From Shibari to Haiku

Haven't run since the day before the big storm. Thought it was work, and the cold, and holidays, and just plain lazyassedness, and yes, it's all that plus low blood count/anemia AGAIN, discovered by accident when I went in to get a damn Retin-A refill. So a round of inconvenient and pricey tests will be committed, just to find out that I'm anemic because I'm an old lady who doesn't eat much meat.

I'd been feeling this not really unpleasant swoony feeling for a couple weeks, plus the skippy heartbeats, and thinking--This is familiar. Where do I remember this from? And being so spacey I couldn't quite place it. Then I almost blacked out--I was at this club party thing and a guy was doing Japanese ropework, which is really beautiful, so I volunteered to get into the web he was making a couple times. It's not a sex thing for me, it's being part of someone's living, changing work of art, is why I've done this a couple times. But then, as he was putting on some finishing touches, I realized I was about to pass out. And I'd been drinking water, and I'd had dinner, so it was mysterious. It was also embarrassing, but I had to ask this poor dear man to unweave me, which he did with all dispatch and a great deal of solicitude, keeping me talking, or sort of mumbling, until I could lie down. Fact: Every BDSM person I've met has been of the sweetest and most caring disposition--almost too damn nice, if you want to know the truth. Then again, I would never put myself in such a position with anyone who was unkind or impolite (abandon all hope, trolls and frat boys who enter here). I ran three miles the next day, and thought OK, all better, but then it happened again, though of course not nearly under as interesting circumstances, and I feel kind of funny right now, and it takes for fucking ever for a thought longer than a facebook update to percolate to the surface of my blood-starved brain. Brains. Brains. Am I a zombie or a vampire? This is about the level of brains you'll get from me lately. Lifting my hands above elbow level to keyboard feels monumental, yet I just won't shut up, will I? DH puts on an on-demand movie and I fall out, I open a book and I fall out, I try to write and it's all blah blah blah. Energy goes first to my daughter, then to work, then there isn't any more. Poor DH. Usually I have extra to do more. No more. Use fewer words. Haiku. Silly me, forgot/ Bad girls aren't allowed to love/ Husbands or children.

So I'm doing little writing and less running, and my only contact with the interesting parts of the planet, like you, has been virtual. Luckily, BAker is coming in this weekend for a visit. It is nice to have friends with whom one can sit on the couch.

When tests are done I can go on supplements etc. and I'll be rolling again.

Photo: The Thakoon Shibari shift dress--you can get it at Saks for $1,500, or a kindly rope artist might build you one for free.