VII & Change.

Une Étoile caresse le sein d'une négresse (peinture-poème))

Une Étoile caresse le sein d’une négresse (peinture-poème))

So, it’s yours truly’s birthday on the 7th of June. Yes, there is the big reveal, the reason I am obssessed with the number!

What I’d like for my birthday, just in case the spirit moves you or whatever;

1. A birthday cake with my name on it. Prefereably a Jamaican rum cake but I’d settle for a sponge joint. My family is non sentimental, to an annoying extent actually. Personal cakes were not really the norm at home, mother would either bake one (but her baking wasn’t rare enough that it felt ‘special’) or pick one up from the nearest Sainsbury’s. Anyways, I’ve a thing for non colourful birthday cakes.

2. Some okra – I have been craving this for like a straight month now. I’d like someone else to make it for me. The chances of me getting it are pretty slim, so there.

3. A Star Caresses the Breast of A Negress ( Painting Poem) by Joan Miro  – I’ve wanted this for the longest, I’d like someone to cop it for me. Wait, that sounds odd. One of my erm, sorta friend?, casually informed me one day how buying me gifts was so tasking because I am hard to please and I have exacting standards. I nodded in agrrement, she was spot on! Back to my family not being sentimental, we ask each other, like yo sis, what do you want for your birthday, we set a budget and present that on your birthday. Done. No fussing and wrapping ish just because it’s the thing to do. So, yeah, this Miro, I’d like someone who feels the need or desire to buy me a gift to buy it with the knowledge that I’d be pleased as punch to receive it.

The above to the side, I am not a ‘birthday’ person as such. I don’t like fuss, I find it all very embarassing. My idea of a dope celebration is having my friends over, smoking, drinking and discussing music, relationships etcetera.

Birthday stuff outta the way.

I hung out with my ex a couple of weeks ago. It was really rather odd. We hadn’t spoken in almost two years and left to me, we prolly never woulda spoken again. I am very proud, (often to my detriment but I can’t help it now, it’s just too deep rooted) anyway, so yeah. We hung out at some Italian joint, it was really awkward to begin with. Small talking and wondering what the deal was. Until I asked, ‘yeah so, what did you want to talk about’? In the end, it was nothing! Apparently the idea was that enough water had passed under the bridge and it was about that time for us to ‘reconnect’.

One thing is plain, we can never be friends but…. Once you care about someone, especially if you’re sure that the person isn’t a bad person (my ex isn’t) and you’re no longer mad about whatever it is that caused the break-up (why did we break up again?) you’ll probably always care about them in a fashion and the least that’ll occur to you if nothing else is to wish them well. I really do wish my ex well. We didn’t pop and I see my own part in that, no matter how ugly it got near the end.

And it’s funny, I’m here wondering if this dry spell is self imposed or just the circumstances I have found myself in, that is to say my bench is empty, 🙂  and somone swears I’m having all this sex…. Like, do I have a doppleganger or is there some outta body ish going on with me that I dunno about? Argh. This is a sensitive subject right now.

It’s 03:15. On deck is, Janet Jackson – That’s The Way Love Goes. This is my joint though, goodness!

Oh, hay fever is totally kicking my arse.


This entry was published on June 6, 2015 at 9:00 am. It’s filed under Random and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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