From time to time, it may seem as though things are cooled between us: our dances - less frequent; our passion - more tamed. Both the inevitable toll of life's demands and routine holding spontaneity under siege.

These days, moments of intimacy require planning and consideration. You are no longer mine at my leisure. And likewise, I am too often unavailable when you are in your most sensuous moods.

Once, the greatest obstacle to our alignment was simply meeting on the same shore. Now, far more elements conspire against our harmony: more conflicting factors, variables, responsibilities... more. 

But loving you has always been the best kind of challenge. I need you to know that my love for you endures. It may have matured, and it may have deepened, but it has never been diminished. We have a shared history that is something to behold, and nothing can take it away. The longer I love you, the more powerful that history becomes, and I experience it instantly and all at once any moment I feel your touch.

And so, from time to time, it may seem as though things are cooled between us. But pay it no mind and rest assured: when we manage to align, the result is something beautiful.

Variables with Kimi Werner from Patagonia on Vimeo.

"The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed."

-E.H.

Sea Stories Johnny Abegg from Macauley Rae on Vimeo.

Sea Stories Belinda Baggs from Macauley Rae on Vimeo.

...

Ten years from now, I hope my future self is at a party.

Ten years from now, I hope a previously unknown woman approaches future me.

Ten years from now, I hope this future woman asks future me, “What do you do?”

Ten years from now, I hope my future self replies, “I explore.”

...

I can be completely alone with her.

On a cool winter's night, I can lay awake and listen to her drawing breath.

There is a rhythm -- A naturally occurring progression that  can lull you to sleep, or, keep you awake all night.

...

I can be completely alone without her.

Left high and dry, the panicked sensation seeps in. She's left from my life, and took everything with her.

She can be away for hours or months. Every second without her is lonelier than the last. 

"Come to the bed again."
"All right. I'll come."
"Oh darling, darling, darling," I said.
"You see," she said. "I do anything you want."
"You're so lovely."
"I'm afraid I'm not very good at it yet."
"You're lovely."
"I want what you want. There isn't any me any more. Just what you want."
"You sweet."
"I'm good. Aren't I good? You don't want any other girls, do you?"
"No."
"You see? I'm good. I do what you want."

"Let's drop the war."
"It's very hard. There's no place to drop it."
"Let's drop it anyway."
"All right."
We looked at each other in the dark. I thought she was very beautiful and I took her hand. She let me take it and I held it and put my arm under her arm.
"No," she said. I kept my arm where it was.
"Why not?"
"No."
"Yes," I said. "Please." I leaned forward in the dark to kiss her and there was a sharp stinging flash. She had slapped my face hard. Her hand had hit my nose and eyes, and tears came in my eyes from the reflex.
"I'm so sorry," she said. I felt I had a certain advantage.
"You were quite right."
"I'm dreadfully sorry," she said. "I just couldn't stand the nurse's-evening-off aspect of it. I didn't mean to hurt you. I did hurt you, didn't I?"
She was looking at me in the dark. I was angry and yet certain, seeing it all ahead like the moves in a chess game.
"You did exactly right," I said. "I don't mind at all."
"Poor man."
"You see I've been leading a sort of a funny life. And I never even talk English. And then you are so very beautiful." I looked at her.
"You don't need to say a lot of nonsense. I said I was sorry. We do get along."
"Yes," I said. "And we have gotten away from the war."
She laughed. It was the first time I had ever heard her laugh. I watched her face.
"You are sweet." she said.
"No, I'm not."
"Yes. You are a dear. I'd be glad to kiss you if you don't mind."
I looked in her eyes and put my arm around her as I had before and kissed her. I kissed her hard and held her tight and tried to open her lips; they were closed tight. I was still angry and as I held her suddenly she shivered. I held her close against me and could feel her heart beating and her lips opened and her head went back against my hand and then she was crying on my shoulder.
"Oh, darling," she said. "You will be good to me, won't you?"
What the hell, I thought. I stroked her hair and patted her shoulder. She was crying.
"You will, won't you?" She looked up at me. "Because we're going to have a strange life."

It has been more than a year since my last transmission.

One year of silence.

Sometimes silence says a lot.

Love Letters

Mademoiselle,

Time zones shape our love. They warp it. They knead it.

Like I need you.

If the story of our love so far were a play in 4 Acts, the program could read:

The North Atlantic

The North Pacific ~ Glengarry Highlands

~Chorus~

Glengarry Highlands ~ The Caribbean Sea

The Caribbean Sea ~ The Alps

~Chorus~

The Alps ~ Frenchman’s Bay

~Chorus~

The Alps ~ The Coral Sea

Intermission

The Coral Sea...

The audience is still waiting in great anticipation for that final act, my actress and peer. The Act currently in performance is of course The Alps ~ The Coral Sea, but it is on its final scene.

But for this Act, I was always living in your past. You would rise and wait for me. I would wake to your words. I woke up to those words-on-a-screen with such delight, forgetting they were not you. Sometimes I would wake so early, that our clocks would somehow mesh. Yet most nights you would fall fast asleep, and I would go for dinner. Then I had the sly advantage, of creative time while you dreamed. I would write you words and words and words; each poignant and so sweet. Alone harmless, but together strong, I liked to think they could fulfil you. But words are really nothing more than tiny vessels for emotion; continent to continent; sea to shining sea; emotions crossing entire oceans to get to you.

The next morning, as the sun rose over your Zugerberg, you would find me in your office. And while you tippity-typed on your keys all day, sound asleep I lay. Over and over the process would go, each one's night blending ceaselessly into the other's day. The cycle is still very much the same, now in this penultimate Act, but the course of time reversed a major role. Twice the time between you and I points to a considerable loss. Windows closed and blinds were tightened. Our times rarely meshed. Now I am the future, living on the new day.

But I am not as stoic as you. Nor as Heroic. Elephant eyes tire early, and I would leave you waiting for her. The other lover, with quick moods. My other life, spent romancing the Sea. Our words became necessity. Communication and material facts. The emotions were still there of course, but the vessels' stores could not be full, when carried across such tumultuous seas.

So please, my vixen, accept these words. It is imperative that you do. I need you to feel me as I feel you, so mad and drunk in love. You feed my soul, and drive me mad. You keep me sane but I am crazy about you, and it is 'oh so sweet!' to be.

Well it feels like I am the King of Spain and you are my sacred land. I travel by ships across the globe, claiming new lands in your holy name. This is the declaration. Gather all ye to hear:

This land, Australia is hereby tendered to She. It is Hers to keep and do as She pleases, and She commands your servitude.

I am waiting here with humble chariot to take you on your tour - The tour of your newest achievement, your new territory. I am waiting here forever in love and in honour of your Excellency. You are Queen and I am a pretend King. But you teach me love, and wear my ring, and my thoughts are bells, each one ringing loud for you. I love your Kingdom, Regina SNC, and I want to bear your flag, escorting you in chariot to each of your conquered lands. I am by your side until I your Empire falls. And only if I die in love, will I have given you all I can.

Until then, I give you my all. I give you everything.

I love you and I love our Play, each and every Act.

Guten Abend, Leading Lady, I am your Leading Man.

-Monsieur

My Lovely Lady

But let's never question the possibilities available to us...

...Let's never settle for anything but the Best.

I agree...
...I do not plan to.

I love you...
...my lovely Lady.

My handsome suitor...

Sent at 9:16 PM on Monday

I am wilting,
Petals, all falling for you.
Waiting for the sunshine of your love,
To bring me back to bloom.

www.wave-garden.com

NKAW78

soft core business correspondence

I’d like to take you right now.

I’d like to take you in your office.

I'd like that too. Or, in the conference room…

The conference room.

On the table.

I take you by the hips and guide you through the door.

I spin you around to face me. I kiss you, hard, on your lips. I place my tongue in your mouth.

I pull your light, yellow sweater over your head. I kiss your collar bone.

With one hand on your lower back, I lay you down on the table.

I run my mouth from your collar bone; to each breast; to your stomach; back to your mouth.

I undo your pants.

…Should I continue?

YES.

I step back; take a breath; look you in the eye; take your pants by the ankles; pull them off; throw them on a chair.

I join you on the table.

I hover over top of you.

I take off my shirt.

You undo my pants

I roll you over. You are lying on your stomach, your hips wrapped in my legs.

I kiss the back of your neck as I undo your bra.

I take hold of you gently. I command you by reaching around to your breasts.

You turn over.

We face each other now.

Now you command.

Your bra is on the table.

One hand on your bare breast.

One hand on your panties.

I move aside, no longer straddling your core.

I kiss you; pull your panties off; I kiss you; again; and again; open mouth.

My hand is…

Feeling.

Touching.

Learning.

You gasp.

I silence you with another kiss

You push.

I feel deeper.

You free your mouth; gasp once more.

I move my mouth down to the front of your neck; your skin tastes sweet.

You push again.

I lay flat.

You roll to your knees; grab my pants; roll them down

Your hand moves to my core. You grip me through the fabric of my briefs.

Your eyes meet mine.

My eyes ask if you want me.

The yes barely leaves your lips.

I am inside of you

We begin slow; it is…

Rhythmic.

Simple.

Deep.

Business - like the conference room around us.

Someone knocks; an office chair blocks the door; we hear them mumble; we hear them walk away.

We do not stop.

We slow down.

So slow.

Oh baby.

Take me away.

Slow becomes fast.

Your hands are palm down on the luxurious finish of the large business desk.

My weight, in its entirety, is on top of you.

Don’t stop.

I am beyond control.

Pleasure, coursing through my body, is your pleasure.

You are commanding me now and forever.

In an instant, you've made it to your knees.

Your hand is holding my hand, holding your breast.

I am the deepest I have ever felt inside of you; now behind you.

Your hips fight my hips.

Pushing, harder and harder, against mine.

In unison, we release, drawing away from one another.

Then, we collide again.

And again.

And again.

We are unaware of the world; unaware of each other.

We are no longer ourselves.

We are something entirely different.

We are one being.

With a final gasp, I am an explosion, and you are the fuel to the flame.

You are the epicenter.

From you the explosion is born.

It is pleasure.

It is passion.

It is release.

It is primal instinct.

It is the creation of love, captured in an instant.

Baby!

Your words…

I love your words.

I love you.

Don’t stop… never stop…

…your words…

As sun rose over the lovers’ bodies, they knew not to open eyes.

They would not face the life waiting before them.

For two weeks, there was never a moment apart.

Now they faced the breadth of the Atlantic.

They had conquered that great distance twice before, but never the Pacific.

And now, they faced both great seas.

Two weeks ago she was sitting next to him; they were dining in a bistro on Front St.

She had the bouillabaisse.

He had the steak.

They laughed and kissed and acknowledged one another.

An acceptance of things unsaid.

Things unsaid but all too understood.

Romance the Sea: Pacific

"What the ordinary landsman accepts as the common lot, the daily round of domestic ills, children, responsibilities, the ordinary seaman is apt to look upon as a disappointment of his hopes, an altogether exceptional trial, and an invasion of his liberty." Stephen Maturin, The Mauritius Command

For too long I have been away from the sea. For a while longer I will remain this way.

Yet, soon I will return to the ocean I love.

A new Romance begins, January 2011.

see the sea in the built environment around you:

alone in a crowd

Introducing Olin Reid on his hand built T. Dot Special

And Ladies,

He's single.

AI FOREVER

The world has lost a true warrior for the surfing world.

Rest in peace, Andy Irons. 3 time World Champion.

She felt him trembling and she thought that this was the kind of cry she had wanted to tear from him - this surrender through the shreds of his tortured resistance. Yet she knew, at the same time, that the triumph was his, that her laughter was her tribute to him, that her defiance was submission, that the purpose of all her violent strength was only to make his victory greater - he was holding her body against his, as if stressing his wish to let her know that she was now only a tool for the satisfaction of his desire - and his victory, she knew, was her wish to let him reduce her to that. Whatever I am, she thought, whatever pride of person I may hold, the pride of my courage, of my work, of my mind and my freedom - that is what I offer you for the pleasure of your body, that is what I want you to use in your service - and that you want it to serve you is the greatest reward I can have.

There were lights burning in the two rooms behind them. He took her wrist and threw her inside his room, making the gesture tell her that he needed no sign of consent or resistance. He locked the door, watching her face. Standing straight, holding his glance, she extended her arm to the lamp on the table and turned out the light. He approached. He turned the light on again, with a single, contemptuous jerk of his wrist. She saw him smile for the first time, a slow, mocking, sensual smile that stressed the purpose of his action.

He was holding her half-stretched across the bed, he was tearing her clothes off, while her face pressed against him, her mouth moving down the line of his neck, down his shoulder. She knew that every gesture of her desire for him struck him like a blow, that there was some shudder of incredulous anger within him - yet no gesture would satisfy his greed for every evidence of her desire.

He stood looking down at her naked body, he leaned over, she heard his voice - it was more a statement of contemptuous triumph than a question: "You want it?" Her answer was more a gasp than a word, her eyes closed, her mouth open: "Yes."

She knew that what she felt with the skin of her arms was the cloth of his shirt, she knew the lips she felt on her mouth were his, but in the rest of her body there was no distinction between his being and her own, as there was no division between body and spirit. Through all the steps of years behind them, the steps down a course chosen in the courage of a single loyalty: their love of existence - chosen in the knowledge that nothing will be given, that one must make one's own desire and every shape of its fulfillment - through the steps of shaping metal, rails and motors - they had moved by the power of the thought that one remakes the earth for one's enjoyment, that man's spirit gives meaning to insentient matter by molding it to serve one's chosen goal. The course led them to the moment when, in answer to the highest of one's values, in an admiration not to be expressed by any other form of tribute, one's spirit makes one's body the tribute, recasting it - as proof, as sanction, as reward - into a single sensation of such intensity of joy that no other sanction of one's existence is necessary. He heard the moan of her breath, she felt the shudder of his body, in the same instant.

something we don't understand

wowzers

Ungu from Blake Kueny on Vimeo.

May Day

Stranger than Friction... filming for "Stoked and Broke" from www.KORDUROY.tv on Vimeo.

Traci

I have a friend named Traci. Occasionally she hooks shit up:

http://poemgame.blogspot.com/2010/08/for-seamus.html

She presented herself unannounced, and took me by surprise.

I had been waiting for her, and still she managed to bewilder me.

The truth is I was desperate for her.

I had been waiting for this moment for months; long, hot, summer months drenched in the type of haze and humidity caused by longing and desire. I had been longing for and desiring her for so long I struggled to maintain composure before her now.

We had a history. I first tasted her when I was barely 18 and have been helpless since. There had been affairs in exotic locales across the globe. Staying out late in her arms and sneaking out early to see her whenever she called had left victims. Commitment to family, education, work and lovers all faltered under her undeniable spell.

I would do anything to have her, a fact she knew all too well, mercilessly taking me for all my worth.

She was dangerous. She had the power to erode landscapes, alter climates, float dreams and destroy them with the depth of her passion.

Her mood was unpredictable. There were moments when she became approachable, and these were the moments I lived for. Even when she would have me, there was no telling how long it would last. Our affairs had lasted minutes, hours, weeks and the longest, a month. Each one was drastically different and according to her insatiable temperament. History should have taught me lessons, but she always left me craving her caress once more. This time was no different.

I was standing before her on the beach. The sun had set. Anyone who was around had gone home to supper with loved ones or loneliness without. There was nobody but us.

In the dusk, we embraced. I tasted the salt on her; immersed myself in her touch; dove beneath and inside of her; slipping away on waves of lust and love; trying hard to keep up, keep pace, keep her satisfied.

The stars came out. It was twilight.

I could not stay with her, she would not have it. I would never survive in her world, a vicious truth she never let me forget.

I returned home both exhausted and exhilarated. I lay awake dreaming of her. I did not sleep.

At the first sign of light, I returned to the beach where we had been together the night before. Sure enough, she was waiting for me.

It is my sole belief that no man could ever conquer her. She takes and takes and takes. If I am lucky, or perhaps unlucky depending on the point of view, she gives just enough to make me forget all her taking, and she takes some more.

For two more days I was rendered useless to anyone but her. I would say goodbye to her in the morning and drift hopelessly in thoughts of her until I saw her again that evening.

For two more days our bodies collided in lovers’ bouts. My muscles ached; my flesh became raw, and skin chafed. I gave her everything stored up inside of me and more. I was spent.

There was something lovely about feeling broken by her. I wanted to give her everything. I wanted her to break me. I was spent. My body was done. I could take no more. I had nothing left to give. I was no longer any use.

She had her way, as she always has and always will. And for the time being, I said goodbye to her -- my lover, the Sea.