Musings of a Butterfly

Love. Blooms as a rose, or a blossom in the springtime. Fresh dew on blades of grass, like diamonds in the early morning mist. She walks, barefoot to a grassy clearing in the woods; dew drops sprinkle her blood red painted toes, daisies kiss her ankles. She stands still and listens to the chirping and whistling of early birds, filling the otherwise heavy silence through the trees. She breathes in the sweet smell of dawn; closes her eyes and dreams of ballerina steps and love hearts, wishes and tears, joy and bittersweet pain. And then she remembers. Remembers his kiss, remembers his touch, remembers their passion, remembers the way she can still smell him when she flips her hair, and her heart opens up. If he were here now, perhaps he could smell the sunlight on her skin. And there are tulips and daffodils and buttercups. And melancholy all but disappears and hides away. For a while.

One of my favourite Italian restaurants in San Francisco's North Beach is the aptly named North Beach Restaurant , located at 1512 Stockton Street in San Francisco. The ambiance is relaxing, in a Tuscan style with imported Italian tile decor and original works of art. The menu is prepared with the freshest ingredients, in authentic Tuscan style, and a wine list with over 500 bottles of wine with Grappas, Ports and Cognacs. (Yum). Lorenzo Petroni and Bruno Orsi founded the restaurant in 1970 and it is now renowned for it's authentic cuisine and celebrity clientele. Lorenzo happens to own a winery in Sonoma called Petroni Vineyards which won the Golden Award at the Golden Glass Competition in San Francisco, as well as several others. I love this place for the food, the wine and all else mentioned above, but also because of my penchant for young waiters. I know, I know, crazy right? Well, there are only male waiters here. In fact the only female who seems to be on staff is an incr...

These wretched wings frustrate me, the urge to fly is more desirable unto my soul than water for thirst. But fly I must; dance I must, bathed in silvery shadows of the moon, catching stars as they fall around me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1bFr2SWP1I And perhaps another. Dare to dream.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFTvbcNhEgc This song speaks to me. In volumes. Enjoy.

So I decide to go to Paris in April because 1) I can't stand being away from my most favourite city for a long period of time, having only been there a few months prior (you might have already gathered that; and 2) I bloody love that Billie Holiday song " April in Paris " and figure I simply must experience it, because Billie must have been inspired in Paris in April if she sang about it. As usual I have no expectations and just want to BE here. I rent an apartment from a very cute gay couple, Jean and Olivier, in my favourite neighbourhood, the 11th. Responsibilities are on hold.  I can hardly contain myself. Since I have been to Paris several times now, I have more than a few handsome men I can call upon should I wish; however, my better judgment tells me it is always better to experience new things instead of go for the ones familiar, so despite my half-hearted attempts at contacting guys I have slept with that are "friends" now, I don't try very har...

Courtsey of ohjohnny.net Like the Mad Hatter from Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, if I just danced the Futterwacken when I felt the utmost joy or pain, couldn't that just be ok? Sometimes in life, don't you ever wanna dance the Futterwacken? I do. All the time. Even now. For Alice has long been my hero. I don't know about you, but I was often in Wonderland and was Alice whilst growing up in my often scary and oppressed own life as a child. Back then it would have been brilliant to run off when there were important decisions to be made and float into a world of my own imagining. As I often did. Where friends could have been hookah-smoking caterpillars with sage advice; where a somewhat lunatic red headed, mad-eyed, light-on-his-feet dancing Mad Hatter - (now in my mind, Johnny Depp) was perhaps my best friend that just "got" me. Let us not forget Tweedledee and Tweedledum, always there disagreeing to disagree. We all know these characters, now, as we...