But I digress… I had wanted to update a bit on the subject of my stretched earlobes.
I haven’t written on this subject since March. Wow. I really lied didn’t I? *sigh* Apologies.
I sort of moved up to a 2g stretch. I purchased a couple pieces and wear them occasionally. They are no problem at all to wear so I suppose I am a 2g. It is just that I often wear my 4g spirals just as often.
March, wow. I haven’t written on this subject, I haven’t written at all, on any subject. I hope I can locate some sort of free mental time again to do this. To write, anything.
March… That is about the time I began to really start seeing someone special. My life went topsy-turvy, most things in it changed. Little or no time for staring out the window and writing. Regretfully I admit it is still that way but am hoping to work it back it in somehow. Ohhhh, somehow 
But I digress… I had wanted to update a bit on the subject of my stretched out earlobes.
I don’t have time to post some of the pictures I’ve managed to keep taking randomly but there are a couple things I want to say.
I have discovered that despite my attraction to saddle plugs I doubt I will continue to purchase them. I loose them 
They pop right out without my knowing it in bed, while removing shirts, or helmets, or whatnot. *sigh*
Straight plugs also I almost loose because I’ve lost several of the o-rings that hold them in place then I realize it’s missing and “omg my jewelry could totally fall out and minute!” This has happened while washing my hands and looking in the mirror at work.
I must be abnormally rough my ears! hehe.
(Make sure match the o-ring size with the jewelry’s size, or slightly smaller, so they stay on. I know, that is of course the logical. But just… don’t ponder that just because this 2g o-ring seems to stay snugly on that 4g plug does not mean that it will, all day. *sigh* I have various sizes and have done that several times. Sometimes they stay on fine, sometimes I look up into the bathroom mirror and freak out because I realize I’ve quite nearly lost my jewelry. )
Because of these things I have become quite attracted to the plugs that have one side flared and the other has a screw on back piece. Not an o-ring. They’re generally a tad more expensive, but I doubt I would loose those 
Spirals and hanging pieces are still my favorite. They stay in, and some of them are just pretty.
I have a couple pairs I wear often. One, black horn spirals with a white inlaid design. The second pair are carved saba wood hangers. They’re very pretty, I like them quite a lot.
Ohhh, and another thing… the sharp ends of these pieces are strong. They aren’t so fragile that I have to be careful of breaking the tips off.
I’ll post some pics so you might understand what I mean. It’s horn, or wood… they aren’t as fragile as they might appear.
These are just the things I’ve noticed in the past several months. Also, that stretching to a 2g from a 4g was noooo big deal AT ALL. I have much more to say regarding the details of that. The… my experience may not be like your experience and here’s why kind of things.
Due mainly to my not having attempted to stretch my ears for such a long time. They were in excellent condition, perfectly healed and skin supple and thick again. (Or, I think that is why it was no big deal anyway. I know it’s just one size up from where I was but… well… all I really have to go on is what I read/research and my own experience… opinion.)
I’ll try and come back soon
Bonanza
P.S.
I just noticed I was incorrect to lament that I haven’t written on this subject since March. It seems I did manage to slip in a tidbit in September. Still no pictures though. *sigh* I have pictures. I MUST get some sort of me-time piddling back in my life, for pondering, for writing, for silliness and seemingly unimportant passions.
…it will be given a name and people will sigh.
There is something appearing rather slowly.
Soon it will be so solid and encompassing that we exclaim how it “just sneaks up”!
Then it will be given a name, and people will sigh.
I feel happy today way down deep.
Felt it in the woolen socks I slipped over my cold toes.
Saw some in the shine of my cat’s fur as she lay in a sun-filled spot and I sipped morning coffee.
Let it in now if you can; it is seeping…
(akin to arriving late to a party and feeling the need to drink to “catch up”)
you may feel less like buying it later.
*wink* ♥
…for the longest time I couldn’t slip in without it being a stinging experience?
I have not “moved on up”… I became distracted…
by my girlfriend
and by scootering
and probably some other things but oh well.
I think I will remain at a 4gauge for awhile longer. I have been able to find some hanging pieces that I like and are 4g.
(I’d previously noted that many of the prettier, well-made pieces were at least 2g. It may be that I was not looking thoroughly enough.)
I *did* however order a pair of 2g spirals along with a pair of carved sabo wood 4g hangers that are on their way to me right now, so perhaps if I end up wearing those spirals more than anything else I’ll probably creep up to a 2guage. I ordered them in a 2g because I think that is what I want to do still. (go up to a 2g) but I’m in no hurry and am not totally sure. I also know very well that I can wear 2g spirals in a 4g ear lobe, just don’t push them around to the fattest section. (elementary) The sabo wood hangers are a 4g and I’ll probably wear them quite a lot.
Wood over amber first time around because I want to be able to just leave them in and I’m afraid I may break the amber ones in my sleep. Durability over fragility at least until I get used to having them or get used to removing them before bed.
I’m so used to wearing saddle plugs now I may not be able to wear the spirals or hangers to bed, ha. I mean, one does notice and occasionally feel the pointy end when tossing and turning and laying your head deeply into the softest fluffiest down pillow ever.
(I have mentioned before that I like soft, I like pretty, and I am a pain wuss right? Note it. All true.)
I’ll snap a few pics and share I am sure when they come in… you know how I love my cameras any excuse for a photo opp. That’s me.
Remember those fat-ended glass saddle plugs that for the longest time I couldn’t slip in without it being a stinging experience? (sigh) Yeh, I put those in one day I think shortly before July. Slipped right in without much difficulty. Proving again, that when it comes to the skin of your precious lobes, the longer you leave them alone at one size, the more supple and easier they accept the pushing and pulling of whatever jewelry you decide to wear. (Note: when shopping you’ll notice sometimes that certain kinds/pieces advise to not wear unless your lobes have fully healed, etc.)
I’ve been a 4g for I dunno, a year now. I haven’t tried to go further up. The only time I pushed it was when I tried to get those damned fat-ended glass multi-faceted saddle plugs in!! Forgot about them for the longest time, gave up on them really. Then one random day I thought I’d give them a quick try because they’d look good with whatever I was wearing… warm water, tiny bit of soap suds… pop, right in. *smile*)
F.Y.I.
Yes, just out of the shower like I’ve said all along, it’s the prime time. Anyway, I plopped the black horn saddle plugs out (they stay in quite nicely btw, not painful to put in, they stay in, not hard to take out. I’ll go ahead and say it… They are perfect saddle plugs. (black with abelone spiral inlay, they’re in my pics)
Hope this update made some sense I am posting without doing much of a read-thru. However, I thought an update was certainly due!
Must rush off for now though… girlfriend is coming home tomorrow after being gone for over a month, got a little straightening up to.
(oh dear, I just made a funny… ahahahahahaha)(straightening up… that just made me laugh. I’m such a nerd.)
This is NOT a filthy air filter :\ darn, cuz that would have been easy.
Clementine has begun to occasionally lose power (hesitate). Sometimes it’s a couple of little hesitations and then she’s fine. Sometimes a couple of hesitations in power lead to slowing down regardless of whether I increase the throttle or not, she just slows, like she’s trying but just can’t, then dies. Nothing to stop her. It’s happened a few times now. Of course I pull over to the side of the road and have a little mental freak-out, is she ok? what’s wrong?? (Twice it happened not while riding but when I attempted to start her before riding. She turns over perfectly fine, just won’t actually start.)
If I attempt to start her after I pull over and she’s just given out, nothing. It tries, just doesn’t catch.
Each time… if I wait about 10 minutes, not touch her, then I try again and she starts and rides fine.
My plan to remedy this is to drop her off over at her mechanic and request he clean her carb, check the hoses, spark plug, etc.
BUT… IN THE MEANTIME, or… this morning when I woke early and felt adventurous… I wanted to take a look at the air filter at least, right? I mean, before I dropped her off I was curious to see just how dirty she may be up in there. So I figured I would take a look. I didn’t even know where the air filter housing was or if the filter had ever been changed. (I know! that’s horrible… I know.) *sigh*
But I knew it was supposed to be easy and one of the first things to check. So, I did…
AND this is NOT a filthy air filter!! I mean, it’s not, right??…
So I put everything back into place and started her up to make sure I hadn’t screwed anything up, she purred fine. Going to go drive her to work in a bit. Hmmm
I wonder if I had something to do with that…
Just yesterday I notice an emphasis of rentability for a building across the street that has been available for many months now. There were FOR RENT signs, three, one on the door and one placed in each of the large front windows and I thought, “Is that more than the usual amount. I thought there was just one, or two. Hmm, they must really want to let people know it’s still up for rent.
Today I see workers going in to have it remodeled.
Part of me, ok most of me, is pleased because it’s about time someone was able to rent and pay for the sadly neglected little building to be made shiny & pretty. (at least I hope that’s what is happening) It’s always been ramshackle, ever since Metro Three was there when I first moved in to the windows across the street. After Metro Three left there were a few businesses that tried to take hold there but didn’t remain. But for nearly a year now it’s been closed up.
There is another tiny part of me however that is fearful of who/what kind of business has the kind of money to turn the place around. Typically it’s the flashy, useless kind. Selling overpriced products or services that cater to those who need to be seen wearing or utilizing overpriced products/services. … …(sigh). The world as we know it.
Please don’t trash up my block whoever you are.
UPDATE (Nov. 2011) :
It is a fancy clothing store.
It has been decided. “I’m moving on up”…
I’m going up to a 2 guage.
Promise to post more often than I have been while doing this.
Lately I haven’t posted much because I’ve stayed at a 4guage for (?) I don’t know at the moment., would have to go back through these blogs looking at dates. Less than year I am sure. Regardless, there hasn’t been much to share. My lobes are in excellent condition and when I leave them empty for a day it’s still easy to slip my smaller saddle plugs in or the horn spirals (which are my favorite of all that I wear.) AND, the empty hole in my ear really isn’t that large or freaky looking either. (I say that because No, I do not care to have large saggy holes in my ears when I wear nothing in them.) In considering this, the decision to stretch on up to a 2g., I have even considered my future self, little 80 year old lady ears… oh yes I have, and I think I’ll be fine *wink*.
I do not however, think I’ll be fine when I’m 80 if I go up to a 0 guage.
So… To future self (aprox. one to two years from now) Please reread this posting and PAY ATTENTION.)
Thank you,
Self.
This past weekend I lost one of my amber plugs, and then one of my turquoise the next day! Pisser. Grrrrrr…
Was going to order replacements when it occured to me that what I really want are more spirals or carved hanging pieces, and what I was tired of is trying to be mindful while wearing the saddle plugs with the smaller flares and not slide or press things up against my earlobes!
I know, that sounds odd and not like anything that one does, but it is… (I’ve sad it before, it’s worth saying again) Pulling on and off tight shirts (yes, though you may be surprised), pulling off a motorcycle helmet (yes, most especially!!), during sex (yes, though you may however locate it somewhere in the sheets the following morning).
mmmm… I’ve already picked out and practically ordered the pret-ty, pret-ty spirals I’ve been wanting for some time but haven’t ordered because the smallest they came was a 2guage… mmm they will soon be decorating my lovely lobes… mmm
More to come *wink*,
Bonanza
For my Lover… she is full tonight.
It was a motorcycle’s revving beneath my windows that woke me.
But it is the Moon who’s lulled me into this wakefulness. Entranced by her attentions I finally rise & look out…
I find her, full.
Aglow with a panging for companionship.
Yes. I fell off… kissed the pavement, one might say.
“No wonder my shoulder still hurts”.
This was my thought last evening upon noticing a nasty little scrape on the shoulder of my leather motorcycle jacket. It’s located more on the top of the shoulder than front so I hadn’t noticed it the day before when I had actually taken the fall from my scooter. (Clearly I went down more head first than body.)
Yes. I fell off. We had a little crash Monday. Or, well… we didn’t crash into anything but the pavement itself. I was avoiding a nasty lil’ pothole in the road. Trying to rather, cannot remember whether I hit it or lost traction in my attempt to brake and swerve.
Yes, I applied both brakes equally, and yes, I was mindful not to turn the wheel drastically, quickly. I just saw the pothole too late and the road’s surface was probably still dewey from the morning.
Clementine and I are both fine, just a few scratches. Falls happen. It was a minor fall but a reminder that it’s a real thing that happens to us all and I am writing this down to remind myself and others the importance of remembering that fact. When we ride about in the summertime with shorts and half helmets (as we all do and I know we won’t stop doing it, not even I) to just try not to forget what *could* happen. It could be a scrape, it could be hospitalization, or worse. Scooters are awesome fun, but let’s not forget even riding a bicycle around town can be dangerous. Let’s always be mindful of ourselves AND others.
One of my favorite bumper stickers has always been:
“Start Seeing Bicycles”. (and joggers and scooterists and pedestrians and streetcars… all you people in automobiles.)
ok… I’ll stop preaching. I merely wanted to write down what I remember so that I may come back and read it from time to time:
It’s morning, lots of traffic (people on their way to work). I pull onto a side street with no traffic (thank Goodness! or there’d of been some slamming of brakes when cars spotted me and my scooter lying in the street in front of them). I’m starting to increase speed when I see a sinkhole type pothole in the road, a small but deep one. I knew if I went into it the front wheel would hit the steep wall of it at the speed I was increasing to (which may have only been 5 or 10 mph) I would be cartwheeled over. I remember pulling in the brakes and attempting to slightly swerve. I do not remember whether it was the dewey road surface or if I hit the edge of the hole that tipped me over. I do not remember what happened exactly or precisely how I fell.
The most vivid recollection, and this is the part that I mainly wanted to share with everyone, is the moment of falling, knowing it was happening, in those seconds… I knew my face was about to hit the pavement (yes, I said face, not head) I saw it coming, knew it was about to happen and I remember the loud clunk when my helmet made contact with the street, my eyes had been open still. As this happened, milliseconds before the clunk! my brain calmly stated: “Thank God I’m wearing my full-face” CLUNK!!!
I’m sure the sound of it echoed down the street.
My pretty face is fine, thank you for worrying *wink*.
I got up, Clementine was on her side, engine still running. Hit the kill switch, and stood for a moment, dazed probably, and hoping she was ok. I felt fine, my knee burned. Checked my jeans, there was no hole in the knee but I could the feel burning of the scrape and knew the skin would be bruised and roughed up underneath.
Trepidation mounted as I bent to lift Clementine from the street. She’s plastic ya’ know… I became fearful of seeing a severely cracked or busted frontpiece. She was ok. Still solid. Lifted her back up and pushed her over to the sidewalk to inspect closely and calm down.
The damage was only scrapes all along the edge of the legshield where I’m sure she took the hit and then skidded along the pavement a bit. A small piece of chrome edging was still lying sadlyand alone in the road. I went to pick it up and it was all scraped-up too. Not sure why but I think I placed it in my pocket. (I mean, it’s just a piece of faux chrome door edging one might trim the edges of a car door with.) Sentimental I am though I suppose.
I got back on, started her, and sat there for a few moments before driving off. Noticed the brake/parking lights of a black SUV parked just ahead of me on the other side of the road. After a few moments a prep school girl got out, crossed the street and walked past me, the unsure but concerned look on her face made it clear she’d seen it, or at least noticed the aftermath of it… we smiled at one another but didn’t say anything. I should have asked if she saw it happen. I would have liked to have heard someone describe it for me. I know she saw it happen. Oh well. I gave her a reassuring smile as if to say I was ok, she returned it and went on to class. With a story to tell I am sure. …I don’t mind.
When I got back home I actually looked at my helmet. Nasty scrapes. I took a couple photos because I had decided I wanted to post.
I very often mention to scooterists that they should wear more than just a half helmet. I’ve often wondered why shops seem to push the half-helmets to scooterists. Imprinting in our minds that that is the kind of helmet a scooterist is supposed to wear.
No, for real, I have always wondered this. Yes, I already know the answers. I suppose I have merely never agreed with them. I’m not one for taking my face for granted I suppose. hehe, being an admitted narcissist an all *wink*.
I remember when Norman Robinson (WDSU news anchorman) walked into my office one afternoon a year or so ago and asking me about scooters. Informed me he was about to purchase one, etc. (He does have a sweet one now, and still rides it to work when the weather is nice.) I also remember sadly noticing the expensive and very pretty leather trimmed Vespa half-helmet sitting on his also very pretty GTS300 Vespa the first day he drove it to work.
Specifically I had advised him, “just be sure to buy a full-face helmet Norman, the last thing you’d want is to have that pretty camera face scratched up.” I said it jokingly, but it was in my opinion, the most valuable advice I gave him. … Oh well.
No, he hasn’t scraped up his face. Yes, I believe he’s taken a fall or two. But the “what if” has just always been something I think about I guess.
I hope I don’t forget the vision of the street coming at my face and the reverberting sound of the CLUNK that happened as I watched through the visor my face streamlining for the pavement. (I will repeat… yes, I said face, not head. It happed that fast.) I am indeed thankful it is February and I was wearing jeans, gloves (which also have a scrape mark on the right hand palm) a sturdy leather jacket, and my blessed full-face “winter” helmet. Ohhhh Dear, Yes. Thankful it wasn’t summer when I wear a full helmet but not a full-face, when I wear shorts often, and rarely gloves. Thankful indeed.
I will add… this past summer I put shoulder armor in my Rally Patch jacket, I try to wear protective shoes/boots even with my shorts (yes, it’s a look, & I can rock it.) and I started wearing light gloves. Not a lot of protection I know but I say (as I pulled on my gloves in the summer knowing it makes me look like I think I’m some sort of badass when I’m only on a scooter. right? I feel kinda silly, but I started wearing them anyway.) The leather on the palms of my summer gloves is thin. Too thin for street riding as they are motocross gloves. But the street padded ones are never comfortable enough and I noticed I end up not wearing them as much. Anyway… I used to say (still say rather) that if I know I’m not going to wear the proper ones, some protection is better than no protection. (My summer gloves are totally cool looking, super comfy, and I enjoy slipping them on. That is a good thing at least.)
Just be careful out there my friends. That is all.
Mine was a small fall, a tip-over really. But my head and shoulder hit the ground hard. My hand clearly went out as well, as the scrape on my glove proves. Well, that and the bruising I can see under the skin. My shoulder and arm are sore. My knee has a couple little bloody scrapes. My neck is sore… but my skinny little narcissist’s face. Not a scratch.
I look at my helmet and try to imagine what would it have been like had it been my ‘Rock Star’ helmet I wear most of the time. If the faceshield would have busted to pieces and if my cheek or nose would have rubbed the pavement.
I don’t want anyone to be afraid to ride… I just want us to be aware of what could happen while we do and try to remain mindful of road rules, of not getting cocky in traffic even when some ass does something stupid, or the fact that even though scooters are Hella’ fun! and a most excellent mode of transportation… don’t take it for granted. You are on two wheels with a motor, and riding along in traffic, of course it’s dangerous.
oh. and watch out for large cracks in the road and potholes… they come at you quick, esp. if you’re riding at night.
I love you each & every one. Ride On.
Sincerely,
Bonanza Jellybn
Oh my darlin’ Clementine…
I’ve long pondered sharing my knowledge gained in riding a “cheap Chinese scoot” successfully and happily (going on six years now) because they get such a negative beating in the ‘rep’ department. I agree much of the bad reputation is probably deserved, I have been lucky/smart enough not to have had a negative experience. Quite the opposite actually. So I’ve wanted for a long time to put a little positive say-so out there as well.
Hopefully I will find time to write in detail the pros and cons I’ve experieced. That is the plan. Until I write more, anyone is welcome to ask questions when contemplating what to buy, what to expect, how much friggin fun a scooter is to ride, etc.
Meanwhile… Here is a current photo (January 2011) of Clementine, my 2005 Baron Retro 150-R.
I adore her. She has treated me well.
Bonanza & Clementine
the want is comparible to the “thin line between genius and insanity”
There is a vastness between what I want to do and what I actually do much of the time. (shame) Yet the want is comparable to the “thin line between genius and insanity”. I know this.
“Great wits are sure to madness near allied/ And thin partitions do their bounds divide.”
~Earl of Shaftesbury
(ahhh, my hero)
There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.
~Oscar Levant, (1906 – 1972)
The following excerpt may not be in full accord with the studies from article linked above, but ahhh but you get the gist of why this piece belonged here in my collection of thoughts also.
There is fact AND there is the thoughtfulness of literature.
“…every civilized culture in history has discriminated against its abnormal members. ‘Schizophrenia’ is a civilized Western term, and so are ‘witch’ and ‘misfit’– terms used to rationalize the cruel and unusual punishments doled out to extraordinary people. Yet the American Indian tribes, as you ought to know, treated their freaks as special beings. Their schizoids were recognized as having a gift, the power of visions, and were revered for it. The physically deformed were also regarded as favorites of the Great Spirit, welcome reliefs to the monotony of anatomical regularity, and everybody loved them, enjoyed them and paid them favor. In that ancient Greece that you find so glorious, somebody like me would have been killed at birth.”
~Tom Robbins, ‘Even Cowgirls Get The Blues’
(excerpt of conversation between Sissy Hankshaw and Julian Gitche, while lying nearly naked together on a couch for a day… or two, after first meeting)
The Swellagent Artichoke… (Well, did you evah?)
Little feet pounce across my chest. They are trying to get my attention, keep it rather…
She is awake and she is hungry. Once my eyes open (admitting wakefulness) I am done for.
I have never been one for jumping up immediately after waking.
(From time to time I do, because I love her. That one with the little pouncing feet.)
I have neither been one of those jump into cold water all at once people.
(Unless of course a swelling, prideful, bravado is called for.)
Jumping in all at once is a “Predator” movie! It is immediate adrenalin.
Wading in slowly, akin to ”Dinner With Andre’. It is manners, and opening a present one-handed.
(It is true, I will prefer French films to Hollywood blockbusters almost every time).
Slow is overlooked. Layering is good… this is what I am saying to you.
Lasagna
Tiramisu
As with so many other slow, overlooked, layered things the ”engaging conversation” is most divine.
The artichoke… (as metaphor):
I have never cooked one before (literal). Though they’ve been placed on a table before me (with butter and spice and everything nice) to pull away its intricate leaves, delight in scraping the thick ends with my teeth until reaching its golden center… the heart of it.
Even if the subject matter is trivial we may still walk away full, satisfied.
(Be it conversation, or artichoke.)
I suck at “Predator” conversations, though it should be simple right, you just go to the store, open the jar of hearts, pre-peeled, there for you to pick and choose.
“You know there’s never time enough
Like a book with missing pages
Like a story incomplete
Like a painting left unfinished
It feels like not enough to eat.
Starvin’ “
(“Little conversations” …Concrete Blonde- Free. …the story of my life.)
I’ve learned you cannot have them with everyone… the engaging conversation.
But there is nothing wrong with trying…
(Start with an artichoke, and wine).
Key, is this…
It’s not always about heart of something, or getting to it… but how one chooses to reach it.
It is about the reveal… This is what I am saying to you.
“It’s not worth writing the report if all you did is read the cliff notes.” ~B. Jellybn
“Life is a journey, not a destination” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
(For your enjoyment: “Fleur de Tease artistic director Trixie Minx discusses the art of burlesque” http://blog.nola.com/susanlangenhennig/2008/03/post.html)
(Ode to icy mountain waters… )
Many times as a child I have swung out over you, dangling bare toes.
Many times I have let go and plunged into you! Oh the thrill.
More often now, after years of experience leaping in… I choose slow submersion.
Of entering it’s near to unbearable freezing water, alive, moving…
Slippery rocks beneath my feet, an increasingly strong current pulling at my legs…
and being brave enough for another step… and another.
While the river smiles in anticipation to hold the whole of you… Me.
Occasionally I go to work with tiny little claw pricks on my nose. I get the point.
(But it’s ok… I still love her. That one with the sharp little claws and pouncing feet.)
—————————————-
I will add artichoke to my Thanksgiving menu this year.
—————————————-
~Cole Porter
Have you heard, amoung this clan
I am called ‘The forgotten man’?
Well, did you evah?
What a swell party this is!What frills, what frocks!
What furs, what rocks!
What gaiety!
It’s all to exquis!
That French champagne!
So good for the brain!
That bands, it’s the end!
Kindly don’t fall down my friend.
Have you heard? Professor Munch
Ate his wife and divorced his lunch.
Well, did you evah?
What a swell party this is!
Have you heard? The countess Krupp
Crossed the bridge when the bridge was up.
Well, did you evah?
What a swell party this is!
Have you heard that Mimsie Starr
Just got pinched in the Astor bar?
Well, did you evah?
What a swell party this is!
Have you heard that Uncle Newt
Forgot to open his parachute?
Well, did you evah?
What a swell party this is!
It’s great, it’s grand!
It’s wonderland!
What soup, what fish!
That beef, what a dish!
That grouse, so rare!
That aged camembert!
That bab au rhum!
Will you please move over chum?
Have you heard that dear old Blanch
Got run down by an avalanche?
Well, did you evah?
What a swell party this is!
Have you heard? It’s in the stars,
Next July we collide with Mars!
Well, did you evah?
What a swell party this is!
What a swellagent, elagent party this is!
Notes for an “October Tale”
I used to know someone who wrote out pages and pages in a notebook, free form writing.
I never read this notebook but I still remember what her handwriting looks like. I have a pleasant memory of watching her.
I don’t free form. Until an hour ago… I did a strange thing however, after the stream slowed and I pulled myself from its tow.
(Or perhaps not strange to those who free form.) Still in a dazed state I underlined sentences in the two page flow of randomness.
Two handwritten pages of unruled sentences… on sturdy paper in a lovely blue ink. Perhaps a perfect blue, and I don’t even like blue. Mostly. (Everyone likes blue. This could be why. I mean, I don’t think it’s really Blue’s fault.)
I’m typing these sentences out (together they are scary) to remind me later… Notes for an “October Tale”, to be told on cold nights, by candlelight.
-It went from distraction, to dreams, to madness.
-Quiet souls. (aimals eyes and movements, not people who become uglier to my glances)
-Hate disregard anger resentment disgust sadness ache… is how it (the madness) welled up inside.
-Now, what do I do with the empty gaping spaces where my empathy and kindnesses are now in low supply?
-Was it the moon or the black cat that took me? Took my sanity?
-The cold encases it (the empty spaces). Leaving dark hollows of the missing sane things.
-I can still stop myself from going there, slowly pull my *self* back.
-Holding onto the whisps of beautiful things life outside in the light still offer.
-Madness is solitary. Not enraged; calm.
Hunger and a solice entwined. It is scary but the seduction is strong.
Like crawling into the comforting folds of a warm blanket.
It kinda stung. It was not pleasant. I am not kidding.
The fatties are in… yes, I said it. Those faceted clear glass saddle plugs with the larger than usual ends are IN.
(*sigh* and they have been in for some time now) I’ll guess about 2-3 months. They aren’t going to slip out either, not in the shower, not when I pull a tight shirt over my head, not in the heat of anything… nope. They will not accidentally just slip out because they were DAMNED DIFFICULT to push in. It kinda stung. It was not pleasant. I am not kidding. Even after hot shower, lobe massage, AND one of the most important purchases ever for people who wear plugs… a taper set.
The tissue did not tear as I was very slow but persistent. Slow pressure being key I think… for not tearing, but stretching.
The plugs weren’t going in by hand, they just weren’t. Not with my low tolerance for pain and fear of tearing the fragile skin.
But I was determined that evening, there was an occasion where I needed to be well… more refined in my jewelry choices than black carved pieces of horn, or other colorful precious stone. Nope. The glass slippers were called for and I was determined.
Directly from the hot shower I stood at the bathroom sink running hot water over the 2 gauge tapers (because that is about the size of the ends of these 4 gauge glass plugs). Put a tiny bit of soap between my fingers and suds the very warm tapers up nicely. (With a touch of suds they become quite slippery!) These hot tapers I let hang from my lobes, at nearly the full circumference. A little sting and tingle from the heat and the pressure of the stretch. I left them hanging there for a couple of minutes until the heat was going away and then removed the tapers and attempted to slip the plugs in.
(I might have tried to push the 2g tapers all of the way through with the glass plugs behind and even though my tapers are concave (which I highly recommend) but I don’t know if it would have made this easier. I mean, my lobes are not a 2g and I was pushing the limits of my skin already. (ok, it at least felt like I was. Better safe than sorry. When you tear the skin it is far less likely to shrink back when you want them to go smaller again. AND one day, maybe when I’m 80, I may want that. Just sayin’.)
Ok… so I removed the tapers and began to push the glass plugs (which had been sitting in hot water so they were warm also) in through the inside, or back, of the lobe towards the outside so that I could see the progress of the push. A little cockeyed, or sideways is how I did it. I tried two ro three times, with patient and a bit painful perseverance I finally had success… with both ears.
They were sore and removing them will be just as difficult I am afraid as while saddled so prettily in my lobe, they are a true 4g and they fit perfectly. *sigh* Stretching to push a 2g fat end out I think my be just as trying and I should probably go ahead and purchase another pair crystal plugs. They are indeed lovely, but I won’t wear them much. I just doesn’t make sense.
Perhaps I’ll try out a pair of the ones that have only one fat side and slip through easily then you wear a ring to hold the back in place… or they have some with a screw back. But… alas… I prefer carved horn, bone, and stone.
I haven’t taken any photos since my little tiny camera was stolen… I’ll use my bigger camera or see if my little smartyphone’s pics are detailed enough for me.
My apologies for slacking off on the updates. I’ll write more when get the nerve to take these lovelies back out, or when I order more jewelry I wanna give a try. Which could be soon… as I found some pretty dark brown buffalo horn claws, and I’ve been looking for a natural but dark, dark brown 
We’ll see.
Sincerely,
Bonanza Jellybn
…when you look at a clock and think “I should go soon”. Time becomes elusive.
Where can I go to live where it feels like September/October/November in New Orleans for lengthier periods of time than in actual New Orleans? Or perhaps it’s more of the magic in the crevices that exists here and even if I moved away to Washington state or Virgina the simple, simple joy over I don’t even know exactly what, that I am feeling on a morning like this morning would be different. ??
I don’t know. I’ve only ever lived in 4 places my whole life. So far.
I just rearranged (began the process) my bedroom again. Slightly.
It is about time I used it more than for sleeping… but entertaining!
(No jokes please, though I know it is ripe for them. hehe)
I hope to be able to entertain more properly in here soon. Very soon.
As September is a beautiful month for cool evening breezes that sneak in through floor to ceiling windows and tickle your bare toes if you’re sitting back in a chair or comfy on an old wood floor, gathered around a coffee table and sipping wine or fancy cocktail, talking with friends.
Dangerous though, I can tell you. I’ve borne witness on several occasions where a-rooound about after 10pm when you look at a clock and think “I should go soon”… time becomes elusive. Akin perhaps to a child who doesn’t want to leave a place. It covers it’s eyes and hides away from you, out of sight out of mind.
You may not make it home until 2 or 3am.
But first… I must purge this place of sooo much… stuff.
Far too much clutter. Where oh where did my large closet go?
Oh. yeah. My landlord nabbed it. The buggar!
I am not good at letting things go…
Closet space, things I place into closets, and late night company.
…hoped to land upon something not meant to pique warm yummies … it did not happen.
Cut me and salt me
Hammer words in my metal
I’m thick-skinned and sweet
~Thea Hillman ‘Depending On The Light’
While waiting for a cooling video (Snow Day, as we are in a heat wave this summer and thought my facebook friends might enjoy a visual respite at least. Direct trigger to delightful memories of that day for them I hope.) to upload I picked up a book from a shelf to browse, read parts of, and regret that I do not sit and read more often.
I could not settle on a chapter or a single full poem, each one I landed on had to do with sex. Good, bad, past, future, etc. I became irritated as I continued to thumb through. Clearly I’d picked up the wrong book to peruse today.
Perhaps because it was still morning and I haven’t been awake all that long. Perhaps because someone’s memories poetically written so that we might all find a little bit of ourselves and our own memories/experiences in them and feel good, warm, or turned on was not actually pleasant. (despite the many pleasant and lovely experiences I have had.)
Reading the first few lines, then flipping pages I hoped to land upon something not meant to pique warm yummies … it did not happen. I placed the book back on the shelf.
I had been struck by the image of a young lesbian, somewhat “butch” in nature if not appearance who consecrates herself with little but the pursuit and enjoyment of… (thinking) well, the contents of these poems and shorts contained within that book. Oh, those silly and troublesome girls all filled with romantic notion and no attention span long enough, or promise made strong enough, to follow though with much other than lust.
I would have devoured the book lovingly if I were still in my twenties. But I am not. It might seem in my saying this that I am or have become uptight or stale, jaded. A wry sarcastic smile takes my lips at this thought process… I laugh to myself and how easily someone might assume and be wrong. Think as you will, what comes with age and various experiences is that I care less and less at what others assume. I more often than not use these assumptions as mirrors to read the person thinking them.
Though I partake, I keep my lusts and little pleasures to a VERY select and silent few, I was bored by the words on each of the pages I turned to. Turned off at the easy subject. I wanted something to satiate my mind and less so sweet words that titillate the skin. …Skin deep.
I am choosing to think there will be other occasions where I pick the book up again and read and read, allowing it to increase an existing giddiness. That I will smile and copy quotes from it… That I will not understand why I’ve written what I just did.
Because that is how things go. (This fact is not lost on me.)
The words at the top of this entry were the only ones that appealed to me. (On this day, anyway.)
Enjoy them. They are beautiful. No matter where your spirit is exploring at the moment.
B. Jellybn “Depending On The Mood” (wink)
Not Today
Soft red flashes within a briar.
Feathers ruffle, bristle, burr
yet unused to chill.
Little wings settle, folding in tight.
Aware, but still nestled.
Redbird won’t fly away…
not today…
…not today.
(08-02-10)
Clear, concise thinking, proper grammar and punctuation.
I have been absent.
Apologies.
Haven’t seen much of myself of late.
Glimpses.
Not enough to sit and escape into sentences.
Or perhaps that is where I am. ‘Lost In A Good Book’*… somewhere. Fighting the good fight.
While my clone sits here apologizing for not being mentally capable or willing to empty out a drawer of thoughts onto this blank white screen. That could be it!
I haven’t been able to, or have truly wanted to, sit and type hours away because clones can’t write.
Not, I would think, in the meandering, contemplative, oh-so-self-absorbed manner that I normally do.
Clones probably wouldn’t use near so many adjectives, and they would also, I am guessing, be very good at punctuation.
Clear, concise thinking, proper grammar and punctuation. Yes. Tell-tale signs that there is a clone taking over blog duties.
Here I am. One of us anyway… apologizing for not being around much here in the land of text and computer screens.
I miss it. But sometimes actual life takes it all out of you. Drains the joy and free-ness of mind when one sits at a keyboard typing out words for no one, but anyone.
That joy, I think may be akin to tapping the keys, like holding on with both hands the roll of string for a kite flying way up high. Your mind soaring out over the world’s imaginations.
Don’t let go!**
(sigh)…
Actual life has been beating me blue, in truth.
But I have always been stronger than I look. So I will fair in fine manner, I always seem to.
What is that quote I used to place onto everything? For years and years…
“Difficulties illuminate existence.”
~ Tom Robbins, ‘Even Cowgirls Get The Blues’
Bonanza
P.S.
You may trust this entry has been thought up and typed by the true Yours Truly, Bonanza Jellybn… spell check already caught a few careless mistakes and I even hyphened one b/c I didn’t want to change the word although spellcheck was warning me it was wrong. I also blatanly ignored a grammatical correction simply because I preferred the way it sounded when incorrect.
You are welcome.
Your’s, with sincerety…
Bonanza Jellybn
* “Lost In A Good Book’ is title to the 2nd book in the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fford.
**A little scary b/c if you let go you’ll lose yourself and not be able to come back.
You’ll know if this one day happens to me, if I let go of the end of the string, because someone will put me the crazy house.
My mind here in the real world, gone. Just the clone in charge.
Something so simple.
With fingertips resting motionless on the scattered alphabet and my eyes unfocused but locked onto my laptop’s screen… this is how I find myself sitting… often.
Just now I was able to pull myself from this blankness by turning away and around towards the shelves behind me. I collect things, symbols of my affections. It is happiness, these shelves.
“I will collect children’s books. But only ones’ with well done illustrations! I’ll keep them high on a shelf so kids can’t reach them. They will have to ask to hold or read them. There will be NO dirty fingerprints or creases, or tears!”
I was pretty much still a child myself at the time I said these things but I remember feeling adamant. I’ve never meant a book *not* be shared, read and held… But books are not toys. I have always known this. (or, certain special books anyway)
Never sure if the adults I shared my intentions with understood this, I don’t remember anyone saying much in response. But I do remember not caring whether they understood or not.
I haven’t changed…
The Scholastic Press Pass I have propped against a row of books had begun to curve instead of leaning straight and proud. I snapped out of my daze and laid it down flat so it would go back into shape.
I got to stand in the same room with J.K. Rowling. I wasn’t a local grade school student who got to meet her. But I watched her greet and look at the face of every child that passed. She can sign her name inside of a book with barely a look.
I admirably noticed she took care to look at every child’s face, and speak to the one’s eager to greet her. (There were hundreds of children of all ages there that day.)
I burned with envy. But I also felt lucky to have even been in the room.
Something so simple.
She’d read aloud from her book then answered questions… I scribbled notes on things she said as best I could. While she did this only students and teachers had been allowed in the auditorium. The Press (me) were watching from waiting rooms outside set up with video feed on large lcd monitors… but I was mesmerized and still thrilled.
…”there is no substitute for reading and writing, the more you do the more you will learn.” (in reference to having an advanced education or not one at all)
…”You must persevere.” (if you ever choose to write)
I came out of my daze as I sat just now looking at my Press Pass. I smiled and began to feel more positively towards my day. Such a good memory, and it was real thing that happened… Perhaps this is what actually pulled me from the daze. Just to remember a real experience that I love. It’s always such a savored experienced to be able to (even sort-of) meet someone you admire and respect.
She may mean little or nothing to many of you but you know of course that’s not what I care about. It isn’t my point in sharing this… what has been my point? Oh… that a memory token sitting on a shelf made me happy today just to look at it. The memory, the correlation it has to a person I admire. That admiration alone, fuel for the day.
I got to stand in the same room as J.K. Rowling.
I got to stand in the same room as J.K. Rowling.
I got to stand in the same room as J.K. Rowling.
(CLICK LINK to see a small slideshow of photos I took of the event)
‘Harry Potter’ Author Reads In New Orleans – Photos – WDSU New Orleans.
