Is the blog the modern day diary?

 “If a man has no constant lover who shares his soul as well as his body, he must have a diary—a poor substitute, but better than nothing. That is all there is to it in my case” James Lees-Milne

I read this quote recently in a book review and thought to myself,

 I have to read this guy’s diaries.

 I love diaries and memoirs as well as, books of letters.

Their are full of unvarnished truth, contrary to autobiographies,

which tend to put the writer in the best light possible.

It got me thinking,

 Is the blog the modern diary?

I have kept a journal over the years and have written the occasional love letter and poem.

But, I find the blog somehow, even more liberating.

I never really know who reads it and honestly,

 I like the mystery and true confession part of it.

Of course,

I know some of the people who read it and comment

and  I like that as well.

Who knows just thinking out loud.

later, girls

BB

Of longing for cool weather, hockey and vacation

The heat is making me crazy.

Aside from a few days of cool and clement weather,

 it has been sticky and humid since June,

and if it hasn’t, it sure feels that way!

Not only is it hot but, it’s so bloody noisy.

I live in the city, inner city,

 where people have postage stamp size yards and yet,

 they seem to spend every morning from April to October mowing them.

What’s up with that?

Way back when we didn’t have air conditioning,

 my ex and I would rent movies that took place in winter,

Russian front type of stuff.

This year I thought maybe if I read about hockey it might cool me down,

 so far,

not working.

I’m reading a biography of Patrick Roy,

 who in my humble opinion is the greatest goaltender ever to play the game.

Of course, you could argue for the great Tretiak or Ken Dryden

 but, I’m sticking with Roy, a never say die,  kinda of competitor.

I’m sorry,

 I’m pretty sure most of you couldn’t care less about hockey.

I can’t help talking about it once in a while, it’s in my DNA.

Many people in Montreal refer to our love of hockey and allegiance to our team ,

the Canadiens,

 as a religion.

Since I don’t believe in organised religion, or rather,

 I believe that religion is responsible for so much evil in the world,

I prefer to think of hockey as being part of my genetic makeup.

I’m reading The Narrow Corner, should finish it by the weekend.

I like it very much.

I’ve been thinking of taking a few days off,

 in late September maybe go to Toronto.

I’ m embarrassed to say I have never been to Toronto.

I’d really like to go to New York but, I don’t have a passeport and you need one now.

Toronto has that newish art museum,

designed by Frank Gehry,

that I would really like to see and of course, bookstores.

I’m going to try to convince a friend to go with me,

 and if I can’t,

 I’ll go solo.

Later girls

BB

When is a writer a writer?

Good morning, girls.

I’m really happy about the cool, dry, weather,

 I slept very well.

I went out  last night to have a few pitchers of beer with a friend of mine.

I really enjoy our exchanges and conversations.

 Sometimes they can be quite intense,

 sometimes on the borderline of rocky,

 other times over the edge.

We battle back from those,

because,

 I believe,

 there is genuine respect and affection.

I’m really trying to be smoother in my dealings with friends,

I acknowledge that I’m sometimes hard to take.

Mea culpa.

So, we talked about many things.

A lot, about my dismal love life,

 and my bruised and battered ego.

But, what I wanted to talk to you guys about,

 was the notion of a writer.

Here’s what I mean.

To me, a writer has always been, someone who writes,

with the intention near or far,

 of  being published,

or at least in this brave new world,

read.

My friend doesn’t see it that way,

I don’t want to misinterpret what she said,

and I hope she will let me know if I do,

but basically, she said that many of us are writers,

when we really care about words and books,

 we are,

 on a certain level writers.

Please forgive my simplification, I was inebriated at the time.

The idea struck me as highly original,

my friend is highly original,

I’ve been thinking about it  since,

I’m not sure whether I agree or disagree but,

 I think it’s food for thought.

Are those of us who blog about this and that writers?

If you keep a journal are you a writer?

Do fumblings, mumblings and ramblings about books, the weather and the state of your angst riddled life qualify?

I don’t know.

What do you guys think?

Another thing she mentioned,

apparently 40% of all people who read 50 books or more a year,

 are writers.

Since, neither of us are the New York Times don’t expect a source,

remember,

 I mentioned about,

 the beer.

I’m going chew on this some more.

Have a wonderful day

I want to thank all of you for reading and comenting on this blog,

it means a lot to me.

Apparently I am both a  heart on my sleeve and guarded kinda of a girl,

 which I believe to be an acurate and astute description.

So to my friends, I say thanks for putting up with me,

 it can’t always be easy.

BB

Full moon ramblings on beer, the bionic woman and rejection

The humidity is back.

Ugh!

I can’t sleep I’m so tense and honestly, I”m exhausted.

The pipe problem is fixed.  Hallelujah.

A minimum of damage,

 it’s a little bit smelly but, everybody says they can’t smell it.

I am known for my bionic nose,

remember Jamie Summers, the bionic woman,

 very hot, especially when she moved her hair to engage the bionic hearing.

Sorry, sex on the brain, this too shall pass.

Quiet week not much going on, except on thursday going out,

 for I hope, multiple brewskies with a friend.

It’s called drowning you sorrows. Good company, sparkling conversation and beer.

Can’t finish anything,

 I got a woman on the brain.

 Rejection sucks, but, hey,

 I still got my health,

 and friends.

Sorry girls, full moon talking.

 I think I’ll take a break.

Later girls

BB

Of lakes and pools and beautiful women

I had a great day.

 All my customers, without exception, were in a great mood and complimentary.

The AC after a cleaning, seems OK– fingers firmly crossed that it lasts through the summer.

My landlord, a nice guy but, usually the clueless type,

 said I looked rested and that my new glasses made me look

five years younger.

Let me say it again,

 I had a good day,

 must be a new moon or something.  🙂

Lately, I have been reading books that all seem to have been written for the mood I’m in,

 or in that in some way, reflect my vision of life,

 it’s  eery.

Julie and Julia as mentioned was recommended by my ex,

 and you know it really made me feel better about my job and stuff.

Last night I started a book that I already feel is amazing and I’m only 75 pages in,

Aquamarine by Carol Anshaw. This  book  is good, better than good.

It’s about how life can take you in different directions  depending on your choices.

The main character, Jesse, is a former olympic swimmer,

she won a silver medal in  Mexico City 1968.

She should have won the gold but, she lost focus because of a beautiful Australian rival.

It’s about how different your life is depending on where you live and who you love.

Basically.

Interesting and intriguing.

I often think about the choices I have made or have avoided making, and how my life could be different.

Plus I have had lakes and pools and childhood memories and beautiful women on the brain lately.

Somehow it seems fitting that I should be reading this now.

I’ll let you know what I think, probably tomorrow.

Later girls

BB

Isabelle the first and hopefully not the last

The summer heat has been upon us for a while and it has been exhausting.

  When I was a little kid I used to go to summer camp for a few weeks every summer,

 this went on for 3 or 4 years.

For an only child this was not the easiest of experiences , but, it was far from traumatic.

I remember swimming in those cold Laurentian lakes,

 wouldn’t that be fabulous in 45 degree weather?

Singing songs by the campfire and a beautiful camp counselor whose name was, Isabelle.

In my memory, Isabelle has long, almost straw coloured hair, she wears a red t-shirt and cutoff  jean shorts.

She  smelled vaguely of shampoo and a bug spray and tucked us in at night.

Luminous, perfection— captured in memory.

I must have been 8 or 9 and I remember her being the first woman I wanted to be close to.

It was love.

I know, I know– what the hell do you know about love at 8?

Well, I knew from that day forward that women were it for me.

I doubt that Isabelle was even a lesbian,

 I wasn’t,

 I was a kid but,

 I knew that my eventual love would come in the shape of a woman.

Maybe not that clearly but, I knew.

I also remember noticing that she didn’t wear a bra under her t-shirt,

 so obviously my thoughts were not all chaste. 🙂

She liked me and I must have looked at her with stars in my eyes.

I know I’m rambling. It’s the heat.

The reason I’m telling you all this is that last night I had dinner with friends.

 We had a great time.

Good food, good company and I remembered that I can be and have, fun.

I lose that occasionally, this I blame on hormones, and an all work no play kind of life.

So, here’s to fun and not taking things too seriously,

 and perhaps recapturing the feel of a cold mountain lake , the warmth and smell of a bonfire and

the wonder of an Isabelle.

I know a girl, she has brown eyes and perfect lips and she looks at me and,

 I feel special, I am special.

Perhaps that is enough.

Later girls

have some fun

BB

It is soooo Hot

We are having a heat wave in Montreal,

 actually the entire eastern part of North America is smog and heat.

 I have been in most of the day-

 I hate the heat,

 and I didn’t have much to do (day off).

A friend gave a copy of,  Back To Basics- A Butch-Femme Anthology.

This book was published by Bella After Dark a few years ago (2004)

I’m really glad she did I enjoyed it.

I expected this anthology to be like most of them.

Some stories I would like, some I would hate and, some would just not be my thing.

I was surprised this anthology contained some truly thought provoking fiction.

Don’t get me wrong, I love lesbian romance and erotica.

But, this book was a notch above,

 with some stories that asked some questions about our notions of butch, femme and what truly is feminine.

You should check it out.

Next on my list, one of the books I bought with my birthday gift certificate,

 Micheal Tolliver Lives!by Armistead Maupin.

I remember loving all of Maupin’s Tales of the City series as well as The Night Listener,

I hope I enjoy this one as much.

One thing is for sure, I will be sharing.

I anticipate having a lot of time to read, with the heat people don’t go book browsing.

I hope I am wrong, but, if I am right,

 I am equipped with quite a few books.

Have a good one, stay cool.

Later girls

BB

Of childhood, and the love of a good woman

The French writer, aviator, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is quoted as saying,

We are of our childhood, as we are of our nation.

I read this recently in a column in a newspaper, it struck me, so true and so simple.

I am a quote junkie, I collect them. I write them in a little black notebook.

For me and now, a little bit, for you.

I believe we really are of our childhood, we learn about love and what it means at a tender age.

Not only the love that we receive but, the example of our parents’ love for one another.

I am lucky in that way,

I come from generations of imperfect people who loved each other imperfectly,

 but, love each other they did.

Quite a legacy.

We learn also to see the world in childhood, in fact many worlds, imagination is also a potent world.

We can be anything, when I was 8 or 9, I wanted to be in movies.

 Later, I wanted to make them,

 later still I wanted to write them.

I haven’t given up on that,  yet

A girl must dream even if she is a middle-aged bookseller   ( All in all a pretty cool job).

The point is I have always believed. I learnt that in my childhood.

I don’t mean to be reductive, we are of many things, childhood is very important but, so are other things.

Friendship, health, education, all of these factors impact our worldview.

The love of a cherished partner is also a major determinant, in our happiness.

I love the phrase, the love of a good woman.

I know it is slightly old-fashioned and perhaps a tad paternalistic, originally.

I don’t see it that way, I long to be some one’s good woman loving and to have it reciprocated.

Just a few random thoughts I wanted to share with you.

Later girls (or guys, I don’t discriminate)

BB

Romance and the single butch

I could have called this post, sex and the single butch,

 or love and the single butch

but, this single butch seeks romance, above else.

Ah, romance, the courting and ultimate seduction of a woman, it’s what makes life worth living.

The problem is  I have not been very successful at it for years.

When I was young I was something of a stud.

It was about swagger and bravado.

Of course, it was all an act, who knows anything at that age.

But, since I got top marks in high school drama class, I was believable.

I managed to convince a few women that I had more experience and was more worldly than I really was.

It was great, I learned so much, and a truly good time was had by all.

I was goal oriented, I wanted to learn how to please a woman.

My studly life was over when I met a special woman, who I loved.

We were happy for many years, and then, unhappy for many years.

I wasn’t a very good partner, but, I was and am her friend.

I am grateful to her, for her patience and friendship.

I lived with guilt and hurt for many years and aside from a few meaningless sexual encounters,

I lived without love in a romantic sense.

I was in a coma.

A few years ago I fell madly in love, I really thought she was the one,

she wasn’t,

 she broke my heart.

I don’t think she meant to, we just weren’t on the same page.

She was wrong for me, she wasn’t even a reader,

 can you imagine?

Anyway, to say I am gun shy and confused would be an understatement.

Does the possibility of romance still exist  for a middle aged bookish butch?

The world is more open to sexual minorities than it ever has been.

People  identify themselves with greater ease  as gay, bisexual, whatever.

Sexual encounters are always possible.

But, true connection body, heart, soul and mind?

Flowers and poetry is it possible still?

Followed by  love, not perfection, love.

I hope and believe  it is,

 and this butch in spite of numerous bruises and strike outs,

remains optimistic.

Tell me girls,

 do you?

Am I crazy and naive?

Thanks for reading this and sharing my thoughts and ramblings.

Later guys, next time

Books, Books, Books.

BB