The Feet That Bring You To Me

I have ugly feet. Big, flat, veiny feet. There's nothing dainty nor feminine about my dawgs! And that's so okay.

These feet have taken me places, dressed up in stilettos or barefoot. I love being barefoot. I have this soothing meditation of me walking barefoot up the winding streets of Greece in a white sundress. I can hear the percussion of wristfuls of bangles and bells around my ankles. And I can feel the heat of the sun, not just on my skin, but also underfoot from the asphalt and rocks I step on.

I have Morton's Foot, too. That's when the second toe is longer than the "big toe". I've read somewhere the French consider it a sign of intelligence. But I have also read it affects approximately 20% of the population, simply too large a percentage, in my opinion, to regard Morton's Syndrome as a mark of smarts.

Big feet are something I inherited from my mother's side of the family. Both my sisters have slim, pretty size 7s, taking after my dad's side. I used to wear my dad's boots! It was virtually impossible for me to shop for shoes in Asia, which is a zapatophile's playground. Thousands of beautifully crafted pairs of shoes in all sorts of colors and materials, strappy and heeled, unlike anything you'd find in a Megalo-Mall of America, and for under thirty bucks! Sizes 4 to 8 available. Oh, and they are small 4s to 8s. Usually, I wear a 9, but in Asia, some of the 9s I tried on felt like 8½s. By the end of my "balikbayan", I was walking into shoe stores and before looking at anything, would ask the sales staff if they carried anything bigger than size 8. Four out of five times they didn't.

I don't think I've ever been embarrassed with my feet, although people have commented they would be embarrassed if they had feet like mine. Well, I like where my feet have taken me. I've hiked through desert and forest, slipped on the wetsox for the Columbia River, laced up many funky bowling shoes, buckled into rented ski boots, paraded in peach pumps in pageants, and danced to whatever beat that was playing in whatever heel I had on.

Dancing in platforms was a nightly activity for me in the '90s. I've suffered only two major sprains requiring my use of crutches. The thing with platforms is they can never be too high. And ANY shoe will improve as a platform!

Particularly stilettos. I love the stiletto heel. There's been talk of the "new stiletto" which has just as thin and high a heel, but instead of coming to a point, the bottom of the heel remains broad. It's fashionable and chic, but it is no stiletto. I say, if you can't use it as a weapon, it's merely a pump. On the other hand, platform stilettos are to legs as the Miracle Bra is to breasts. They just make them look fabulous!

The thing with platform stilettos is that the heel can be crazy high, but your foot doesn't arch severely because of the platform. Yet, since you are towering off the ground on a base heel no bigger than a chicklet gum, your legs stay strong and curvaceous.

Your feet do take a beating, though. Especially if you walk in heels, and I did a lot of walking in heels. I remember when I was in grade school my aunts would make me feel good about my big feet because they said I would grow to be a tall girl. All the models in magazines had size 9 feet. They helped me feel that my feet were okay, and that soon the rest of me would catch up to them.

I'm 5'-2½". The same height I was when my mom bought me my first pair of size 9 boots. I liked being taller, so the first chance I got, I was wearing heeled pumps. I wore heels throughout high school. My role models for fashion and style were the girls who appeared in music videos. I loved the Bangles, and of course Madonna, but I especially loved how the women looked in Duran Duran and ZZTop videos. That's how I dressed in Grade 9.

Oftentimes, I would walk the ten kilometers from school to home. I enjoyed the freedom to explore after school, away from everybody. If I decided to spend a few extra minutes at the park, I would. If I decided to get into that nice man's car, I would. Most of the time, it was just me and the click-click of metal as my bared-down heels struck the pavement. When I passed a park, I would always take advantage of the opportunity to feel the cool grass between my bare toes. After the park, I'd slip into my pumps again, or not. Sometimes I would walk five kilometers barefoot.  Honestly, it isn't as unpleasant as granduncles talk about.

My feet were always dirty. I showered everyday and washed my feet before bed, but I still had such dirty feet. I remember seeing a picture of Juliette Lewis after Kalifornia came out, the movie where she and Brad Pitt fell in love momentarily. Her feet were positively filthy. Her laugh was audible from the pages of Entertainment Weekly as she frolicked in black and white dinginess. Sexy. Sexy. Sexy. I made up my mind after seeing that spread that a woman's most intriguing feature is a pair of dirty feet.

How did they get so dirty? Why doesn't she bother to clean them? What does she plan on doing next?

I get excited just thinking about the answers.

For a long time, I dreamt of becoming a dancer. I can stand on the tips of my toes without special ballet shoes, like Rose in Titanic. But the paintings by Degas, of blond belles in wisps of pink tulle and ribbon, gave me the impression that to be a dancer, one needed beautifully shaped feet, delicate and soft. How I wish I had someone to tell me that a dancer's feet are the most worked tools of her trade, and at the end of the day are neither pretty nor soft.

I also enjoyed volleyball. I was an unexpected force on the court. My diminutive stature positioned me as the setter in a Five-One configuration and I had a crazy floater of a serve. However, five girls towered over me, leaping to block and spike. Any arch I had on the bridge of my foot was flattened in a season.

I love athletic feet.  The network of veins look engineered to perform at extreme levels. That's living life, man.

I'd bet back in the day of hunter/gatherer, people with hooves for feet were favored. Indicated usefulness, perseverance. Or consider the nomadic life. Dainty feet meant someone's carrying you around. Some may argue that it can be regarded as a sign of status. My rebuttal is what is status if others do not believe in it? I'll walk on my own feet, and if I truly have status, it will still be there. But don't deny me the sensation of hot sand on bare soles.

I believe in Reflexology. Foot health is crucial to sustaining physical and spiritual balance. All nerves end in some part of the foot. Paths called meridians extend from toes along major organs and to the brain. Just because my feet resemble a war zone doesn't mean they get no love.

My current husband is the first person who ever said he loved my feet. He says that they are so special to him because they are what bring the rest of me to him. He calls them "Happy Feet" because I wiggle my toes absentmindedly when I am in a good mood.  And it's not like I can't get prettied up.  A couple of hours with Lupe at Kelly's Spa in the Mission Inn and my dawgs transform into candy piggies... perfection in a pair of Fluevogs.

So, however ugly, dirty, tore up, or gargantuan your feet are, just try to keep up with me ;-) and smile, we're going places!

The Death Ritual [DO NOT ATTEMPT! SERIOUSLY, DO NOT ATTEMPT!]]

I've been suffering some major writer's block this past month.  Much of it is due to my anticipation of last night's American debut of the series, Pleasure For Sale.

Now, I can write.

And not about the bloody show.  Let the "tv reviewers" run that flow of energy for awhile.  I want to write about my Sacred Sex Death Ritual.  It bears repeating, I am not providing this information as a guide to explore sacred sex/death.  I am not even implying that this is something I do on the reg.

I merely offer a summary of my first person experience.

The day of the ritual, which was not polishly planned, my sacred sex partner had a vision.  He told me a little bit about it, that it reminded him of me, that it was colorful, exciting, beautiful.  He said it moved over him, through him and then he saw something really good that he was not to reveal to me.

That night, as we progessed into the second hour of the ritual, the heat in the sacred space was dewy, tangible and thick. Moist waves of energy rippled from our bodies, filling the room with the ebb and flow of passionate, lunar sexuality.  I was straddling him, our faces lit by moonglow and sweat, and our eyes locked in pure love.  My juices dripped from my pussy to his nutsack and I felt myself nearing orgasm after an hour of tantric movements.

His left hand caressed my hip, tummy and breast, before hugging the front of my neck.  His right hand moved from my hip to the small of my back, upwards to my right shoulder, resting his forearm on the back of my neck.

I gently exhaled, closed my eyes and felt his lingam at my cervix, the grasp on my throat tighten.

My eyes closed, I saw my first meeting of my sacred lover, walking away from him, my Kiyonari TC-2 in hand, his moto helmet is also off and we smile at each other, until his head turns the opposite direction as I continue to walk backwards.

Suddenly, the viewing screen hyperspeeds.  The whirls of color, emotion, aromas and blurred conversations would make any stranger nauseous, but this was MY life.  I was already oriented.  I was experiencing the phenomenon of "watching my life flash before my eyes"... in reverse.  And from outside of my person.  And super fast.  MACH INFINITY.

The kaleidescope of memories end and I am looking through my eyes again, this time I am in my mom's womb.  I hear nothing but a heavy, bold heartbeat and the lining of her womb glow from a sangria red to valentine red to wild cherry then white until the whole space is filled with white light.

I can make out a massive crowd just at arms length.  But the contrast between the comfy cozy darkness of the womb, to this white vastness makes it difficult for me to see beyond the long-haired male robed in gold and silk.  He looks at me and says, in a voice soaking with impatience, What are you doing here?

I reply, "I came with..." and as I turned my head to see if my lover was behind me, I opened my eyes and his face was aglow in a full smile, his eyes wet with wonder.  Before I am fully aware of what has happened, I say to him, "Where did we go? Are you really here?"

His smile proves the impossible possible and gets bigger as he tells me what it was like from his perspective.

My eyes were somewhat open the entire ritual, with my eyeballs darting here and there, this way and that, rapidly and wildly.  As the oxygen supply to my brain was interrupted, my vaginal muscles convulsed around my partner's lingam, as he describes it, "felt like you were eating me, as if your body was saying, 'if I am going to die, I am going to eat his cock one last time'..." 

The vision that my sacred sex partner had earlier, I feel, is the vision that I had of my life but he did not recognize it as it was the life I had before I met him. This life is over.  Truly is over.  I have been reborn on so many levels, none of which Christian lol... just kidding, no offense to all NOTWers.

Trust.  Massive trust.  In each other.  In ourselves.  In the process.  In our visions.

Love.  For the Higher.

Awareness.  As much as you can handle, plus two notches.

Gratitude.  For all that is truly possible.  And for all that is meaningless.

Humility.  For I am human form learning infinite lessons from other forms of humans being.

Ain't Trying To Fit In; Only Filling In

Or, "You do you; I'm doing what else need be done."

All the grouping and the squading has me wondering, is there any room for The Unique on-line... if not, I'll start a Group -- J/K!! Call it tribal instincts or social nature, just don't call me cuz I guess what I and my like answer to is something very specific to us individually.

No one is doing what I am doing, and yes, my Work is necessary -- if not for anything but for aligning with Absolute clarity. The more I commit to my rareness, the more I align with others equally committed to authentic uniqueness. And we seem to be all suffering under mob mentality.

Even in our own "circles." There is an unspoken order that is preventing or snuffing creative intelligent growth. Sure, we are all connected and we all can express common interests, experiences and bonding. But it seems as long as we can get along within the safety of Our Group, we are impatient with our abilities to connect with those who are unlike us, even if what we would learn or experience through such a connection would further strengthen our group's core.

Swingers -- I am talking to you first. [Sidebar: Swingers have always meant men and women with steady partners who together swing with others like them. It never meant A Single Guy Looking For 2 Pussies At A Time, or A Couple Looking For Another Pussy until friggin MySpace Status Boxes -- No, hold that thought, did that mediocre Jon Favreau flick predate MySpace? W.] So like I was addressing to my FORMER friends with whom I had, um, swung, why is it when I am providing an exclusive service to heighten your swinging experience at a premium, you go jerking off to your hole in the hood whining about how you don't pay for sex? What? All of the fucken sudden, You're Square?? Waste of my sweat, is all that was. Seriously, blog readers, I would swing with a couple back in 2006 and these peeps would be calling and writing and texting me and I'm like, "It's 2007 -- party with me at the CR!" and they keep writing and texting, "When we gonna get together again?" If I had had cooked them a seven course meal for experience and then a year later had opened my very own French restaurant, these dumbasses would probably take over my dining room the first night, order from the Prix Fix menu and stiff me with the check because, what -- they like to eat and I apparently love to cook?

Healers -- ugh, i use that term very very very loosely. I was gonna write some ramble on how you are -- ugh, just go away... or for healing sake, stay out of my way. No, this is unfair and confusing. I am just reacting to how the spiritual centers and sacred sex channels and utility groups are generally unhealthy, disembowelled and impotent -- and when I offer a collaboration, they STILL expect me to function under their bureaucracy. Yeah, you can imagine how far that got to me. This is the reaction to theirs unworthy of response. Oh, and not that you asked, I am a performer. It is the story supported by my authentic performance that heals, not I.

Family -- can't have a "Bird List" without tipping a phalanx to kin. All my life, I've fought with myself just to fit in with you. No mas. And we are all better for it. I am no longer faking for you any interest in the weather -- unless you're Mom, Mama or Papa. I will always be interested in how the sun shines on your silver lining. But to my sibs and my cousins who would say, "If it weren't for the fact that we're blood, we would have no relationship because our lives are so different; we wouldn't know you." Back in the day when I was told this, my response was, "I feel even if we weren't related, the divine nature of God and The Absolute would bring our paths into intersecting, perhaps even synchronizing, with a sublime nod to fate and intelligent destinations." I would be disagreed with. Now, my response is more like, "Ha-ha... we're Not blood after all so lates, bitches." Although I probably wouldn't call them bitches because for me, that's a term of endearment, beeyaatch!

Whores -- I love you for letting me fill in better than any other cluster fuck. And don't worry, you cool savvy chicas, your secrets are safe with me (meaning I wont reveal to anyone how cool and savvy you truly are -- hot and dumb make bank!) I really earned my degree in Sacred Shamanic Sex by filling in what was lacking in the legal brothels. For some mysterious and gracious cause, the other whores allowed me to perform my own style of party -- quite CONTRARY to the style of party professional working girls routinely perform. Normally, girls who attempted what I achieved would have been beaten up, harangued, humiliated or robbed. My relationships with my ranch girlfriends were quite special (and I THANK YOU INDIVIDUALLY AND ALL). You can learn more about how I did this by perusing my blogs for the Sacred Whores and Trick Hos series, Parts 1-7.

Asians -- I have given up completely. Color me Pacific Islander from here on. Not trying to fill in anything Asian anymore except, I guess, my name -- but cmon, Chyna Doll did more to discredit my name than I ever did. (No, I had the name first [1997 -- Madame Cleo's, Vancouver BC {Thank-you, Miss Madison York}].)

Special Interest Friends -- yeah, I am guilty of joining groups and squads, shurr! but i do it with complete disregard for being blocked and kicked off by moderators, so it's cool LOL... j/k, I gain a lot from the sharing of experiences with my special interest friends and as long as those gains are mutual, I observe most of their holidays.

Jayo Grads of 88 -- I think I will send a box of DVDs of Pleasure For Sale to the Reunion Soiree (sic) location. . . and charge $20CND for each copy (pre-order yours by sending $20 to my PayPal account found at http://www.chynapi.com.) Ignore this last part if you are from the Sundance Channel as I am only joking. [Sidebar, our mascot for John Oliver Secondary School was a Jayo Joker. R|B|T|L.]

I invite you to advance the mantra: I Will Not Fit In; I Will Fill In.

Sacred Whores and Trick Hos - Part 3.

The last time I worked in the adult entertainment industry, I gained a lot of perspective, self-esteem and understanding of the mechanics of the macrodimensions as it pertains to us individually. But I didn't make A LOT of money for the services I provided.

This is one of the motivators fueling my return to work, this time at the World Famous Chicken Ranch in Pahrump, NV. I needed to explore the aparatus that affects my self-worth, subtly different from self-esteem. It was like I knew what I deserved, but I couldn't figure out how to communicate that to my clients, falling back on passive behaviors to cope.

I set up a sacred shamanic sex ritual with my partner with the unspoken intent to figure out how I was going to make the most money at the brothel. The ritual was a perfect success. In the course of our performance, it was revealed to me that everytime the conversation or attention turned to me, I would consistently and quickly revert the conversation back to my partner, denying the opportunity to nurture my partners' interest in me, until they lost it completely.

Knowing that it was in my unwillingness to be vulnerable with my clients that was preventing me from engaging in the performance with my highest potential, I stopped beating myself up for not being street smart, as that false criticism was what perpetuated my behaving as a Trick Ho.

And the first night at the World Famous Chicken Ranch, my sacred ritual came to manifest.

The production crew who brought us HBO's TaxiCab Confessions among other keen adult entertainment reality series, is doing a reality series for HBO on the girls at the Chicken Ranch and when they asked me if I would be interested in participating, I didn't have to think about it.

Having refined my nervous system to respond favorably to opportunities to market myself, I was ready to fulfill their needs to capture a true newbie coming to a brothel for the first time. We shot my orientation and then later a three-hour interview which they said they will edit to 5 minutes... good job!

Oh, the doorbell just went so I gotta go line up with all my fine girlfriends here -- wish me luck and lots of bank... i'll keep y'all up to date of my manifestations.

Peace Love Unity Respect

Koan: The First Principle

When one goes to Obaku temple in Kyoto he sees carved over the gate the words "The First Principle". The letters are unusually large, and those who appreciate calligraphy always admire them as being a mastepiece. They were drawn by Kosen two hundred years ago. 

When the master drew them he did so on paper, from which the workmen made the large carving in wood. As Kosen sketched the letters a bold pupil was with him who had made several gallons of ink for the calligraphy and who never failed to criticise his master's work. 

"That is not good," he told Kosen after his first effort. 

"How is this one?" 

"Poor. Worse than before," pronounced the pupil. 

Kosen patiently wrote one sheet after another until eighty-four First Principles had accumulated, still without the approval of the pupil. 

Then when the young man stepped outside for a few moments, Kosen thought: "Now this is my chance to escape his keen eye," and he wrote hurriedly, with a mind free from distraction: "The First Principle." 

"A masterpiece," pronounced the pupil.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why it takes me three times or more to absorb my experiences and digest their lessons is described in this Zen Buddhist koan.

The first time in a new experience, I am most curious and when permitted I have prepared myself, sometime for weeks beforehand, so that I can immerse completely in the new experience. The pitfall here is if I have overprepared, I am susceptible to losing sense of the process by minding the past.

The second time the apparatus, or details of the experience, is activated, I function more analytically, often outside of my skin, observing my performance as objectively as I am able. I collect data and run the risk of editing the data rather than objectively observing, taking me out of the moment and into subjectivity

The third time I run the apparatus, or perhaps the fifth or eighty-fifth time, I reimmerse in the process, this time with the multidimensional perspective of experience and insight. Inevitably, the apparatus becomes obsolete and I perform purely in the process, resulting in organic refinements to my nervous system.

By this method, I activate both my yang and yin, my passion and my clinic. And the resulting human being is both hot and cold, not depending on the activity nor company, but rather the presence of The Observer and whether I have prepared myself as a bold pupil or as a patient master.

In Your Absence [ spoken word ]

Didn't think the last time I was with you
Would be the very last time
Because every moment together
Feels like our very first time

Your body is a universe
I explore with my man in the boat
You got me always on tap and ready to serve
A lot of head for your stein, down my throat

Can't get enough of your kiss
I'm a masochist
Need you to hit it like this
I'm a masochist
Pull my nipples from behind
Take control of my bliss
Slap me up and you'll find
I'm a masochist
I can take what you dish

You send my senses soaring into higher dimensions
Mad skills in able to fulfill my kinky intentions
Playing with my toys of glass
Taking your love up my ass
Every pleasure you're providing is quintessential

Your teeth are what I miss
I'm a masochist
And every knuckle of your fist
I'm a masochist
Next chance I get to spend with you
Taking control of my shit
Make all my fantasies cum true
I'm a masochist
And you gotta handle on this

Put your barrel to my throat
While the butt grinds up my boat
Tie my wrists behind my back
Tie me tight so there's no slack
Send endorphins to my brain
C'mon baby, bring the pain

No hurt compares to this
I'm a masochist
Sore in places I can't reach
I'm a masochist
In your absence, pain's sublime
And there's hope in the midst
We'll be fucking one more time
I'm a masochist
Being without you is bliss

Fortune Cookies - October 26, 2008

CIAO, CHYNA!
ARE THERE ANY GOOD GIRLS LEFT ON MYSPACE?? IM NOT 2 PICKY & I DONT ASK 4 MUCH... ALL I WANT IS A NICE GIRL, THATS CONFIDENT, FUN, AFFECTIONATE, WHO DOESNT PARTY OR DRINK 2 MUCH, DOESNT SMOKE, DOESNT USE DRUGS, GOES 2 CHURCH & HAS SOME KIND OF MORALS, HASNT SLEPT AROUND WITH EVERYONE & THERE DAD, IF U HAVE KIDS THATS FINE AS LONG AS THERES NO BABY DADDY DRAMA & IF THERE IS PLEASE DONT WAISTE MY TIME... LOL IS THAT 2 MUCH???
~ Mr. E, 25/IE


Ciao, Mr. E,
You're looking in the wrong world for all that. Myspace is not meant for good old fashioned unionizing, my friend. There are lots of good girls and they are deathly afraid of myspace losers so they stay away. I'm not a good girl so I figure anywhere I am they are not LOL... but what's wrong with the girls at church? maybe not the church you go to, but you can visit other churches as a "tourist" looking for a story-book romance (a new twist to the foreign affair)... i think it's a sweet idea. or try a pay-site for dating. the best candidates for relationships will pay to access the best candidates for relationships. makes sense, yes?
baci
chy pi


CIAO, CHYNA GIRL!
IN A TWISTED WAY THAT WAS VERY SWEET... LOL I APPRECIATE THE ADVICE & YES IVE MET A FEW GIRLS OF MYSPACE, BUT IT WASNT IN THE SEARCH 4 LOVE... AS FAR AS PAY SITES GO THATS NOT MY THING ID RATHER RUN INTO MISS RIGHT... THE GIRLS @ CHURCH ARE USUALY MARRIED OR BUSTED BUT THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA ON THE CHURCH HOPPING... LMAO... I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR WISDOM & CONCERN... THANKS SO MUCH & GOD BLESS... :)
~ Mr. E in IE

----------------------------


Ciao, Chyna!
About 3 months ago, I hooked up with a man and now I can't seem to get him out of my mind. It was really supposed to be only a one-night fling. The thing is, I don't do married men and I did not know this when we met and since he has been honest with me about it, I find myself willing to make an exception with him. He says his marriage is over but he stays in the house for his kids which makes me love him even more. I know he and his wife are not having sex and i want to keep his interest in me so I am open to being with another girl. The thing is, he says I should find another girl to join us. I just have never done that before and I don't even know how to approach a girl that way. I don't know how my feelings will change if I see him with another woman. I want to tell him I love him before we invite another girl in, but I don't want to be hurt or jealous when I actually find another girlfriend for us. Everytime he calls I get that butterflies and I want so much to say, "I love you." What do you think I should do?
~ Ms. CoCo, 38/Vallejo CA


Ciao, Ms. Coco
i'm really getting a vibe off ur situation

these are some things that you may choose to incorporate in ur processing... i'm not saying what's right or wrong, only sharing ways to "play" with the forces you are attracting on your path

u mention u "don't do married men" and this was supposed to be a one-time fling... perhaps the reason ur feelings are blooming is that ur former belief in urself was proven inaccurate and since uve let that part of you go, the new seed of your personality has all this new room to blossom... it isn't so much that ur feelings are true love as they are true feelings that ur situation interprets as love because uve accepted a color of ur personality that until now u have denied -- so u can focus the love that u feel for him towards u, the one who truly deserves it above all

if he suggests that u r responsible for bringing in another girl, suggest to him that he bring in his wife... that will lighten the pressure on u and open up the opportunity for a natural 3rd to join u, be it someone u meet without his direction or his wife because of his honesty... win-win either way... if u focus on bringing in a 3rd, it won't happen... at least it hasnt worked that way for me

perhaps being with a couple will be more enjoyable and easier to arrange than trying to find another girl

and the last thing i want to leave you with, speaking from current experience so take it with a grain of salt and use only if it helps u, he loves his wife. he will always love his wife and will not leave her as long as he is with you. using this data can help you discipline your feelings so you do not invest more in this affair than you can afford to lose. feel the rush, by all means, and get lost in the flutter in the tummy when you hear his voice, but don't surrender to it. he isn't surrendering to any such feelings for you because he has a responsibility to his wife and the longer you can keep your feelings of love contained, the longer you can enjoy one another... being without him will hurt more than not being able to share your feelings
baci
chy pi


Ciao, Chyna!
WOW! You are deep girl. Thank you. You are wonderful for taking the time to talk with me about it. I was pretty pinned up with thoughts and feelings not really knowing how to process everything. The things you noted about him and his dedication to his wife really made me think. Damn. What am I doing? I want to comment more on the wise things you said. I too want to ready your message a few times and ponder before I respond. I wanted to share with you that last night I went to his softball game with my 20 year son. His wife decided to come and she sat close enough to me for us to conversate. He said he watched both of us from third base and sent a guy over to give me a message that his wife was next to me. About 2 feet away. I already knew though. Talk about stomach moving and grooving. It was strange. He says it was somewhat of a turn on for him. This is all new for me. I stood my ground and remained a lady. She had no idea who I was. But I knew who she was. Strange though. It should always be the other way around. The wife should have the upper hand. He actually showed me where he lived after the game. She left the park before we did. I was surprised that he was willing to show me where his family resides. Relationships are crazy and the adults who create these strange and almost impossible ones, are even crazier. lol

Im going to read your message some more. I loved it. I am feeling you. I know you have been told this before. You should teach or counsel. Something to that degree. You are really good and you give answers to the soul.

Thankyou,
Much love,
CoCo

----------------------------


Ciao, Chyna!
This one is for you -

I know I've been away for awhile, so I sat down for a second and just comptiplated on your smile
- I love your style and how your so different from the rest, I visit your profile a lot for in my mind your smile is the best.
With that all said and done, in you I gain my insight, I wanted you to know your smile makes me smile as my mind takes flight - and transforms me to an EAGLE as my my wings spread and I glide above mother earth, I thank you for your encourging words and letting me see what I am worth.
I extend my arms to embrace thee - with these words I send from a far, may they hold you and keep you safe no matter where your reading this-no matter where you are.

~ john, 35/CA


Ciao, John!
mr. poet, u got me on the floor
never had words of tenderness
directed at me before
friendships may have ended 'les
each party knew the score
but with u i feel no game
in ur openness no shame
that we only know first names
exploring proficient consciousness
in each other, a new door
baci
chy pi