dec 3

i got an email from gillie today. gillie in the t.dot. in reply to the
sweet sauce little sister.
it a wonder to hear your words again; the tumultion of your thoughts, all pressed two dimentional, all that time squished so tight into this little screen, and i can taste you again. the smell of your finger tips. sounds like i am in love with you, and indeed i still am. toronto heh, you in t.dot.
at this moment i am back flat, 1 pm friday afternoon, kilis mattresses are on the floor by the door and i am flat on my back with a computer on my piillowed lap. it is raining out. kili, who i call mu, is working at the coop. the friday afternoon shift. he is as bouyant and dramatic as ever with everyone. we woke up this morning holding hands with our foreheads pressed together. who woke up first? did we wake at the same time?
we are getting married on the equinox. this is what we tell people, have told people, and confirm with each other every few days or so. for the last three weeks, we still agree. black haired green eyed tatooed man. in him i see every other lover i have had, in a moment, some random gesture. mu!
so i have put my back out.
sneezed tues morn,
suffered through the day.
cried for the next 36 hours, unable to put on my own socks.
humility. shame. money, stress. expectations, change, failure, dealing.

the book Chocolat; sweet goddess thank you;
reading, my first true love.
and it rains.

the barn box tea shoppe has been a wonderous success so far, and many people have ideaed contingency plans for me. everything i dreamed; me dispensing medicines, listening to the herbs and the people talking, facilitating conversations, and soon the conversations have no need of me, but to pour another cup and pass it accoss the counter.
the last weekend will be fresh croissants (!), ali making Indian chai and an Indian feast sat night to give thanks, tables to sell things from, a craft corner. everyone invited.
the gourge hall dance on sat was amazing. mu and i e'd. danced. i was glossy, he was wildeyed and blackhaired bouncing; felt the corners of eyes watching us, as he told of our engagement, who is that redhead tea girl? and the place was littered with his ex-girlfriends. in the omipotence of the dancing, we danced, teasing each other across the floor, tied and untied, with the invisible blinding white light of love dripping off, flowing between us. we awoke at channel rock, and all day the wind did not blow. not even a little. blue heron overhead. sauna. ocean swimm, phospheresence. the wolves howling. sauna.
today it is rainy. as of dec 15 life will change again.
thank you for the briefs tastes of your fingers again,
i know we are not far.
with all my passionate love for and faith in
you
jahmu


us arted by professer mu

i do know this note dances personal indeed; beds drugs and levity that could be taken as arrogance, surely. And on to the internet, where friends of mine, friends of mu's, the sweet legions of ex's we still tender for, all here have access.
But the transparency of these words on a black background is too delicious to deny.

a piece of paper with my name on it,
a puddle that reflects the sun...

I am on the floor, listening to sweet voice of Graceroad, my good friend Ami,
and the rain on the roof, letting my back chill out a bit before i begin to layer teas sweet into glass jars, apply art and pray that with all energy, as with money, the flows are open and i am an open flow.

love
jayme maggie melrose ( ... )