Tinks and clanks.

This quiet morning my sister and I went to the truck, got in, started toward work...

"Why does this whole fucking town smell like garbage?"
"Duuuuude, I don't even know."

Maybe it's your upper lip. *snark, snark*

And perhaps it is. It IS quite stiff. And who wants a stiff upper lip all the time?

This is me not raising my hand.

Day flow in....day flow out..... watching things go along at a seemingly comatose rate, drinking my cold coffee, I see the little slights (however-not-so-slights is what I should be calling them) and am reminded of the need to be Malia Kay and to be stronger and truer to Malia Kay before all other Malia Kays.

I am frequently convinced, and sometimes heatedly so, that I am being hoodwinked. This makes for an ardent need to figure it all out right then, right there! Can't be caught off-guard and unawares. Got to analyze the shit out of it all.


What I am saying is I am learning to relax now.

I appreciate the magnificence of the trials we all endure and how reactive we are to things and just how resilient that makes us. We spring back. It's just the way of things.


Meanwhile... (at the other end of the broad spectrum of tinks and clanks that is the mind of Malia Kay)...
"You're hectic sometimes but I like you just fine," he tells me.

"Nobody sings like you anymore..." I hear from another.

And, of course, the old... " I'D do you ".

Oh WOULD you??

I find myself terribly affected by a man's judgement (good or bad) and how much he makes me feel I am worth. This is a truer statement even now than it was years ago, no doubt stemming from my....... DUN DUN DUN....

    F-A-T-H-E-R.               
                         (that word almost looks unreal when I spell it out like that)


Now it has been confessed to me recently, quite a bit, and from different sources, I might add, that I am a sexual object. A place for sexual affections to be stored, if you will. (I must ask you to not translate that into "cum receptacle" please).

As a girl, in my young/younger days, I may have wanted this. I may not have known what "this" really was. I may not have known that to be ONLY "this" to a man or men would sting a bit.

(I have come to appreciate my own sex a lot more recentlly- and how could I not?)

And in my days as a twenty-something... I have become downright accessible. Of course, I don't mean "accessible" as in "easy", by this placement of words. I mean "accessible" as in readily available. Emotionally, I am right there. I'm down at everyone's level because somewhat of a sense of humility and a desire to be there puts me there. I am a citadel of sorts. I'm treated as a beacon and cherished as such. This is not a negative attribute, I do not think. It is just unsettling how accessible I may have become.

Question is... do I relent? Or do I carry on and be the beacon of the people?

I may choose beacon. Afterall, I do love it down here in this underworld of cheap and cheerful.

This all being said, I wrote a song today. It was in a Target parking lot waiting for my sister to get a microwave stand. I can say I am pretty pleased with the outcome and have done guitar along with it. And all of this makes me go........... =D  biiiiiiig smile, biiiiiiiiig rewarding warm feeling.

Self-elation. Goal !

I must say, as an end note, there is a man here or there or somewhere....
makes me feel not so like an object. I thank him for this.

And ending my night with a little sumpn sumpn (not sex, just words):

a creature breathing behind
the curtains
in the dark red theater
open them
open me
i set it free



Farvall.

Malia Kay