I am a novelist/screenwriter swimming upstream against the violent currents of life. Fighting the usual obstacles every writer has to confront; rejected queries, distractions, loneliness, editing, writer's block, and NEEDING to have my voice heard.
the sun has fallen the moon refuses to rise loneliness sits beside me wearing a pink carnation mourning the death of my pride fear shaves in my mirror he only has one eye thus, he fails to see the shooting stars in the window no wait, they are the headlights of cars passing by so, I can’t make a wish but if I could….. I’d wish to die in your arms just to hear you whisper goodbye
During the first three weeks of my vacation, I was feeling well, getting stronger everyday. My heart procedure was set for Tuesday, April 14th.
Then, last Monday hit me like a storm. The hours of feeling dizzy, the sensation of my brain throbbing inside my skull, the additional blurred vision, and naseau had all returned.
For five days last week I dealt with this setback.
My blood pressure which during the holidays was reaching for the sky, now reached new lows. My nurse Elena described some of my readings as dangerously low.
On an island isolated from the coronavirus fears infecting the rest of the world, panic broke out after the President’s press conference. Business quickly shut down. Parts of the island are under curfew. A military presence can be felt.
With my sudden change in health, we called Jetblue to return to the United States, but the airports have been locked down. I found myself trapped.
Via speaker phone, my doctor suggested I change the dosage of one of my pills. I started taking a half pill (yesterday). This morning I am feeling a little better. The dizziness almost totally went away. There are still occasional spells.
On Friday to confront my super low blood pressure, Elena drove me into town to sit down and drink a cappuccino. After four months of no coffee it was heavenly.
Airports are scheduled to reopen Saturday, April 4th, the same day of my return flight.
Blogging? I will take this day to day.
Tomorrow, Monday, MAY BE my last post for a few months. I hope everyone drops by to read about something that happened to me last Saturday before my dizzy spells returned.
A very touching gesture from a treasured friend. Thank you Resa. You have no idea how you have caressed my heart and soul. Bless you for your kindness. I will always remember the beauty of your heart. Thank you from the bottom of my heart..
Lonely, as I like to call him, has been resting up in the Dominican Republic. After a couple of heart attacks, he now awaits surgery.
Restless, I went for an alley walk (no problem keeping social distance in the alleys) and was rewarded with 3 fab garage doors. The moment I laid eyes on this painting, I thought of Lonely.
I have no idea what he looks like, but I know how he feels to me. Lonely is an incurable romantic, and that fact is reflected in his well written & passionate poetry. The colours in this art are like all of the colours, from the various moods, in his poems.
I don’t know what the artist meant by the bleeding purple heart, but that’s Lonely, to me. His heart leads his way. It seems like this image, was painted especially…
During a recent conversation, my friend Gabriela asked me to write a poem titled “blushing moon.” Please visit the winner of the Author of the Year (2019) At Spillwords NYC. You will find her inspiring poetry at Short Prose.
Now, here is my response to her prompt.
eyes moist with nostalgia i mourn the unspoken words that occupy so much space between me and you it leads me to ask does a shooting star ever yearn for the places he has never been the way I long for you perhaps, if our lips wandered the lines of your palm it will lead them to our destiny a place for us beneath the blushing moon
Hey, don’t take me seriously. These are pics from the first half of my vacation.
This is the view for one of my favorite restaurants here on the island. It is near the top of a mountain, thus it is appropriately named La Hamaca de Dios (God’s Hammock). The floor slowly rotates to give you 360 degrees view of the town below. (Well, it has to rotate slowly or people may puke in their food).
This little guy turns two today (March 12th). He is a husky and he does plenty of howling. Everyone calls him el perro lobo (the wolf dog). So, I named him Jacob (for all of you Team Jacob fans). I purchased him to share with the single mom next door. He won’t be coming with me to Florida, but he has a family with three kids who will care for him while I am gone.
Axel’s christening went perfectly. This is a pic of proud mom and dad, Pearla and Johan. I do have a funny story to tell you about the baptism. Oh, God. That will have to wait for next Thursday.
You see that circular structure. It is the first time I have ever seen one. That is a small arena for cock-fights. I do not participate (obviously duh) nor condone cock fighting. It is one of the things I dislike about this island.
Made some decor additions to the hut. First the naked ladies bookends. Seriously folks, did you expect something else from me? You can find these ladies in Amazon.
My little typewriter pen/pencil holder. Great for a writing room or desk. Also in Amazon.
My work station (when I am not writing on the beach). There are the five pills (and aspirin to thin my blood, preparing me for April).
I purchased this canvas in Orlando and shipped it with the boxes of food I sent ahead. Haven’t hung it up yet. (I am a terrible handyman ladies). Wanted to add a splash of color to the tones of gray and white.
Finally, that is not the nurse I was promised. My buddy Titi has been known to be a prankster. He promise me she would be young, pretty, and single. Yeah, she is single.
Well, if I look past her moustache and pay five dudes to hold her down while I shave her legs with a lawn mower, then perhaps.
She really is a good nurse. She met with my cooks to go over my diet. She even called my doctor in Florida. Honestly, she is not Mrs. Lonely Author material.
But I wouldn’t say that too loud. She may wrestle me to the ground.
last night I found the poem that you wrote sleeping on my pillow between a lullaby and a dream scribbled on yellowed music sheets with ink from my unopened fantasies your lyrics sang of passion a garden of eternity and jasmines rhymes of me and you watching our lonely silhouettes making love beneath the moon