A Little Older


I’m tipsy with vodka and I’m close to falling asleep. The rain is beating strong against my window and I look at the clock. It’s 10:53 in the evening. In a few hours it’ll be your birthday.

It has been more than a year of not seeing you. Although we write frequently to each other and you’ve called me on the phone a handful of times, nothing beats actual encounter. When two people can have coffee together and see each other’s smiles or feel each other’s hand shake. Nothing defeats that, not by a mile. Distance with the people I would like to be closer have been the constant theme of my life. You joined them last year.

It is true what that old poem said, friends are family we pick along the way. And like most of my family, you are far too. I can’t wait for August. I hope all goes well and your plan to visit does continue. I am looking forward, with great anticipation, to going shopping and hanging out in Starbuck’s with you. I also hope we can catch a movie. These are the simple things I hope I can enjoy again. God knows I’ve gone soft and I try to enjoy the simplest things in life.

Happy birthday … may all your dreams come true and may all your worries go away.

With a heavy head and hoping I sleep well,



I hope you get drunk today and oh, I read this amazing book that I want you to read too (while we wait for The Sorceress). Come visit this same page on Thursday and you’ll know what book.


Brimstone and Sulfur

Rain just came crashing down after a long hot sticky day. It poured like there’s no tomorrow and stopped as soon as it began … premature – rain god must be a guy.

Been up all night writing so it means I’ll be asleep when everyone is up. I thrive in the night, I’ve been doing so since college. But the extreme heat we’re having lately have been inducing my head to shots of pain. If I’m awake at night my day will be torture lying in bed tossing and turning trying to sleep. The sheets sticks to you and you will later realize that it has wrapped you in a stifling bunch.

A friend once asked me if I knew how hot it was in hell, I gave her a quizzical look and replied that I had no idea since I’ve never been there and I have no plans of visiting. She laughed, I didn’t. Although I’ve read that it was as hot as boiling brimstone and sulphur, so if anyone knows of its boiling point then perhaps that can help my friend with her query.

It sure feels like hell outside at noon. It’s unbearable to just walk without an umbrella since you can’t see much due to the overwhelming brightness of the surroundings. Dark glasses (or shades to some) not only is fashionable but a must have trudging about. I on the other hand, have it two folds … Dark glasses and umbrella. I can’t stand the smell of sunscreen – and I only slap it on if I’m a few feet away from a body of water – and it becomes icky when left out whilst you sweat so I take advantage of other things I can use to repel the glaring heat.

This commentary is senseless; it presents neither a thesis or analysis, just a blunt observation of the obvious.

Gawd, is this what happens when you’re having heat stroke? Thank Heaven’s for the rain.