Your imagination is your preview of life's coming attractions.

Well, hell, I'm sure in trouble. We all know Einstein knew a thing or two. Here are the compositions that have been running through my mind the last few days while I've been out for snow:

Ode to My Yoga Pants
You love me when I'm skinny,
you love me when I'm plump.
You love me when I'm busy
or sitting on my rump.

Ode to My Heineken
I love the way you taste
I promise not to waste
One lovely drop of your elixir
you"re a bottle of life's fixer.

Ode to My Sheets
Thank you for your warm embrace
You hide me from the world
that I cannot bear to face.

Okay, that's all I have written on each so far. I've been composing for about 48 hours now. I loves me creature comforts, I do. Mayhaps, I'll start thinking in a more high minded direction. Bahhaaaa, who the fuck am I kidding??? We all know where my thoughts lie---way down low.
XOXO Snow Days!!!!!

F off Mr. Video Store Worker

So, I found my muse tonight in Anger. She's such a comfortable friend. Loooovvveee her!
I take La Nina to the video rental place after work to take movies back and rent her Barbie's Diamond Castle. We are checking out and he (who btw-needs to bathe, shave, get a haircut, some modern glasses, and lose 10 lbs) asks, "Have you heard about our Power Play Program." Because I know that the poor guys makes under $10 an hour and HAS to ask this question, I smile sweetly and reply, "Oh, yes, many times." What I wanted to say was, "Every fucking time I'm trying to rent a movie here. You'd think you people understand, 'no means no' by now!" BUT, I refrain. So, he smugly sniffs and pushes his 1960's unflattering frames onto his nose and says, "Well, you could've saved $27 this month already." At this point, I am PISSED. I want to say, "You talkin' to ME?" or "Did I ASK you a question?" BUT, once again, I just give him THE STARE. I reply with flipness, "Guess, I just like to waste my money. Maybe you'll get a raise, honey." Target hit. Point taken. He SHUT up. I want to start handing out a card at the beginning of these little encounters that reads:

Caution. You are talking to one CRAZY ass bitch who has spent the better part of her day biting her tongue, censoring her language, and ignoring stupid, annoying people. She cannot be trusted to not: curse you, cut your gentles off and feed them to you, bitch slap you with both hands, or make you regret eye contact. Speak as little as possible, look down at all times, and by all means do not get uppity with her!

A Muse by Any Other Name

This painting is titled Hesiod Listening to the Inspiration of the Muse
(Edmond-Francois Aman-Jean). Side note: Hesiod, an ancient Greek writer/poet, was given the poetic inspiration by the Muses while tending sheep. Go figure.

My Muse visited me today by channeling through one of my dear friends! She has been aware of my latest plight to reclaim my inner/outer Muse. She related the plot to a novel today in which the character is a writer who has lost his Muse because the ghostly/spirit that had been attached to him has left him to go on somewhere else. Perhaps my Muse was an apparition, a spirit, who is now occupying other places??? To believe this theory, first one must believe in spirits. Check.

The weird coincidence is that I had been feeling for about 3 months that a particular person who had passed was trying to use me in some way to communicate with its living relative. I know, I know, it sounds so fucking crazy (even for me!). I kept this little tidbit to myself for most of the three months because I knew people would think I had really lost my shit. I had a nagging feeling that the spirit (for lack of a better word) was hanging around because it needed or wanted me to do something in relationship to one of its living loved ones with whom I was acquainted. Finally, after I was able to voice it to one person who was closely related to the situation, I felt a little relief. I began to tell a few others.
Finally, one day something urged me to sit down and create a poem for that person. I did (see below) and passed it on through the mutual party. It was very soon after this time that I began struggling with my creative impulses. I don't know if it was my Muse and if it left, but I wouldn't count that possibility out. I don't know if a Muse is back for good or not. Time will tell on that one. I won't be purposefully inviting a new Muse to me. You never know what you will get when you do that! For now, I'm feeling hopeful.

Poem inspired by my former spirit Muse for his living loved one:

For **

He misses you angel
The sadness haunts him
Even beyond us now

Love strong and love long
He wants you to know
Even without him now

He guides you angel
The warm glow follows you
Even beside you now

Forget and be free
He wants you to know
Even without him now

He loves you angel
The wake of his soul comforts
Even beyond us now.

Epistle to My Muse

Dearest Muse,

I am lost without you. Please come back. I have spent days, hours searching for you. I have spent hours in the innocence of my child and you were not there. I have looked for reasons to be angry, which always summons you to my side, and nothing. No Muse. I have lit candles, soaked in tubs of hot water and still . . . nothing. I have spent hours in a fever and drug induced sleep and nothing . . . still. I have listened to tunes of sorrow, tunes of love, tunes of happiness, and you are no where to be found. I have faced the ugliest parts of myself and my life with eyes wide open and no, you are not there either. I have prayed with heartfelt sincerity for those I know and love, those who make my heart ache, and those in a country devastated by tragedy and still . . . nothing. I have meditated with open minded clarity in search of your touch but you elude me even still. Your absence haunts me. Return soon.

Muse Girl

Hide and Seek

Embarking on a quest to find Muse Girl's inner muse. She's AWOL. I'm going to keep a hand-written diary, like in the olden days, for a few days. I'm searching for her . . . maybe if I have a retro-fest and do it the old fashioned way, I'll find her!! I imagine soul searching could require a lot of alone time. A lot of Heineken. A few hot baths by candlelight. I've been stressed like a mother fucker and can't shake it. I complain loudly about little things, but the deep, scary shit stays shoved way down deep for a reason. However, it occurs to me that poor Muse Girl has been smothered a bit lately. So, gonna embark on a weekend of de-stressing. Will post old school diary entries in a few days!

The Post that Almost Didn't Happen

Mr. Muse Girl walks by and sees I'm on the computer. We're sharing one computer now so it sucks. He says, "You gonna blog tonight?" He's a HUGE fan. I said nonchalantly, "Nope." He asks, "Why not?" I answer, "Becuz, I don't have nothin' to write about. Nothin." He starts listing suggestions:

1. Write about how much I piss you off.
Me: There just isn't enough computer memory space nor time in a day ole boy. I could start with the laundry I asked you to do today, but I ended up doing--along with everything else, but I won't.

2. Write about how we both got our parking places.
Me: You'd think we live in NYC. It's a stupid parking war we each have with different sets of apt. neighbors. LAME. BUT, FYI-we are winning!!!!

He quit suggesting at this point because I showed a general lack of appreciation for his creative input.

The muse must be on a fabulous vacay because Muse Girl really and truly has no inspiration or desire to blog tonight!!! Muse Girl is going to take a bubble bath and drink an adult beverage or too. Who knows, maybe the muse will find me after a few of those??? I'll title it: The Drunken Post or The Post of the Inebriate or A Post to Dionysus.

Weird Confession

Okay, I admit that while blogging, I have a mouth like a sailor. You might be surprised to find that I pray faithfully twice a day. Once in the a.m. and once in the p.m. The strangest thing happened last night while I was saying my night time prayers! First a disclaimer: it was after midnight, I was being inched out of my bedspace by la nina, Mr. Muse Girl was snoring up a storm and I had taken some Benadryl to help me sleep. Anyway--so, I'm saying my prayers outloud in my head and suddenly I slip into a British accent for like four words. I stop and giggle a little. I ask for forgiveness and continue. I slip BACK into the British accent AGAIN. Now, I cannot affect a British accent while fully awake and aloud at ALL. I suck it up pretty badly when I try. However, I tell you that I was flawless. I cut my prayers short with a quick AMEN and continued by listing in my head the things that I would accomplish today, but with a British accent. Not a Jane Seymour, Julie Andrews accent but a Jane Leeves from Frasier type thing. Very blue collar, very cockney. I couldn't stop!!! Finally, I exhausted this folly and fell into a sleep. I cannot even begin to re-create this inner dialogue for you and feel silly even trying BUT I'm gonna! I'll just list a few of the items on my agenda for today. You must picture a Bridget Jones, Daphne Crane etc. type accent for this:

1. Right, so I'll pop to the exercise room for a bit of walking.

2. Next, I'll grab a bite to eat then.

3. Going to take the little one to the shops. Hope he doesn't bugger it up.

4. If there's time, I'll color me hair before returning from holiday.

5. Oh, a bit of wash is in order as well. Not a spot of clean laundry to be had!

Oh, Bugger me!!! This was Fun!!!!