Sovereign Syre is Sans Jupe

It’s been a while since I’ve last updated.  It’s because techology hate human, technology want revenge!

It was bound to happen.  A laptop and two desktop computers completely failed, one on top of the other.  After living on the road for two years though, I found that I’ve developed a very Zen attitude about attachment.  I wasn’t really that stressed about it at all.  There is nothing contained in this slender boxes of silicone and electric current that can’t be replaced.

Maybe we all forget that along the way.

I was rather enjoying a self imposed vacation from too much writing or working on line.  If it couldn’t be done with my iPhone, I just couldn’t really be bothered.  Turns out you can do quite a bit with that little guy.  Then he died too.  I lost all my numbers and pictures and music and stuff.  I guess that should have made me bummed, but it really didn’t.

I’m learning to like the way it feels to randomly wipe away everything I own like so much dust.  When Josh and I were leaving New York City I opted to just throw away most of my stuff.  Living out of suitcases for two years has taught me to be economical if nothing else.  I use the shit out of something, and then I’m ready to let it go.

But vacation time is over.  I’m headlong into new projects.  I’m starring in a my own adult video series and Josh is the exclusive photographer for the studio that is producing it.  All headed under Nica Noelle.  So its time to start fresh, to look forward and to recommit myself to all the things that I care about.

I don’t normally blog about personal things here, I mean the real transformative personal stuff.  Not the philosophy.  Rosebud and I have come to a new place together.  Josh and I bought a dog.  I’m making friends for the first time in years because I know I’m going to be around for awhile.

I will be blogging more now.  I say that a lot I know, but I mean it this time.  There is a lot I want to write about.  Being polyamorous.  Dating a mother with a bunch of small kids.  Chemistry on set.  How self image constantly shifts and changes.

This is one of my favorite poems.  It’s by Belle Waring, from her book Refuge.  I’m filming my first adult movie tomorrow.  This has been running through my head all day like a Buddhist chant.

Reprieve on the Stoop
Belle Waring

If your first memory was the arms of your father
about to chuck you out the window of that catpiss
apartment in Downingtown, you couldn’t dream.
You don’t remember dreams, like when I got
robbed, the scumface
broke in my room while I was alone
asleep and naked and when he left
I woke up
untouched. Now if the sun

abides in these brassy leaves
quivering over my ankles which talk
to you and you ask me to sit
so I do–you and I
we’re both alive and how bad is that–on the stoop
like a girl with her front door key on two feet of green
string around her neck, watching the boys shoot
hoops, how they crouch and leap extending to the rim
and sweat on the sweet lunette of neck over their T-shirts

only now we’re not slinking
home for supper in time to boil a pork dog
and watch dad throw his liquid obituary in mom’s
face. We sit down on the stoop and watch the earth
swing her hips to the next dance hit and the dark
slide his arms around her waist. Listen
–I’m not romantic, baby, but I do
know grace when I see it.