"Every man is a damned fool for at least five minutes every day. Wisdom

consists in not exceeding the limit." -Elbert Hubbard, author, editor, printer (1856-1915)

Just thought it was an interesting quote, is all. Hee hee. My GOD! I'm going to have to work out some kind of schedule that will ensure that I update more often than I am. This is killing me! The holidays were great, I'm getting over the friggin' plague, but I'm up and about and already playing with all of the makeup my lovely sisters gave me. Mmm, Lancome, I can taste the sweet gloss on my lips right now. Because it's flavored, of course, not because I like the taste of lipstick. You got me.

Okay, my recent escapades involve a woman I'll refer to as Caska. Caska Montiago, to be exact. You're familiar with a little Poe, aren't you? And I'm not referring to the beautiful musician, now, but the dark and mysterious poet and writer. Okay, you're with me. Sometimes, things seem to be going in order, one thing leads to another and we think that we're following the path that's been paved just for us. Then again, sometimes we discover that this is some evil trick played on us by the Universe, to see if we're truly paying attention. I wouldn't have opened the pretty box if I knew it was an heirloom of Pandora's. But fuck (not "butt-fuck", we've been through this), that's exactly what I did this time.

Her name, Caska. I knew her four years ago, she was the brilliant woman who came up with the idea of the tripod in the first place, you know, that balance of life that I'm always referring to, the tripod. I was young, she was older, I looked up to her, I learned from her, I greedily sucked up every drop of wisdom and experience she dripped over me, and then I had my fill. She started to bring me items, said she knew I was psychic, wanted me to tell her what to do with her life, what did I "see". It became too much for me. My parents were separating, I was moving to LA, I had no more time or energy to offer our growing friendship, and told her as much. I thanked her for being my "spirtual guide", and I moved on with my hectic life.

Four years went by. Last week, I was packing my things and I came across her name, her old number, happened by her old place, wondered if I should try to get a hold of her, only pleasant memories of her existed in my mind. Then, just a few days ago, I walked into the grocery store and there she was. "Caska!" I called out. She turned, saw me, made some sort of joyful exclamation, and ran to me, catching me in a warm embrace. Yes, this is right, I thought. I told her I wasn't surprised, I had come across her name and was expecting to see her.

She freaked out, told everyone in the store (I fucking mean it, EVERYONE) that we were old friends, that we were meant to run into each other. I was caught up in a whirlwind of introductions (apparently, she frequents this particular grocery store). We exchanged numbers and I was on my way, but not before she pinpointed a time and place that we would catch-up over a bottle of wine... I thought it was a great idea. But I didn't know at the time exactly what I was getting into.

Caska Montiago, cont'd in next entry...oh, and by the way, don't go correcting me with the correctly spelled title to Poe's story... I know. This is just a play on words based on the people involved. Great! Now, onto the next!

-Barbarella

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