Sunday, November 14, 2010
I’m two days late for deadline, hoping that Randy has once again given us a little pillow of time pushing….knowing his devoted but procrastinating and writers block stricken staff as he does, and as I sit here in my jammies, still unwashed, smoking too much, sipping on a glass of “inspiration”….my standard punishment for my tardiness, this “You can’t go anywhere or do anything until you finish” thing, and my mind is wandering. The lust and want I wish to inspire with descriptions of Champagne, Meursault and Northern Rhone Syrah getting lost amidst my own desires, my wants…my lust. All of it mixing with guilt and threatening to overtake me…
So I came here. A new Word document, a blank page, to purge. Rid myself of these consuming distractions that are pulling me in too many directions, tugging at me…making my stomach flutter, my heart pound and are suffocating my focus. No matter how many times I rub my makeup-less face, no matter how severe the tone in my, “Knock it off and focus!” growl, no matter how many times I beg, coo and plead these images, memories, flavors, fantasies and cravings refuse to leave me and let me work.
So I came here. Here to fill this page, fill my loyal readers and ask that you read them, hold them for me, feel them for me…keep them warm and wanted until I can once again let them roam freely throughout my mind and my body…let them once again raise my skin, own my will, move me. Hold them tight, picture them vividly, groan at the very thought, assure them that they are craveable, desirable and wanted so badly….
No one needs to take them all, you can spilt them up, take turns caring for them, trade them when you need but I beg of you….promise them that I shall return for them. Assure them that they are mine, that I need them and that without my overwhelming desire to attain them that I could never be this woman that I am. Whisper my name as you hold them, devour them as needed but do not let them forget where their home is and that I will soon be back to collect them.
I trust you all….
I’m dreaming of
The smell of a fire while snuggled beneath a blanket
Warm water climbing up my back and spilling down over my shoulders
Resting on my tummy while fingertips trace my tattoo
The crunch, the give and tug of a perfectly fried scallion cake
That almost painful stab in the side of my neck with my first sip of Sancerre
My teeth piercing tender dumpling flesh and feeling the insides spill onto my palate
Lips brushing against that soft patch of skin behind my knees
A smear of thick, pungent Epoisses on hot from the oven bread
Frozen shards of Gin melting between my lips as I suck them from my martini glass
Desperate stolen kisses
The weight and aggression of Grand Cru Burgundy in my mouth
The kind of voice that arches my back and makes the skin on my body tight
Words, no matter how few, that take my breath away….
These are the things that are spinning around inside me. The wants that need a place to land until I am once again ready to let them swim around beneath my flesh, hold them for me…love and want them for me. I need them so badly but right now…I need to work.