my gigi in her garden...
ok, ok - i'll write something...
Sometimes I hate the laws of karma that bind me to this reality so much. I hate living in a place that suffers this heat in the summertime so badly too and would gladly pay in slave labor to be able to live in Santa Cruz, or some other affable place near a pleasant seashore that would soothe my body... and my soul. I don't know why I'm not allowed to live in Santa Cruz. When Billy and I became able to live there from 1995 to 1998 it was like we had won a huge lottery, like I had worked my way out of an enormous prison sentence and I was given a liberty to experience freedom from the previous 35 years of junk-karma I had created for myself. Was it the benefits of hard work? Or luck? Or karmic justice? Now I cannot even afford the price of a tank of gas for a day trip to Santa Cruz and my body aches so much from the mental woes and worries my mental disease inflicts me with, I'm afraid that if I got into the 50 degree waters for 30 minutes of body surfing that my musc...
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reminds me of my own sainted gram, who had a similar swing in a bower of hyancinth.