when you move, I�m sure there will be room there for some.� �Oh yes, there will be, and I know just where to put them near that bay window with the soft light from outside. They�ll do so well there.� �That�s soon now isn�t it, even further out I think you�ll enjoy it more.� She looks distracted for a moment, �Yes. It�s better there. Even Landshark will be happy.� She stands up now, reaching down beside where she knelt to pick up two bottles of Vin Glac�. �I found this in the wine section. I know it�s your favorite; can we get some strawberries for it, as you wrote?� I smile and nod slowly.

In the car, on our way back, her sunglasses in place, her hat on her lap, and her long hair lightened and in some places now golden, she sings softly to herself. Nearing her apartment she leans across the console and kisses me quickly on my cheek.

� Amanda 2011

8/23/2011
Quote

Dear Op Roo - thanks for your lovely response in my new, but sadly short-lived, topic in another forum.

I decided to write a little poem:


I felt that I needed a tonic
When new posts became piersmoronic
So I started a thread
But they banned me instead
I think that was rather ironic


Not a literary gem, but hope you like it anyway.


Ronnie Quote

LOL i fucking love it Quote

Nice Day Together

I asked her to join me, to escape our space together, �Come on, please, you and I need some sun, a walk, there are lots of things to see. Join me?� She looked up from the bed and grumpily retorted �Bah, I am sleepy.� �I know but I swear you�ll like this place, it�s not far from here, and if you really don�t have a little fun we can come home. The list I�ve made up isn�t long, the things we need I mean; but it�s an adventurous place.� I pull on her long left foot that sticks out from under the cream colored sheets. I knead the arch and play with her toes. She clutches my thumb between her great and index toe and squeezes hard. I love the touch and strength and flexibility she has with them. �All right,� she sighs �I�m getting up.� �YAY!� I yell and her dog, Landshark, lying with his head on his front paws, perks his ears and grins at me.

Forty Five minutes later and we are in the Whole Foods Interbay parking lot, the grey Prius parked far from the doors to escape the dents and scrapes and scratches required to be issued by all of the yuppie assault vehicles in the lot. She has her arm in mine, a wide brimmed straw hat, a grey loose skirted high waist line soft fabric dress and her favorite ballet flats on. Her head swings from side to side, and behind the dark filter of her sunglasses I can see her eyes move as her interest grows. Her mood is improving and I�m so grateful it�s a sunny day. She turns and smiles at me and my day glows.

I�ve grabbed a microscopic hand cart and am reviewing my list while she�s staring at the huge stack of specials beside the entry door, single woman shoppers, and mothers with toddlers are wandering in and passing us. �Look!� she points with her long fingers. �LOOK at all the types of SOUP!� I laugh and point out �You hate canned soups silly.� �I know, but oh my God, look at this, �Organic Asparagus Cheddar Cheese Soup with Whole Asparagus Heads�!� I try to keep from giggling but am unable; and moments later we have two cans in the cart.

We�ve separated while I cruise quickly through the store. We�ve agreed to meet in the florist section, and I�ve picked up all of the required items for our dinner, a thick fillet of beef tenderloin in a purple that she will love; a small head of radicchio, a red pear, and 4 ounces of Roquefort cheese for the salad, a half dozen eggs for the vinaigrette and for her breakfast tomorrow; the butcher had some nice wastage for Landshark. I arrive at the floral displays and see her immediately; she�s kneeling on the floor and leaning her face far forward into some large display of orchids, her left hand gently caressing a white bloom as she smells their rich aroma. I move up beside her and she turns to greet me. �Oh, I saw these in Hawaii and they are so lovely; I wish I had room in the apartment for one, but see how large they grow and how they bloom so wonderfully?� I nod and lose myself in her happiness. �Perhaps when you move, I�m sure there will be room there for some.� �Oh yes, there will be, and I know just where to put them near that bay window with the soft light from outside. They�ll do so well there.� �That�s soon now isn�t it, even further out I think you�ll enjoy it more.� She looks distracted for a moment, �Yes. It�s better there. Even Landshark will be happy.� She stands up now, reaching down beside where she knelt to pick up two bottles of Vin Glac�. �I found this in the wine section. I know it�s your favorite; can we get some strawberries for it, as you wrote?� I smile and nod slowly.

In the car, on our way back, her sunglasses in place, her hat on her lap, and her long hair lightened and in some places now golden, she sings softly to herself. Nearing her apartment she leans across the console and kisses me quickly on my cheek.

� Amanda 2011

8/23/2011




mmm l fucking loved this... made me feel like l was a spy in the house (grocery store) of love and hope...xox
SL
ps... l think l can still smell the orchids in her hair Quote

The Last Cushion

Standing now, over the couch, where Bob slept, the kiddies have departed, their party hats, confetti, noise makers, snap crackers, empty punch glasses, paper plates with cake icing smears, cheery party napkins all bagged and ready to go out �

*the third cushion draws, compels, its needs so clear, clean me here, like Alice�s meal, needing to be dear, to make us tall or small, the cushion calls*

�shadows beneath, gleaming things, bright sparks aplenty, lights and whirls and it spins and jumps, the danger toy that wants her heart, so sharp and edged and dark, leaving marks; a soft scent of perfume on a warm summer day; the sound of feet sliding and lifting in dance, giving us all one more chance; a pigs ear half gnawed; a new summer dress, with flowers and long hems, she�ll like it the best; a few soft tunes, to sweep her around; a newly cleaned room; a cheery groomed hound; an assortment of strings, some heart, some package, some marionette, some that make rings; a healing ointment, for half broken hearts; a book of virtues, to teach us her part; links for music, links for words, links for puppies, and some for a lover who's seldom heard; a quiet night voice, to lull her to sleep; a clean lace hanky, in case we weep; a crime scene photographer, standing guard at the door, my blood pools on the tile floor; photos of seas tossed by a storm, a photo of the man, whose love is her's; small bits of booty, and sweet tater chips; a container of rice, and some smudges of dips; a lip smack; a makeup less chin; a smile of delight, from jinxes she�ll win; a drift to the story, a small delight; a darkness at dawn, a bright florescent light; a song of honey, that fills the room; a long term love, won�t end too soon; a care for small creatures, including rats; a suitcase that�s empty, wants to be packed; a child�s kaleidoscope, shows only hearts; a narrow doorway, to allow her to depart; a clutter of costumes, masks, crayons, fine papers, fabrics, inks and supplies; a cluster of ladybugs trying to hide; a rat�s nest of wires, power strips and cords; a show on cat women, who love to hoard; a folder of sweet dreams, to please her thighs; a kind pair of eyes; an end to beginnings, a future so bright, it blinds with hope, and fills with delight; and here in the corner, deep down in the crease, a tiny bit of me there, to give you relief.�

The stains and fray holes spell history, and we�ve had enough.

Like Bob it�s now over, its springs have no �puff�.

This couch has a journey to make and it�s clear;

Like Bob it�s departing, new furniture here.

� Amanda 2011
8/24/2011
Quote

Classic one...

If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son! Quote

One night a man had a dream.
He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD.
Across the sky flashed scenes from his life.
For each scene, he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand:
one belonging to him, and the other to the LORD.



When the last scene of his life flashed before him
he looked back, at the footprints in the sand.
He noticed that many times along the path of his life
there was only one set of footprints.
He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of his life.



This really bothered him and he questioned the LORD about it:
"LORD, you said that once I decided to follow you,
you'd walk with me all the way.
But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life
there is only one set of footprints.
I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me."



The LORD replied:
"My son, My precious child, I love you and I would never leave you,
During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."



Quote

Dog Moments

My life, for many years, but more so now that I write, has always fragmented time. Odd shift jobs, cam modeling, live in housekeeping, these avenues of employment fragment time into what I call �dog moments�. The concept is easy to understand of course; a dog, in an anthropomorphic twist made by humans, lives seven years for each human one. It would be far too easy and non-poetic to simply say that dogs have a normal life span of about 10 to 13 or so years. And now, in the past three years, I�ve come to understand why we alter how we speak of a dog�s time.

My days are shattered into small splinters, fragments of moments, or hours, that sleep is interspersed into. I grab a 10 or 60 minute nap, and then; I am back involved with the multiple things that I do each 24 hour period; writing, editing, blogging, online chat, cam modeling, caring for the 300 lb. disabled woman I am responsible for, snatch a nap, search historic information for some story, or part of a novel I am working on, or email a friend describing a dress, or a nail polish or some shiny bit of the universe that�s caught my eye; or, *shake and moan* chatting with the girl I love so much, my own special Marina Tsvetaeva type match, the obsession of my heart.

This clutter of moments, with sudden shifts of concentration, and tiny bits of rest and sleep jammed in where possible (think: waiting in the car for my disabled friend, 6 and one half minutes of sleep), has made it almost impossible for me to say just when something occurred in the past, or to know, unless facing a glowing screen with a clock icon displayed in one corner or another, exactly what the day, date, or time right now is. Seemingly, subjectively, for each moment, I have lived seven; for each hour at least seven, days? I think months; my life a flurry of seasons with the sun and moon and clouds and snow and seeds popping from soil whirling in my head.

I live in dog moments. So please understand, it�s not solely that I am blonde, if I appear confused, or delay a bit when asked �How was your day Amanda?�

� Amanda 2011

9/2/2011

Quote

Ophelias_Rue

Definitions at:

http://www.thefreedictionary.com/rue
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/rue

Oxford Dictionary of English Folklore:

By coincidence, the name of this plant (from Greek, via French) is identical with an English word meaning �to regret bitterly�, and so the plant symbolized grief or repentance. Discussing Herefordshire wedding customs, Ella M. Leather records an incident where a jilted girl waited in the porch at her ex-lover's wedding and, as the couple emerged, threw a handful of rue at them, in a parody of the throwing of flower petals, saying, �May you rue this day as long as you live!� This curse was thought particularly effective because the rue �was taken direct from the plant to the churchyard, and thrown �between holy and unholy ground�, that is, between church and churchyard�. Other jilted girls had put a bunch of rue enclosing a half-eaten slice of bread and butter in the church porch (Leather, 1912: 115).

Medicinally, rue tea was used in East Anglia for stomach ache and as a spring tonic (Hatfield, 1994: 54, 56), but also to cause abortions (Chamberlain, 1981: 122, 128).

Read more: http://www.answers.com/topic/rue-1#ixzz1YUPs2SJb and
Mabillard, Amanda. Ophelia. Shakespeare Online. 20 Aug. 2000.

Gertrude: When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death. (4.7.2)

Often, chatters will inquire of me, from where it is that I derive my many screen names. Of all those that I have woven for my, and other�s entertainment, perhaps even more so than betenoir, Ophelias_Rue, is dearest to my own heart.

I had come across an essay and analysis of Shakespeare�s, y'ou'ng girl character, in an online literary site several years ago. The particular analysis of her soliloquy, following Hamlet�s mur'der of her father, which placed the final rock in her frock�s pocket, touched me deeply. The site�s URL escapes me, and having searched in vain for it for some time, I will attempt to describe the rewrite in summary. Shakespeare has Ophelia delivering rue to a grouping of other characters as per the description I�ve pasted above from the Dictionary of English Folklore; the rewrite, more interestingly I believe, has her deliver from a bunched bouquet of various herbs, different single picks to each character; for each one is chosen a particular herb or plant to describe their own failures, justices, and needs. That rewrite led me to choose this favored screen name; it is she, who has ruled my poetry thread since its resurrection.

So, now, someone having handed me what might be a final rock for my own gown�s pocket, I thought I might share this with you. I know that I�ve promised, previously, to depart, this amazing place, but I�ve found it quite difficult to hand out my rue�s, to lose my grip upon so many of you that I�ve come to love. I have been fading, mostly from the forum threads so far, and the demands placed upon my time, will reduce my visibility in other areas here as well; until finally that large stone gifted me, will complete the process for us all.


Ophelia�s Rue

Ophelia or Gertrude, men see us in this way, virginal or whore-like
either one, they play. Wrap us in their hatreds; have us all our lives,
using us as love�s game pieces, which would be their wife? While we,
Sweet Nothings, dance upon this stage; watching our moves so close,
with care, which will make them flee and which will make them stay?
Some will stand apart, so bright, unique in thought and heart;
for those my rues are mulled with sorrows, will you wander in my morrows?

� Amanda 2011

9/20/2011


NOTE TO READERS AND VS-'PEOPLE'

I find it appalling that management of this site, has chosen not only to censor language in model's rooms, that at least is somewhat understandable; but also to institute, with all the gravity of a f'ing mor'on, censorship in the forums? While it has LONG been clear to me, and I have repeatedly pointed out to other contributers to the forums offered here, that there IS NO FREE SPEECH IN A COMMERCIAL SITE, THIS POST had to be completely reentered to hack at the words 'm'u'r'd'e'r and for Christ's HoleY F'ING sake y'o'u'n'g. Now, what is even MORE galling, is that when a post is rejected for using THOSE SIMPLE WORDS, the ENTIRE ENTERED TEXT IS CLEARED. *sigh* Really, the question becomes WHO is more J'U'V'E'I'L'E here, management or angry ranting people?

BAH(tm)

Quote

cf detailed Rue explanation...


Goooooooood.... gooooooooooooooooooooood!

With her sinking down I will be able to manipulate, enslave, and torture sweet innocents... My life's purpose... My destiny!!!!

Bwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

Character is what you do in the dark! Marriage is the tool of the dark man... his delight!

Quote

cf detailed Rue explanation...


Goooooooood.... gooooooooooooooooooooood!

With her sinking down I will be able to manipulate, enslave, and torture sweet innocents... My life's purpose... My destiny!!!!

Bwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

Character is what you do in the dark! Marriage is the tool of the dark man... his delight!




ohhh dudley still vapid at times within your sad self; the outcomes that you've taken so to heart *sad sorrows for each morrow* had you only managed to be my Laertes....

here.. i found this, for you, after trying so hard to locate the contemporary rewrite of the Elsinore scene...

OPHELIA
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love,
remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

LAERTES
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA
There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end,--

Quote

had you only managed to be my Laertes....




Your brother?!? Nobody wants that! I'd be the kind of brother who always goes through your diary, breaking the clever lock you've attached and also the kind that tells on you. You know... the little, obnoxious brother.

Ahhhhh but Shakespeare mmmmmmmmmm and 'erbs. Mykinda show!

Perhaps you are merely going through a weary time, such a weary time, and perhaps you need some nurturing like those plants.

Very well. First we will turn off that awful racket and play some Mozart. It doesn't matter too much what except that it probably shouldn't be only cat's guts... there should be winds and percussion, movement and voice. It doesn't matter if it is dark or light, just that it is good.

And wine. Sit back. Kick up those well worn heels and treat yourself to some of the finest you can get your hands upon.

Now what possible events could have taken away your... zest? In this new light how serious can they possibly be? Can you really tear yourself away from your arena? From your stage? Have you really accomplished all you can in this venue?

Did the response not match the effort? Was the struggle not worth the price? Did you misinterpret the mute, the tired, the distracted?

Well a little time away may refresh but I suspect the bull, the sensi bull will charge back into the arena. Quote

Awwwright! Since Rue seems to be setting sail to that undiscovered country... Since she has decided is more prudent to not take wing 'gainst the slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune... Since the sun has started to set perhaps on her sanity...

This thread is under new management! And I want numbers!

*crack*

Feel the whip! This galley needs to pull strong for the enemy! (doom doom doom (rapid tempo))

*crack*

Lounging around contemplating your navels? Still in your underwear in the middle of the day?

*crack*

Unacceptable! I measure by the weight in pounds of verse... tons of prose!

*crack*

Get to it my pretties! Or I will come for you in the night!

Quote