My Ramblings – Page 79 – Bookish Butch

Must read, housekeeping and pictures I really like

First off,

you have to read this post,

on, My Words! it is brilliant,

http://fcs2.wordpress.com/2011/02/17/the-fl-words/

Also Amy and Cass,

did a joint review of The Price Of Salt,

check it out here,

http://amckiereads.com/2011/02/14/joint-review-the-price-of-salt-by-patricia-highsmith/

or here,

http://bonjourcass.com/2011/02/14/review-the-price-of-salt-by-patricia-highsmith/

or both,

they are slightly different,

Also I wondered if one of you wizzes, could help me, with a slight problem. How the hell do you put, a button on your blog? And how do I leave a comment on blogger, it never works. It pains me to show such ignorance but, it must be done. Help!

So, the rest of this post is just pictures,

of some of my favourites,

and things, people, I find beautiful,

and since beauty is in the eye of the beholder…

Bruce Chatwin by Robert Mapplethorpe. I love Chatwin, his books, his life and of course, his boots.

My favourite writer, John Irving. Drinking my favourite beverage, coffee, in Amsterdam. If he’d be wearing plaid it would be perfect:-)

My favourite bisexual, Colette, with her butch, Missy.

Shakespeare and company in Paris. Enough said.

The truly bookish are never deterred. London during the Blitz.

I knew you were waiting for them. Yeah, baby Blundstones.

Tamara De Lempicka, knew the female form.

Forbes plaid, my favourite.

The most beautiful structure on earth, Brooklyn Bridge.

Babe Ruth, now that’s a gut!!

Emma Thompson. Esquire magazine once had a caption that read: The woman we would most like to read Ulysses in bed with. I can see that.

Well, that’s it for now,

I’m tired I’ve got to turn in.

Later girls,

Dreaming of 70’s icons, makes for weird symbolism

I had a really weird dream,

last night,

I dreamt,

I was watching,

The Partridge family.

Bizarre.

I wasn’t a child,

I was me,

middle aged,

bookish butch.

They were singing,

I Think I love You.

Anyone remember,

that song?

I think I love you so what am I so afraid of
I’m afraid that I’m not sure of a love there is no cure for
I think I love you isn’t that what life is made of
Though it worries me to say that I never felt this way

I haven’t watched,

The Partridge Family,

in minimum,

thirty years,

I never really liked,

David Cassidy.

Susan Dey,

on the other hand,

oh yeah,

love big jawed women,

always did,

can’t explain it,

don’t want to.

But, really,

why would I be dreaming,

of watching,

The Partridge Family?

If my subconscious,

is attempting communication,

with me,

it’s doing a crap job,

I don’t get it,

mixed signals.

Hum,

…..

wait a minute.

…..

Mixed signals,

I am queen of,

mixed signals,

sending, receiving,

I wonder if that’s a girl thing,

or a dyke thing,

or a butch thing,

maybe,

it’s none of the above,

and it a,

me thing.

I have a pattern,

I feign insouciance,

and then,

I think,

she’ll think,

I don’t like her,

so I make a flashy,

too flashy,

statement.

I go from no sell,

to big sell,

to soft sell,

to last chance,

quasi belligerent sell,

and back to insouciance,

and butch understanding.

Idiot.

No wonder,

women flee me,

I’m nuts:-)

David Cassidy is telling me,

next time,

tell her you think you love her,

right?

David Cassidy as oracle,

obviously,

I watched too much television,

as a child.

Oh,

and I have to stop eating oranges,

before bed.

Strange dreams and interpretations,

ensue.

This is actually a real dream,

I need to read erotica or something,

my dreams suck:-)

Later girls,

Cold, reading and ego stroking

A cold day, very cold day.

Thermal socks, long johns,

still cold.

It’s February,

the coldest month of the year.

And,

I had a decent day,

sales were OK,

which is unexpected,

in such weather,

the bookish types,

tend to be hermits,

in the subarctic temperatures,

they stay home, and read,

re-read if necessary.

Today, some of them needed,

to stock up.

I was busy in spurts,

which left,

lots of time,

for reading.

the perks,

of a bookseller,

time to read:-)

I am reading,

Where The Red Fern Grows,

a very enjoyable book.

Strange.

It’s about a boy who hunts,

raccoons, in the Ozarks,

and yet, I like it,

go figure.

I have a feeling,

there is going to be,

an Old Yeller,

type denouement.

I’ll probably cry, like a little girl,

some tough butch, I am:-)

Around three o’clock,

I was eating my orange,

and reading a gripping,

scene, in which,

Billy, Old Dan and Little Ann,

are chasing down,

the ghost coon,

in an effort to win a bet,

off the Pritchard boys,

bad seed types,

who you can, easily imagine,

growing into Deliverance like, characters.

The door opens,

and I get hit with a frosty chill,

I look up, say hello,

and insert the bookmark,

into the book.

It turns out to be this woman,

who I haven’t seen in an age.

I don’t know her name,

although I’m pretty sure,

she must have given it to me,

at some point.

This is odd, for me,

I have an amazing memory.

I’m not bragging,

it has nothing to do,

with intelligence,

you have it or you don’t,

I never forget a name.

But, this woman,

blank.

I have a theory about that,

this woman comes on strong.

Really strong.

Put it this way, even I notice.

I don’t recall if I have ever mentioned my faulty gaydar, probably. It is practically non existent. For me to figure out a woman is: A) Gay or B) flirting with me, it needs to be obvious to a very straight 90 year old. Either that, or she tells me.

This woman,

always looks at me,

looks into me,

might be more appropriate,

as if she sees us doing,

very intimate physical things,

to each other.

She makes me stutter,

and drop things,

she makes my voice rise,

to a nervous pitch,

she makes me giggle.

I don’t know why,

she’s not my type,

and I don’t like the blatant,

come on,

but,

I am not made of stone,

and I react to blatant sexual interest,

like the red blooded butch,

I am.

But, today, honestly,

I was glad to see her,

glad to get my ego stroked,

and stroke she did.

She started off by telling me,

how great I looked,

I didn’t,

bad hair day,

puffy eyes from a bad nights sleep,

and chapped lips,

from February and a recently,

departed cold.

Then she tells me she’s moved to,

the country and I should come for a weekend,

some time.

I mentioned I don’t know her name, right?

Anyway, another customer walked in,

and I was saved.

But, after they both left with several books,

I felt ridiculously buoyant,

like I still had it.

Strange.

It is oddly satisfying to be wanted,

by someone who you don’t,

want.

Later girls,

Do you believe in Astrology?

Do you believe in astrology?

I do,

sort of,

it is one of,

many things,

I believe in,

sort of:-)

Explains why,

I’m an agnostic,

maybe,

maybe not.

This is my horoscope,

for the coming week.

The guy’s pretty good.

Taurus-The Bull:

that’s me.

You’re very familiar with the inexhaustible longings that you harbor in your depths. Your primal hungers for love and connection are never far from your awareness. But the sad thing is that you often regard this as a problem — as a vulnerability that disempowers you. This Valentine season I’m asking you to change all that. I’m urging you to see your enormous yearnings as strengths . . . to celebrate them as essential fuel for your vitality . . . to treat them as crucial ingredients in your lust for life. Take it from someone who has seen too many people crippled by their lack of passion: You’re lucky to be so well-endowed with desire.

source:http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/

well-endowed with desire,

that’s a keeper my friends.

The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars but, in ourselves.

So what do the girls think?

Is astrology legit,

or a whole lot of hogwash?

I’m not sure but,

I do know,

that I exhibit many of,

the Taurus characteristics,

steadiness and loyalty,

passion and stubbornness,

large appetites,

for everything.

A belief in love,

and in freedom,

and that,

they are not,

mutually exclusive.

I also,

know that as I get older,

pride is more,

important,

and sometimes,

less so.

Like most humans,

I am a mass of contradictions.

How much my contradictions,

have to do,

with the day and hour,

I was born,

I don’t know.

I find astrology,

entertaining.

The possible compatibility,

incompatibility,

of friends,

partners,

family.

Different visions,

of the world,

sometimes lead to problems.

But, is that more the result,

of environment,

life experience,

culture,

socio-economics,

sexual orientation,

and proclivity,

I don’t know.

What do you think?

Anyone out there looking,

for a sweet,

stubborn,

butch,

Taurus,

who happens to be,

well endowed with desire?

:-))

Later girls,

Jude The Obscure

I took this book out of the library,

because somebody,

I’m trying to get to know,

told me,

it was her favourite book,

well,

top two.

As mentioned,

in a previous post,

I have attempted Hardy,

before,

without much success.

This book is different,

I’m going to let you in,

on a little secret,

Jude,

is a name,

I have real fondness for,

Saint-Jude was,

my Grandmaman’s,

favourite saint,

the patron of lost causes.

I figure,

maybe,

it’s an omen:-)

So,

this novel is brilliant.

But, it is so dark,

I had trouble finishing it.

I know, a few of you warned me!!

Jude is a Stone Mason,

who wants to be a scholar,

he dreams of going to the university,

but,

men of his rank, class, village,

do not attend the university.

Jude, would like to beat the odds.

He teaches himself,

reads and reads,

teaches himself Greek and Latin,

the tools of the scholar.

He meets a woman,

she takes him off his course,

and traps him into marriage.

His wife is so wrong for him,

Jude would now have been described as a young man with a forcible,meditative,earnest… countenance. page 85

Arabella, his wife,

is a pig farmer’s daughter,

ambitious and practical,

a tad,

brutish.

A sensitive, would be scholar,

and,

an ambitious farmer’s daughter,

ill suited and miserable,

that is what characterises,

their union.

But, Jude has a sense of duty,

and propriety,

he carries on.

Arabella, not hindered,

by such things,

leaves him to go to,

Australia with her parents.

It is for the best,

they don’t love each other.

Jude will meet his cousin, Sue,

of whom he has heard tell,

all his life.

Sue, will bring light and love,

as well as,

confusion and pain,

into his life,

but,

their love cannot,

exist in a world of convention,

and religion.

Their marginality as a couple,

will bring horror and,

unspeakable tragedy to them,

and,

theirs.

I don’t want to spoil anything,

by telling you about,

Jude and Sue.

I will say this,

they go from being,

she: a brilliant,marginal thinker,

he: an earnest dreamer,

to broken people.

I make you want to read the book, huh?

Hardy, is violently critical,

of the institution of marriage,

marriage sanctioned,

by state and church.

Love and commitment,

have nothing to do,

with laws and conventional morality.

It is about the people involved,

and should concern only them.

I also think the novel is about,

how being true to yourself is,

essential,

and everyone will try and stop you,

and force you to conform,

and ultimately truth might,

destroy you.

Not exactly a light read.

Of course, a lot has changed,

since 1895,

the year of publication.

Non-conformity,

is seen in a much better light,

in some circles,

practically a must,

but,

perhaps,

I am looking at this,

through my western world,

big city,

prism.

Perhaps,

things haven’t changed that much.

In my world the church,

has very little impact,

in some places,

I’m thinking,

much more.

I don’t mean to be reductive,

this is a novel,

of immense complexity,

and Jude and Sue,

are fascinating characters.

I wonder what it says about you,

when it is your favourite book?

That you believe,

love and marriage are,

poison,

and that non-conformity,

leads to horror,

or,

on the contrary,

that we must strive,

against all odds,

to be,

ourselves,

and to,

love.

Quite a read,

don’t read if, depressed or in….. february.

I think, I’ll lay off the 19Th century,

for a while.

Later girls,

The Library

biankyrr: The Library…where the cool kids hang out

I love Obama and I love libraries,

great picture,

from Bookshelf porn,

I’m addicted to this site. 🙂

**********************************

When I went to college and university,

we used to have these,

and these,

this is for the benefit of you,

youngins,

Did you get, my best West Virginia accent or maybe that’s Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies:-)

Card catalogues,

now you know what they look like.

This post is about Libraries.

I’ve always had a thing for libraries,

and,

librarians,

although,

I have never dated one,

a regrettable circumstance.

I have always been eager to learn.

I love libraries like,

I love bookstores,

perhaps,

heresy,

more.

Libraries are silent,

almost,

you walk the stacks,

and all you hear,

is the soft echo,

of your boots,

and your heart.

Row upon row,

of neatly arranged books,

bound books,

for the most part.

Every subject,

many languages.

Back in the days,

when dinosaurs walked the earth,

the 80’s,

this is what seating looked like in libraries,

The library at my college,

was housed in the old chapel part,

of a convent,

and it sort of looked like that,

add a little squalor,

worse chairs,

formica tables,

and some pretty light,

from the stained glass windows,

and,

you have a close approximation.

Nowadays,

libraries are all chrome and glass,

witness our Bibliotheque Nationale,

right here in Montreal,

It’s nice,

it’s clean,

it’s functional.

An impressive amount,

of people use it,

and the project,

came in on time,

and on budget.

This might not be impressive,

in your kneck of the woods,

but,

in Québec,

it is practically unique.

When, I went to,

Concordia University,

a no name,

no reputation,

popular,

university,

here,

in Montreal.

The library was housed,

in a riquety old building,

with riquety old elevators,

the stacks were very narrow,

and you could hear the hum,

of neon lights,

nothing sexy or inspiring,

about it,

more horror movie,

setting.

Which might explain why I can’t find a picture

For years,

I didn’t go to the library.

I bought books,

and haunted bookstores,

both,

new and used.

A year ago,

or so,

I went back to the library.

I’m glad I did,

the smell of it,

wow,

like coming home.

There are few things in life,

more important than,

a feeling of home.

For me,

the smell of roasting chicken,

mom style,

the smell of clean sheets,

the light smell of fresh,

impossible to define,

on,

a woman’s kneck or hair,

home,

comfort,

sensuality.

Libraries are sensuous for their,

smell,

for what they represent,

knowledge,

discovery,

escape.

The library engages my senses,

and brings me peace of mind.

I think I’ll go for a visit,

soon,

maybe,

today.

Later girls,

**addendum went to the library and took out Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin, next on my list for The GLBTQ Challenge and in the spirit of Cass’ book apocalypse, Gertrude Stein, fun stuff. Still reading -Jude The Obscure and will review/appreciate soon***

Happy Valentine’s Day

Well, it’s Valentine’s day,

I know it’s on Monday,

but,

who goes out,

on a Monday?

I do,

it’s my day off,

but,

I digress.

I wanted to wish all of you,

wonderful girls,

and a few guys,

with outstanding taste:-)

Happy Valentine’s Day!!

A romantic like me,

loves,

Valentine’s Day.

Not that I believe,

you should keep,

your expressions,

of love,

exclusively to Valentine’s,

but,

Valentine’s is great.

I still have the card my first,

crush,

gave me on Valentine’s,

I was crazy about her,

but,

we were friends,

and we were seventeen.

Ah, to be seventeen again , sigh…..on second thought uh huh!!

I also have the first card my ex,

friend extraordinaire

made me for Valentine’s,

it was homemade,

and so was the envelope,

it was/is beautiful,

she made a self portrait,

wearing this goofy colourful sweater,

she had bought in New York,

and she cut out hundreds of tiny,

pink hearts,

out of cardboard,

that she put in the card,

they fell out,

sort of like confetti,

there are still,

a few in the envelope.

I lost most of them,

over the years,

it’s been more than,

twenty years,

but,

I have the card,

and,

will always treasure it.

Hard to top,

card wise.

My ex is the bomb.

I wish I wasn’t alone,

on Valentine’s,

well,

The Dude is here,

snoring,

but,

it’s OK,

there’s always next year.

I wish you all,

love,

romance,

hot sex,

and Lot’s of,

spooning:-)

Later girls,

**Ah the cute Butch and Femme, warms the heart***

I thought my vocabulary was better

I love words,

all words,

inelegant and gauche,

vulgar and swear,

erudite and learned,

slang and joual,

words of love and hate.

I think my vocabulary,

is decent,

I speak both French,

and English,

but,

English is the language,

I read most,

it is the language,

I write in.

I love words.

Tonight, at the bookstore,

I looked up a word,

in one of the old dictionaries,

in the language arts section.

It is a word I used,

yesterday,

with my friend,

the busy writer.

We were discussing,

a very painful,

and personal,

incident in her life,

and I said the word,

that applied,

was,

perfidy,

abject and absolute,

betrayal.

It is the kind of word,

you use,

once every five years.

There are others,

pandemonium,

seismic,

obsidian.

While scanning the shelf,

in the bookstore,

I came across,

a book called,

word advantage,

how to build,

your vocabulary,

for success.

So, for fun,

I took the pretest,

I scored,

62 out of 100.

The book told me,

my vocabulary,

needed improvement.

Funny, I thought it,

was better.

Tomorrow, I begin,

building word power:-)

Success will undoutedly be,

mine.

Well, the NyQuil,

is kicking in,

Goodnight all.

Later girls,

Busy writer convinces bookish butch to try again

Last night,

I went out to dinner with,

my friend the busy writer,

tell you how much,

I like this lady,

I’m willing to give up,

Gray’s Anatomy,

every other week,

so we can some have some,

one on one time,

now that’s friendship:-)

She was worried about me,

she reads my blog,

and every once in a while,

I get an email,

“BB, you OK? I read your blog”

She’s sweet,

she worries about me,

way too much.

No need to worry,

I’m OK,

and although sometimes,

I rant and whine,

I’m processing.

It’s how I deal with things,

or figure out what I think,

about things,

I babble,

well,

I used to,

now,

I blog

which is occasionally,

synonymous,

blogging=babbling,

sometimes:-)

So, busy writer and I were talking,

and I say to her,

You know,

this woman I met recently,

she was perfect for me in every way,

except she wasn’t.

Busy writer says,

write about that.

So, although,

I said I wouldn’t write about,

my pathetic love life,

anymore, I think,

busy writer is right,

I should write about this.

Ever meet someone who is perfect for you,

in every way,

chemistry,

similar cultural background,

similar world views,

complementarity,

butch/femme

You go out,

have a great time,

and it doesn’t work out.

It’s not about fault,

or blame,

it’s obvious that the perfect person,

isn’t the right person at this time.

Maybe it’s about timing,

or,

expecting different things,

maybe it’s about fear or,

who knows what,

maybe,

you think she’s perfect for you,

and you for her,

but,

on second thought,

she doesn’t think so.

No more, no less.

I think busy writer is right,

my sampling isn’t large enough,

or perhaps even representative.

I need to keep trying.

Any volunteers? 🙂

You know dating,

and it’s ultimate reward,

love,

are hard and arduous roads,

and from what I hear not just for me.

So, I’ll keep trying,

busy writer convinced me my mojo,

wasn’t broken,

I just need to work it out more often.

End of babbling,

for today,

Later girls,

My butch abilities, lost

I feel like I have lost my instincts,

and that my compass is broken.

I don’t know which side is up.

Not about everything,

I can still do my job,

I can still polish my boots,

I can still cook dinner,

I can still beat any body at Jeopardy,

and I can still read.

But, I have lost,

my abilities,

to understand and please women,

well,

femmes,

since they are the ones,

I am interested in dating.

–

My butch is broken.

You would think,

that since I am absolutely crazy,

about women,

and that I happen to be one,

it would give me insight.

Right?

Being sensitive,

earnest,

honest about your feelings,

showing them,

telling them,

how much you desire them,

and how wonderful,

you think they are,

these are good things,

right?

Be sweet,

be true,

be strong,

be brave,

lay it on the line,

be vulnerable,

be,

Butch.

Femmes like a butch to court them,

right?

attention,

flirtatious notes,

patience and understanding,

you know,

old fashioned courting.

Nothing to do with stalking.

Well, I always thought so,

it is part of my belief system.

I respect,

worship,

adore,

women.

In the past year,

a few women went from really liking me,

and even desiring me,

to wanting to be friends and,

dumping me.

Obviously, my compass is broken.

My butch mojo,

failing.

I may have to change the name of my blog,

to bookish monk.

I think I may have a future,

as a monk.

Because, my butchness is gone.

No more about my pathetic love life.

You girls deserve better.

Books are better.

Later girls,