Tuesday, October 19, 2010


Yes, kissing.

What is the appeal? Is there an appeal? For as long as I can remember it has held absolute fascination for me. But not in the way you would think. Everywhere we go, there is some sort of allusion to it. Lipstick, air kisses, chap stick, botox, butterfly kisses, Eskimo kisses, French kisses... and the ever present man's side - the beard / 5 o'clock shadow kiss bringing swollen lips, red cheeks and chins, brush marks, burn marks, rub marks on sensitive skin.

Why do we love this thing?

There was a period in my life when I never kissed. Even when I was sexual, I refused to kiss - rather like prostitutes. It seemed too intimate, too personal. Sex was just ... another activity, like going bowling or seeing a band or visiting an arboretum. It just was something to do to pass the time. But kiss? Oh no. Mind you, that was a long time ago, and I've changed my tune... in case you were wondering.

Why do we love it so?

In particular I wonder about men. So often, we talk about men wanting only one thing, they are in it to get in a woman's pants. And that ... that stereotype seems so at odds with the stereotype we have for women - who hold back sexuality in order to "catch" their man. The old adage of he chases her until she catches him.

But really, do men even like kissing? Women fantasize about it, practice on our pillows, our hands, our arms, our breasts, we blow kisses in the mirrors, and we look to make kissable, pouty lips with that cherry lip gloss. But what of men? Do they fantasize about combing their fingers through a woman's hair, about pulling her close, about rubbing her soft skin against his rough beard? Do men anticipate that moment or is it just another tool in his arsenal for getting to the goods? Is it just a necessary step that he *has to* do because he can't get to *his* goal unless he pays the price?

Are we talking about the same act? Come on, men. 'fess up... then pucker up!

*photo is from the internet - (Washington Park, Albany, 2007)

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

When 2 + 2 = 5

Life is popping along as it will. Here I am spouting off words like it matters. I do love my blog, though. I love having a "journal" type of spot, and I love that on occasion I get a love letter from a friend reminding me of why I do this... to stimulate conversation, to learn from others, to share experiences, strength, and hope. (Not to be to Anon Anon about things, but if the shoe fits, wear it until the heel breaks off!)

There is something glorious about combining two very different things into a wonderful whole. There is a song Gin and Juice by Snoop Dogg that I've heard by this crazy little bluegrass group in ... heaven knows where (the Gourds) The combining of rap and bluegrass is so bizarre that it's groovy! I love that. Irish Ceili in Seoul. German beer and Szechuan, Bobby McFerrin and Chick Corea, Barry White and Pavarotti, Sunshine and rain... ohhh look at the pretty rainbow!

It is in the combining of two different, disparate things that we magically create something new - sometimes dreadful, sometimes amazing. The process is often worth the mistake even when fireworks are not the result.

Happy everything!

And here's the URL for the Snoop Dogg song by the Gourds. Who made this crazy video?
If you can't use the link, just copy and paste.