love laurie

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Fact: You are an idiot if you walk across the street looking at your cell phone.

No more mis(ter) nice Guy….. not playing nice anymore

I’m calling you out on all the bullshit that makes my blood boil.

son of a preacher

On yet another unassuming afternoon in the farmers market I met up with my friend. Our conversation revolved around heartaches and heartbreaks. His latest lady friend seemed up to up and disappear only to reappear rolling around with another male, explanation absent.

The fragment of the story is familiar to many. Recently I had experienced a similar thing and I am still scratching my head at what happened?

We met each other other unexpectedly late in the summer and of course, I was not interested at all but something about the way he smelled and the way he smiled all star-eyed at me got me all curious. He brushed my leg as I cocked my head thinking who is this guy and what does he want? Later that night we were flying down Fraser in the middle of the night. The pavement was warm and steady providing a calm backdrop to the sparkles of the street lit sky. We rode hard and fast and when he turned back he underestimated my speed, as I was right behind him. I screamed his name as I hurtled into the air, over my bike and over his. Spread on the pavement, my adrenaline peaked and it was downhill from there.

Causally our little affair got exciting. I liked the way his collar smelled and his small affections. Text messages gave me butterflies and excited to be in his arms. We would lay in a dark room with a low-lit lamp circling the corner, exchanging worldviews and ideologies of people and places. Low music filled the spaces in between his fingers as he played with the lengths of my long blonde hair; my fingers smoothed the creases of his wrinkled forehead. We talked as if time stopped still. I didn’t want it to end. The peacefulness of his prose made me feel good about the world, those candied phrases come so easy from the son of a preacher.

However our affair took an unforeseen turn. I remember one week the ease and affection grew cold and hard. Texts ceased their command; the butterflies in my stomach sat idle and asked, “what gives?” One day I approached it and asked point blank if something had changed. Did he meet someone new?  He responded, “No I still feel the same as when I met you”. Later that night I saw him out and I knew like silk ribbon falling through my finger tips, he was gone and I would never see him again.

No matter how I try to put him out of my mind I think about him. I hear the clicks and creaks in the cranks from the crash.

Pole pole

Africa in her ways is getting me. She is softly chipping away the layers of self that I have built up over the years. Like an old wise sculptress working on a blunt piece of wood, she moves slowly. Methodically caressing and touching the wood with her fine elongated fingertips. She must feel the wood in order to work with it. Sense it, find the weakest points and make them the beautiful features. Breaking apart the old growth bark, hard with the past, weathered, wildly overgrown, breathing. Yet these conditions hold nothing to the blade that she holds in her hands. As she caresses the wood, she has seen it before and nothing surprises her as for centuries people have been trying to change her, but it is Africa that holds the blade and the proof is in those touched by it.

The King of The Jungle

“Lions are more intelligent than some men and more courageous than most. A lion will fight for what he has and for what he needs; he is comtemptous of cowards and wary of this equals. But he is not afraid. You can always trust a lion to be exactly what he is – and never anything else.” B. Markham

Sometimes in life you have to get off the beaten track a little. Dating is like a hike. Unfamiliar terrain, roots that appear out of no where, branch backlash. On the other hand ascending over the hill to a sight so stimulating it can take your breath away.

Allow yourself to fall in love everyday.