The 4 C's

It seems that jewellery is problem. Not for me of course. I love anything and everything shiny, and I'm no crow. I know the sparkles like the back of my hand. And it's not even my profession. I have four daughters and I call them Cut, Clarity, Colour and Carat. And I shouldn't be made ashamed to wear them, because they are my own flesh and blood. I have worked hard all my life, and pushed during labour. No I have never robbed a bank. I wouldn't be here writing this if I had. And I'm no gold digger, far from it. There never has been such a thing as a freebie for me. People can come to the conclusions they want simply because they'd love them to be true. But it ain't. Not a word of it. So I have a reputation because I like older guys. Geeze that's no sinning against humanity, I ain't corrupting people who could pass as my dad, although my dad looks 40 years younger than them. Older men are more interesting, they know what they want, and it's not as if I'm picking them p at St. Vincent de Paule's. They are free to come, and free to go. That's the only free thing about it all. Otherwise, it ain't my fault. It takes two, sometimes three, sometimes more. But that should not be of anybody's concern. I'm committing no crime. I choose my life, or rather it chooses me. And the intrinsic need to see my hands, my ears and my neck, among other areas, sparkle has been with me for as long as I can remember. It still is. And I'm not sorry. If you can hear me before you see me, well, then you might as well turn deaf if you don't like it. And if you just cannot appreciate the beauty in it, then it's sour grapes. And it doesn't concern me.

Betty

Seriously I am losing hope. Also seriously, the black hole is changing colour. And also, patience is a virtue I do not possess. Oh yes I can just see you nodding your head, but then again I get confused between virtuous and virtual. And I'm neither. And it's a monologue, and it's ok. I think Betty Boop is all about monologue. She's not like Barbie with her on and off Jim boyfriend. She's on her own, provocative and kinky. She needs a man. And no, as much as I love her I'm not giving her mine, she can find her own. I don't share. I need the glucose, the lactose, the everything-ose, but never the overdose. Not now, not anymore. I try to run away from a rehab which could be virtual but isn't. We'll see. I have Betty on my side, a man on my side and no the two ain't going to be getting it on. Over my dead body.

'If....

''If you're alone, I'll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile. But anytime you need love, I'll just be me.''
That is what has been given to me today, written in the worst handwriting ever, and on a really uncouth scrap of paper bearing a logo I don't even want to hear about anymore. But to bling bling me, it means the world. It means the little big three words which I love hearing... I love you. It also means that maybe it's time to utter the four big little words which I am not used to saying.. I love you too. It means that someone has noticed the fear and the jumpiness coming out of the sleep-induced haze. Sleep which is so unsmooth, bumpier than all the potholes of the island put together. I know it is a phase. Yet that doesn't make it easier. But the paper also means that Big Brother is watching, if he's a brother at all. Which makes it sweeter. People might not be connected to each other by blood, yet the connection is as powerful. It's all the thing called love, not the physical, the emotional. And while I might resist and resist it, it's been there all along. It's time to give in and admit that the bitch is in love, has been for a long time now. It's the transition from bitch to babe. Just have to get better somehow. It's a rocky path. But love makes things happen. And they're finally happening. It's the power of love, corny I know, terribly sentimental, but all happening just the same.