11-18

brandil79

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November 18, 2015

i actually did write a daily yesterday. But it got eaten by the Internet elves.

Today I’m thinking about food. Let’s be honest, I’m always thinking about food. I’m one of those people who starts planning my next meal while I’m eating my current meal. I believe food nourishes not just body, but soul. That’s assuming the food is done right. Not fancy. Not pretentious. Not even nutritious. The intent has to be there. 

I’m not sure what that means exactly. But when you’re eating food made with intent, you feel it. It’s not just calories in. There’s an emotion behind it. My favorite meals all have stories; Where I got the recipe, Who taught me to make it and What I did to turn in it into my own beast. I love cooking. If you’re angry you should dice some shit. Seriously,byou get to use a knife to change something into something new; take a whole, basically destroy it, use the destroyed bits to build a new whole. Super cathartic. Cooking is like that from start to finish. It’s engineering and chemistry and art all mingled together into one. It can be peaceful or violent depending on the need. Good cooks know this and they never enter their kitchens without intent.

In the olden times, I’d have added a recipe here. But these are just bumbling am thoughts and I don’t really want to. What I do want is some breakfast. Something intentional. Something with bacon. Let’s be honest, it’s always something with bacon.

11-16

brandil79

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November 16, 2015

Home again. What a weekend. I love my derby family, but travel always exhausts me. And without my loves to keep me balanced I tend to get sick when I travel. So here I sit coughing and wishing I’d washed my hands more.

Castle Rock was beautiful. Colorado is a gorgeous state in general. The women of Castle Rock derby are pretty amazing. They hosted a great tournament. I was so nervous but I got out there and had fun and wound up playing in the championship game. So there was that. 

I don’t have big profound thoughts this morning. I’m too glad to be home. With a kitten on my lap and hot coffee in my hands. So here’s a bunch of pictures.  

    
    
    
    
   

Friday. Again.

brandil79

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November 13, 2015

I’m not sure Fridays will ever be normal again. I wake up and I hurt. She’s really gone and sometimes I can pretend she isn’t. How can a person leave such a hole in you? We lose so much that we didn’t know we had. 

It’s the kidlets 7 yr 5 month day. Not a birthday, but she was born on a Friday the 13 so it’s lucky to me. 

I have to drive by the airport to get out of town. The LifeFlight copter sits there along the road. I see it and I think about sitting at the gas station waiting for the tank to fill and the nurse in the phone telling me that Her heart had stopped again on the flight and they were diverting it to Santa Fe. I saw the helicopter go over our heads and thought “that’s it. That’s my mom dead above me”. And knowing that killed something in me. I hate hearing that damn thing take off and land. It will always mean death to me.

I haven’t talked about that with anyone. Seeing the helicopter that morning. They got her heart going again and it lasted the day. But I know when I lost her. Right there at the gas pump watching the lights blink overhead and hearing the distinctive chop-chop-chop of the blades through the air.

Fridays will always be hard.

Good morning

brandil79

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November 12, 2015

sometimes running late is a beautiful thing. You’re already behind so why rush? Should you hurry and break a mug? Or slow down, accept the tardy and steal a moment with your loves? I can promise you the latter won’t kill you.

I’ve become a vulnerable thing lately. It makes me angry sometimes, but a good friend pointed out that I need to give myself some time. I’ve had a lot of core values shaken and stirred lately. I’m not vulnerable because I’m weak or broken. I’m just growing. And that makes us feel naked sometimes. 

Another friendship has bloomed. One of the ones I broke during the year (and a half) of hell. It’s incredibly difficult to admit that I really fucked up during that time. Friends that would have happily been there for me and contributed to the overall awesomeness of my life were cut off and out for stupid, petty, not really my own reasons. Apologizing is the hardest thing I’ve learned to do lately. I’m getting a shit ton (metric shit ton if you’d like) of practice.  I highly recommend apologizing to someone today. It will change you. Nothing is more humbling than admitting you were wrong and that you hurt someone. 

Life is short. Even if you outlive the average and see triple digits, people are going to be lost along the way. You think you have time to tell them things. You don’t. Get your shit together. Right some wrongs. Ditch that chip and get over yourself. Eliminate anyone who doesn’t actively contribute to your happiness. (Please don’t literally eliminate them, it’s still frowned on in most jurisdictions). Find people who will respectfully challenge your worldviews. Eat food. Drink whisky. Skate, run, bike, hike, shoot things, read things, sing and dance like a room full of drunk strangers is watching. Find your zen. 

Good Morning. It’s a new day. Grab it by the balls and make it a good one.

11-11

brandil79

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November 11, 2015

Did I miss another day? I might have.

The door closed on me again. It was wide open and happy and all sorts of amazing things came through for a while. I sat in front of the computer last night and couldn’t produce a thing. There’s no such thing as writer’s block. There is such a thing as the closed door. My story has no direction and the characters are as tasteless as water. That’s okay. It’s good to just write.

There’s a scene waiting to happen. It’s not pivotal but it is stressing me out. People have to fight and treat each other stupidly. I don’t want them to get hurt (yes, I’m aware, fiction). What if what we write is happening for real somewhere? Did you ever wonder that? What if we are writing a scene in which the lovers lose each other and somewhere, inexplicably, the lovers part in the real world and both are torn and wondering why it happened and they’ll never know that one casual key stroke ended a thing that by all means should never have ended.

It’s ridiculous.

What if it’s true?

11-10 Our Heroine Takes a Lover

brandil79

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November 10, 2015

He came up behind her while she stood at the stove, slipped his arms around her waist. He’d touched her before; a hand on her back as she entered a room or helping her from the car. This was different. He was claiming the space between them. She turned to face him and his arms went tighter around her. An eternity passed in the time it took for his lips to cross the empty space and touch hers. That moment wasnt something for words. It went on and on, perpetually in her mind until the day she died. The undoing of her. He turned the burners off and pulled her through  the dining room into his office. She’d always loved the way it smelled of leather and whiskey but she had only been in here for work. He pulled her into a lingering kiss and his hands slid up under her shirt lifting it over her head. She shivered, not from the cold. Her knees were betraying her and she went willingly as he lowered her to the floor. She wanted to shed the rest of her clothes and his but he was being good. Going slow. He kissed her neck, her chest. Took a nipple slowly into his mouth. She arched her back and moaned and she felt his knee come to rest between her thighs. She pressed against him. Embarrassed by the heat she could feel radiating off her body. She reached for his belt but he pushed her hands away; pinned them over her head, firmly, gently. He covered her mouth with his again. His leg was firmly pressed against her and he began to rock against her. She couldn’t help but respond. The heat built until she was sure she would combust and she tried to wiggle away but he held her firmly in place. 

“I want you to come.” He whispered in her ear. She didn’t know if she had a choice.

11-6

brandil79

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November 6, 2015

A first kiss. Sunshine on fresh snow. Letters in the sand. The feel of grass between toes. Standing chest to chest. Cheek to cheek. Pressing lips on lips and inhaling each other. Perfect skipping stones. A gentle breeze. Autumn leaves crunching beneath feet. The touch of a hand. The feel of skin on skin. A first kiss. Sunshine on fresh snow. 

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