A is 4 Abscess

Do you believe in predestined fate or does free will have a foothold over your heart? My view is life has an infinite amount of paths, one choice can set fire to your past and create a volcanic eruption in the bowels of your soul. But the burn can't monogram my preception. I wish it could but it doesn't. The kindling is wet and the pyre untouched. Got to start with my A, B, C's, jumble and add a few addtional letters, ingredients to the recipe cooking. Keep the letter A in its place like me with a smile on my face, the letter B stays second, Be secondary and happy with the present, right. Swap the letter C for an S and make it for and Can I make do with what I have. Gimme an E for easy and another E enjoyment and repeat the serpentine S twice and what do you get, Abscess and abysmal abscess of no greater consequence than before. Destiny opens the window only to find my hand pulling the blinds. It's time to let go. I'm letting it all go.

Song...Prince: Still Would Stand All Time

My book: Skipping through Shadows, a brief snippet of chapter three.

You would not believe it but I even started saying the rosary. I was talking to Tamu one day, telling her this and that when she mentioned something about the rosary. She said the Virgin Mary introduced it to people so they could learn how to meditate on something bigger other than our own problems. She also said that saying the rosary was just as good if not better than going out dancing and having drinks. Since when do nuns even if they are postulants get to go out dancing and drinking? Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Okay here is the nutty thing as soon as I started praying the rosary I forgot about being lonely, not that I don't miss you but I just stopped being so sad. Tamu was right, I guess being a postulant who listens to Prince and the Revolution doesn’t make you all that bad?

Gold Lipped, simple and understated

The candles in my bedroom are lit and I am feeling slightly sentimental, touched. Maybe it's Julie Andrew's singing "Feed the Birds" in the background that is shifting my mood like glitter in a glass snow globe. I'm missing my grandmother, my nammie tonight. I guess the after effects of Mother's Day is catching up. I miss my nammie, I miss her laugh, I miss her clanging the silver wear at two in the morning, I miss her pile of library books on the side of the sofa, I just miss her.

Mother's Day was difficult. I wore my smile and placed my sorrow in a velvet lined pocket. Safe. I understood as the holiday approached my mother would be deeply effected and there is no use in two people being unhappy. Regardless of the color blue tinting our hearts the day turned pink with a genuine happiness. Mumsie and I went to tea to celebrate, she had pineapple, coconut tea and I peach, apricot with several egg salad and cucumber sandwiches. Tres yummy. Bringing up the word pink again, prior to be being seated, I spotted a petite tea cup in the foyer. The word sweet came to mind when I thought of the Royal Grafton, gold lipped piece of perfection. I had to buy it, purchase it, take it-I needed it. Mumsie informed me that I would not bedoing any such thing. She said to put my wallet away. I did as instructed and presto, she bought it for me. The cup is pink, my nammie's color, simple and understated like nammie herself. Mumsie said the money being used was actually nammies. The item in question would be in all senses the last gift my nammie would buy me, a tea cup and saucer. I was tickled pink.

Shortly after we visited nammie, tea cup and saucer in hand at the cemetery. My grandfather, mumsie dear and I left flowers and then headed to my grandmother Nelly's house. We had a wonderful time talking, having food and a rather delicious glass of sangria laced with brandy. I also received my birthday presents. Three framed photographs of my great grandparents: Jeese I and Cora/Victoria-Gonzalo and Maria, and my grandparents: Jesse II and Nellie. I still have the smile on my face. The photos are beautiful black and whites set in the 1920's, 1950's and present day.

Song Choice: Feed The Birds.

Present days and present situations, I am mailing my book: Skipping Through Shadows, off this week to my friend Leiliani to edit. I am beginning to read it now and think, oh dear, I should draft it again. Life is fleeting as is inspiration but flaws are forever. Off it goes, wild as the wind....Here is yet another look into it, chapter two.

The heavy wooden doors to the infirmary swung open. Long faced and giant, Sister Amelior returned with basket full dried plants, stones and miniature glass bottles filled with multi colored liquids. A smaller nun with tan skin and magnanimous hazel eyes walked beside her. Bhuka recognized the nun from somewhere but could not place her. Though in the smaller nun’s slender hands Bhuka noticed she held a golden thurible. Bhuka starred curiously at it. Especially since the thurible had a curious French phrase engraved on its carved side: le parfum de la sainteté.

“What’s le parfum de la sainteté mean? Bhuka asked, creeping under her wrinkled bone colored sheets.

The smaller nun looked elfin standing next to tall, Sister Amelior as she answered. “Miss Spook, le parfum de la sainteté roughly translates to the perfume of the holy.”

Sister Amelior scowled as she sat her cumbersome wicker basket on an aged wooden dressing table across from Bhuka’s bed. “Sister, would you stop wasting time chatting with the child and set the thurible down. We have work to do.”

Back to Life

My blog has been ignored, my podcast has stopped and romance isn't on the plateau. My book, "Skipping through Shadows" is done. But life moves on. I am starting on book two of the Bhuka Spook sagas. This one should veer off polite introductions and explore the already established realtionships into much darker regions.

As you can see I am not in the Bell Jar just busy. My friend Leilani Clark, has wonderfully joined the Bhuka Band and will begin editing in the second week of May. I am so blessed to have been kissed by both, Apollo and Calliope for granting me inspiration to write, read and be connected with so many wonderful people. Again, I cannot thank Leilani enough!

The book, "Skipping through Shadows," finished itself bascially and Leilani is one of the best people help me progress. She like Katie Mc Cleary have been with Bhuka since she first started walking through the corridors of Saint Cecilia's of the Celestial Song. Once my revise is done, I will shipping it to select friends (Katie) and family along with a questionaire about their take on my book. Once I inhale all the critiques and exhale, do a little more revising, hopefully my quest for artist representation will be over as well.

Since you have been kind enough to read this, I will give you a sneak peek into Bhuka Spook's Skipping Through Shadows first chapter...

A subtle breeze, scented with the faintest trace of thyme, wafted by; it moved lightly through the outstretched branches of the plum. The aspen trees quivered, casting an undulating wave of yellow and green leaves towards the sky. Their muted colors heightened the strange unearthliness of the purple plums. One distinct plum dislodged itself from the tree and plummeted unforgivably onto Bhuka’s head.

Violaceous fruit gore spilled down Bhuka’s heart-shaped face; her onyx curls collapsed into sticky tangles. She dropped to the ground in a thud, just like the ruptured plum, her vision bleed Bordeaux, changing her eyes from brown to burgundy. The color and texture lulled Bhuka as her vision dissolved into a flickering cinemascope. She saw a thin, pale woman with skin like white acacia petals and hair as dark and curled as a midnight maelstrom. The woman’s right ear had nine earrings, and left ear held three. She was beautiful. A thin man with gold-dust skin and almond-shaped eyes stood by the woman’s side. Dressed in torn denim jeans and a white tank top that showed off the map of colorful tattoos cascading down his slight but muscular arms. The inked tangles of flowers, moons and stars glowed mysteriously in the sunlight.

The couple seemed out of place on the busy street. The two remained blissfully ignorant as they walked holding hands amongst the gawking and pointing townspeople. Bhuka watched, unmoving from her position on the ground. These were her parents. She smiled as she watched her father wrap his golden arms, with their complex designs, around her mother and kiss her.

There you have it, a sneek into my first book, "Skipping Through Shadows" and Bhuka's first vision. It's been fun and exciting working on this. Many of you know this was my thesis project back at New College, and shocking enough I stuck with it. I doubt Bhuka would have let me shelve her story, when she wants to talk, I listen and well...she certainly is talking. So thank you everyone for reading and i promise there is more to come!