I'm Baaaaaaaa aaack.

It's been a long time...

My absence from this virtual place has not been because there has been nothing to write about.
The opposite is true. Too Much. Well not 'Too', but at the very least 'Much'.
As this is my first post in clearly sometime, I do not want splay it all out now. Instead I will see what percolates to the top, and froths over the edge, and into here.

Adventures of many kinds.
New people came into my life, changing everything from; who I love, how I show it, what I do, and where I do it.
I must thank the Universe and any other responsible Deities for it all... Yay! To change, and the giddy joy it brings. Even the slightly hurty change, it's just like peeling off layers, with something fresh and colourful underneath ( of course , this sometimes takes a heap of self convincing, but I am tenacious, and depression is a drag.)

Let me stick to the present, before I get all misty eyes with recent-history nostalgia.

Presently, I am in a new home. A home filled to the brim with enthusiastic hominess, of mellow evenings and impromptu parties. Of meals cooked with love and domestic camaraderie. After a few weeks of couch surfing, waiting for this room to become available, I am finally ALL in. Funny how I learned to live out of a backpack and not really miss the material clutter of my life. It's back now, albeit still in boxes. I joke about burning it all... It's not really a joke. If I had an incinerator and some matches, I would. Putting it in the rubbish is not good enough. It gets rifled through and strewn across streets, I don't want that.
I want the pleasure of fire.
I will not be satisfied if it were merely dispatched, I want it consumed.
My consumables, consumed.
Eaten up by the Red Mouth of Irretrievability.
Gone.


*Universe, that does not mean burning my house down.
**just had to mention that... After all, strange shit happens.

My new room, is on it's way to being absolutely yummy. I just have to see to the aforementioned boxes, etc.
I built a loft bed in here, so fucking proud of myself I never shut up about it. I am half tempted to go buy a tool-belt, and just meander around the house whilst it hangs from my hips. And there, just a little above my back pocket, a small plaque.
'In constant celebration of my carpentry skills'.

Although I was always aware of power tools being sexy
I just never really entertained the whole, Black'n'Decker'Sex'O'Rama deal as a part of my own allure.
...As something I could pull off, e.g "Roowwr, pass the drywall...Screw... Baby"

Ending the innuendo with a dykolicious, finger-on-the-trigger, drill pose (or hetrolicious, depending on the audience).

Now, however, I think I could... If nudged, in the direction of a jigsaw and some 2 x 4, cause a slight rumble on the DIYsexiness scale.
This is of course all supposition, I need to research this theory, so... if you need something drilled,
screwed,
mounted
or,
umm
...Polished.

Call me :o)