Moved to new domain - www.gilded-soapbox.com

Hi all ... I've got my own domain now.

You'll find my blog now at - www.gilded-soapbox.com

I have no plans to suddenly stop babbling.... So hop over to the new address and keep reading!

www.gilded-soapbox.com

Lxx

It happens. Somewhat.

Shit happens. Good things happen. Wine happens. Hell, I happened. Or I’m happening, right now, in this place. You feel me too… I’m fading, and sometime I feel nearly used up, but I’m here. Happening.

 

Wow, two blogs in one day. Someone should run and alert the media. I said that I would try to blog more, but this reeks of self love a little. And why not. If you can’t love yourself, who can, eh?

I’m in one of those positions where I have no one to turn to but myself. Stress of the week is finally catching me. I’ve had compliments about how well ‘I’m holding’ and ‘Oh Lynn, you are looking solid through this’. I’m not as solid as I look, and now I am franticly clutching the bottle by the neck with a white knuckled strangle hold.

He’s trying to live now.. in stead of dying. It’s touch and go, but it’s there. Now I can fold a little… I can breathe. Who do I talk to? Or fuck it, do I just fold alone with that bottle of red that is more dependable than any thing at this moment?

I fucking strongly dislike Septembers. Next year I’m take a holiday to a place far far away… Warm breezes, good food, drinks with stupid umbrellas in. I’ll change my name, wear sunglasses and look mysterious. I gotta out dance it, before it catches me.

I’ve discovered that yard work and house work don’t cut it. They look nice, but the train is still running through my head. If I just knew where to turn, I would do it.

Or maybe it’s just the bottle and the tunes. Fuck knows I’m probably shit company right now anyway.

Too self absorbed to love beyond the obvious candidates…from the soap-box

Lx

Castles made of sand…

Or wishes, or fears, or just good old garden variety stress. Fear makes a pretty good foundation for a sturdy castle, and stress can keep the walls thick and strong. Wishes are the things that can only decorate a single room…There’s rarely any space to make a castle of what it needs to be made of. Sand. Truth. Life.

Life is so fluid, so fragile, so ever changing. It’s so easy to knock down, and if one can be smart enough to outrun fear, it can be picked up and recreated.  A new castle can be made up the beach, further from the tide. You can change the look, add a few shells… Or you can ride close to the water, raise your face to the sun and know your castle is not safe, and that nothing is. But gosh, isn’t it beautiful the way you can see the clouds go by in the reflection of those puddles of water.

Castles made of fear have no windows… only halls long enough for pacing back and forth. Castles made of stress have no doors… no way out. Wishes are the carefully hidden safe rooms. If  you can find it, perhaps you can remember for a moment that life is actually made of sand.

I’ve spent the last little while making my castles out of everything I could find… Bits of junk laying around, cobbled together by stress, occasionally finding room to create a wing supported by fear.

Now, I’m not sure where I’ll build my new castle. Just now I’m sitting in the tide, staring at the coast. The water is lapping over legs, and I’m having a cup of coffee as I consider the vista. The sand here is very nice and feels good under the fingers. I’m not in any great hurry. There’s a bit of freedom this. Close to the edge, or further up the beach…

I’m breathing now. Finally.

And if you don’t mind, I’ll just stay here a while.

 

Loving love, and the feeling of love and being loved, and the strength found in love…. As always, from the soap-box

Lx

Things I didn’t want to know

But I found out anyway… Or rather perhaps I found out because I wanted to, and I never knew I didn’t want to know until I looked.

I’ve just reread that sentence a few times, and I was sorely tempted to hit the delete button. The urge was strong… But I’ve decided to let it stand, and carry on. As one does… as one does.

I’m living in a world of restless nights, and restless thoughts. Priorities shift at a moments notice, and my own tolerance level sinks rather alarmingly at times. I’m having to rely heavily on my Southern Upbringing to see me through this… and to give me the ability to fake it with a smile when I would rather issue a nicely timed slap.

I’m stronger than I thought I was.. So that was rather a relief to find out. Shocking really, but there it is and there you have it. Just now I am reading strength in the bouts of numbness and sheer feral defending that must be done. Part of me rings the alert bell at the numbness… But I reckon I’ll deal with that fall out when I have the time.

Right now, I don’t have the time. Peter might be dying…Surely he’s struggling to live. I’ve only got it in me at the moment to deal in that direction. If a hand reaches out to keep me from toppling over while this happens, I’ll kiss it with gratitude, and add it to the list of things I must remember later. So many things to remember later… Lists are the glue that keeps me together.

I hate Septembers.

Loving things with names who escape me ..,and as always from the soap-box (off-piste tho it may be)

Lxx

Life experience teaches one..

That one should never blog after one has imbibed (what a fucking stonking word) three bottles of wine with a friend...(oh ok. Yes, he's a lover, but for matters of interest here, we shall stop with the ever obvious 'mate').

Let's begin with the Stereophonics and work our way outwards to the seven deadly sins... Or rather the 'Seven deadly Zins'. As you do, as you do.

I could also be absolutely honest here, and admit that I will most likely forget my path as I begun, and just end with a ramble that has nothing to do with the beginning...

Now, what I would like to cover today is that last bottle of wine. You know the one. The one just after 'I think I'm drunk enough, but fuck it, let's have one more'. Yes, you might have guessed it...I'm there just now. I'll probably regret this blog in the morning... at least that's what I'll tell my mum (sod you, I live in the UK).

I'm grooving, and I'm singing.. I'm happy, and I'm laughing. I'm struggling with a bit of 'Southern Baptist Guilt' as I cover it, but I think I'm coping well. What I want to know is.. when does one shut up? I mean, seriously... I have a world of questions, ready to be pelted.. .right on the tip of my tongue. The fact I can write this post with the words all spelled right means that I might be in a dangerous place.... "Do you love me? Do I love you? Do you agree that bacon sandwiches are something next to religion when it comes to magnificence? And really... if he loves me, if I love him.. it's really the bacon that speaks the loudest here. Gawd, they are lovely. Or rather, it's lovely... oh sod it.

I shall end this rather pointless rant that, I'm sure, you'll find was filled wisdom... with "There's more life in a tramps vest" or some such. But then you would think "She's sloshed and listening to the 'Sterophonics' again....

And you would be right.

Fair enough. Gonna go see if I can make some mischief now, or at least (the very least) finish off that last bottle of wine.

Love you all (not really. I'm sloshed. I love most of you.. but that's a lie too. I think I love some of you.. but mostly when sober. Sod that. I love like four of you. Yeah, that's it.. like four.)

From the soap box..

C'est moi (tis I!!!)

Winding Roads

I'm fully aware that I have not blogged for a while. I've probably lost the one fan I had... ( just kidding. I'm sure I had like 5 fans... I rock!)

The thing is... One needs to feel it. Well, it wasn't lack of feeling. It was more the "I'm in a new relationship and you may all sod off". But it does sound much better when I go high brow and loftily declare "one must feel the words".

Erm. No. One must feel the perfect cigar that's been lined up with excellent midnight convos and a bit of Navan... Oh dear, I digressed. Anywho, the words come when they come, and sometimes they are best unshared. Judgement call? Fearing 'Sods law'?

Just at the moment I am doing the "in Napa Valley Being a Tourist, and crowbaring in Romance" thing... Bloody brilliant good fun, but it's the winding roads and simple moments that find and hold me. It's sitting in the floor of the St. Helena library, reading Philip Sidney... It's sitting on a random wall in San Francisco, smoking a fine cigar, and meeting the locals. It's sneaking down a corridor in a winery... For no other reason than the fact the door was unlocked. It's sitting on a porch in Sacramento, badly pouring vinho verde, while discussing the world...

Being a tourist is fun... Experiencing life is better. Doing this with someone who gets you? Bloody priceless. ( no, MasterCard did not pay me to say that)

Try it, y'all. Slow down and do something...different.

Lovin' y'all ( some of y'all anyway) from the soapbox,
L xx


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I have joined the revolution…

At least I think I have. Or maybe it’s not a revolution. Perhaps it’s just ‘twitter’. I mean, I thought I was awesomely progressive when I launched my self in to ‘Facebook’, willy nilly… But could it be that I was just priming my self up for something as uber hip as ‘twitter’?

How is it that I find the most mundane utterances of my friends and family to be interesting? “Am having soup" “It’s the dogs birthday” “I slept badly” “Cold beer is lovely”. And, the funnier part, is I do it too. Here’s my last update : “Sunshine again! Oh how the gods *do* spoil us mere mortals... Just found a pastrami source in Salisbury. Good times!”…

And yes, I expect someone found it interesting. I mean, folks commented on it, so we shall bill that as a win.

Now? I have joined twitter. I shit you not, I have already ‘tweeted’ twice… read my latest “Wonders who snores the loudest.... Alan or the dog”. Now, I expect someone found that worthy… and the amazing fact is, it was fun to do.

So yes, I’m out there. I tweet.

I also drink cold beer, say badwords, drive too fast, and sing along.

I’m sure if we all work together we can cope!

Lovin' y’all from the soapbox,

Lxx

Seth Lakeman live in Sheffield

This was an awesome gig... the man is a god among mere mortals with that fiddle. This is a bit of him playin' 'The Riflemen of War'. Bloody brilliant!

For the love of Angry Farmer…

Yes, I did not say ‘The Angry Farmer’… Simply ‘Angry Farmer’ for that is his name. Let it be said with quiet awe… Angry Farmer is real.

His irritation was complete, his ability to box up his anger in to strictly controlled subject matter… His ready smile as he dangled the prize of ‘who wants to feed my lamb’ right on the heels of his rage of ‘I can’t believe you landed your hot air balloon in my godamn airfield…’ was an intense showing. I swear I had to look twice because I felt that we had bonded, that perhaps we had already loved and divorced in this life. It was beautiful. Even as they served champagne later and I studied the ranting farmer… my very own Angry Farmer, through the haze of a booze induced stupor… It occurred to me that I was even watching a passive aggressive artist at work.

It was love, I tell you… sweet love. My eyes followed him hungry as he paced and ranted, and then I looked on adoringly as he appeared cool and collected…

“Let’s feed the lambs” Angry Farmer said.

“Yes, let’s” I replied… following him blindly even as my tortured heart screamed “I will follow you anywhere, Angry Farmer.”

It was real, our love. For a moment we passed through each others lives… My own Angry Farmer.

I swear, I nearly called him Baby….

‘Huzzah!’ I say for the human condition…

Love,

Lynn – lovin’ Angry Farmer from her soap-box

A midnight rescue we were called upon…

People make me laugh. I mean, they actually bring forth the *very* unladylike ‘guffaw’. As I often enjoy being unladylike, this is a happy state of affairs for me. I must ask though, loyal reader(s)… Don’t tell my Mimi. She’s under the misguided impression that I have tea with the Queen most days. I don’t.

Only on Tuesdays and Fridays.

I digress.

I’ve always been a people watcher. This is something of a sport for me… and surely there comes the point when you’ve talked about enough of them you get afraid to join the crowd. The ‘watcher’ becoming the ‘watchee’ takes a bit of guts, but when your own sense of humour is intact, that can be fun too.

There was a time I would do this in the local cafe (still do, fyi… That’s right, Salisbury, I am soooo looking at those white shoes you wore after Labor Day… For shame!!!). Now, thanks to the ‘tintaweb’ I can do it at will… sort of goddess-like with the press of of an ‘on button’. It’s like having a brilliant super-power. There’s none so entertaining as a virtual world full of entertaining people. Some are straight arse-hats… some are so fake that the effort is hilarious. Other’s are so down right basic about who they are that the reality of it all is interesting…. The lies, the drama, the laughter and the tears. They all serve well for the great stage of the human condition. It’s like we are all in a study for the gods while we trip along in this virtual world. And I say ‘huzzah!’… let it never change!

Years ago, at 2am, when you (and by ‘you’, read ‘me’ or take it a step further and correct the English and read ‘I’) could not sleep, there was nothing for it. Bit of TV, staring at the walls… But now! Oh sweet baby james. I can log in to a world of … well… anything.

Yes, just knowing that one can is enough to make you want to wear your knicks on the outside and name yourself 'Uber Woman’ or ‘Wonder Chic’ and run around outside making airplane noises… Oh wait. That’s probably only me. Ach well.

Every once in a while a tiny voice breaks through, and stands out. Another people watcher, just like you…Perhaps we should think of ourselves as a subculture of super hero’s. No wait, let’s be really exciting and think right outside of the virtual box.

Oh shit, we are human.

Imagine that?

Lovin’ y’all… (well most of y’all… Not even that, really. But for *sure* some of y’all)

Lx – starin’ at the gods from the soap-box

My Goodness… can you believe it?

Well it’s been ages since I’ve written a thing here! Since Jan, if the dates can be believed… and I am sure they can be, as I think my pc drinks far less than I do. Call me simple, but that’s just an assumption.

Now, we can take all this silence to believe one of two things… either a whole bunch of bad has gone down, or a mighty pile of good has gone on. Or maybe we can add a third option and head for a healthy mix of both? Hmm… A mix. Mostly good, I think, but iwtih a few fun stressy bits just to keep it real.

First off, I was in Louisiana visiting the fam for most of Jan. That was awesome good fun and everyone was brilliant. It was fantastic to be home for sure. I was nearly too spoiled on good weather to make it back to the UK with any kind of grace…

Then there was the month of Feb. Oh lawds… well, to begin with I bought in to a hefty line of bullshit. Yes’m, at my age too. It would appear that you are never told old to believe a good line of bs. I mean sure, it rocked the boat for a little while, but in the end, it’s always best to discover what smells. He did. Now, he’s gone. Simple, darlin’s!

Once I wiped that mess off my hands, I got another fun project off the ground. Now, I’m a firm believer in not tipping a hand, so I will keep these cards close to my chest until the project gets exciting. But oh, my, I am bustin’ to share. I’ll be sharing soon…I am just pathetic at keeping good gossip to myself!

Now, today’s lesson, kids… Always be prepared to discover bullshit. Remember, when you do, to keep your makeup in place and your shoes on. You need to face it down, and look good while doing it. It’s important… because even if your pride takes a hit, you can look fabulous and play it off like it doesn’t sting. Fake it until it’s real… and when it’s real (and it will be shortly, I can promise you) make sure you laugh. Make it a sultry laugh… those are the best kind.

Remember to kiss and tell… or at least lie about it over a cold beer while you make fun of him among friends….

Love,

Lynn – feelin’ groovy from the soap-box.

All my bags are packed…

f

And I’m ready to go! Yass’m… I’m on my way in a few short days. I’ll be in the land of cold beer and seafood. I’ll be having far too many fried foods, and loving it as my arteries harden… (yeah, yeah, I know – sick humour, but fuckyas, it’s my blog. If it helps, I’m listening to Josh Groban to class it up a bit.)

I’ll be leaving the land of ‘God Save the Queen’ and heading for the land of ‘Laissez les bon temps roulez’. Hmm… another corny comparison for ya – Leaving ice for sodding sunshine. That’s right, you read what you thought you read. I said ‘sodding’. That’s how we roll in Wilts….

It’s been a hell of a year, 2009, and I am for one, happy to bring in 2010 surrounded by my friends and family. This year has to be better than the last one. I’ve picked up all my pieces, and most of me can be found if you look hard enough, so it’s time folks!

You have my permission to miss me terribly and thnk of me often… Oh, and get jealous as hell all you British mates. It rocks in Louisiana this time of year. It’s cold as dammit in the UK. Kiss my ass, I’ll bring you a ‘fridge magnet.

Grinnin’ from the soap-box

Lxx