Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Just One More Speech, Humor Me

I haven't wrote to you in blood for a while. I can't say whether or not you've missed me. But I hope maybe you have just a little.
So I'll cut straight to the point, save you the boring introduction to my speech. Ah yes, another speech about pain. Now I've said it before but I'll remind you again; I punch these little letters in and they string a sentence along for me. Maybe for you too in a roundabout way, but I write to remind my dear naive self, not to preach.
Some cuts never heal. They just don't. Oh they scar up and grow over with proud flesh but they're still there. They're not so jagged or raw and when you bump them it doesn't sting so bad anymore.
Some folks don't get cut so gnarly and they heal quicker. So this is really only for the wretched souls like me that feel everything twice and way too deep.
Yeah sure I knew better a lot of times but it doesn't change what happened or who I was. And I guess if I could change it I never would.
Lies don't ever become the truth and honesty is a rare and treasured thing. In the end you'll only have your story so choose wisely the characters that will get to hold a pen. Remember that some of the greatest stories were written in sloppy handwriting with water marks on the page.
Life is just life. There's ups and there's downs. Your finest moments will be weaved into the same rug as your worst.
You're going to have panic attacks and temper tantrums, sleepless nights and restless days. You're going to be hard up and let go. You'll be bogged down and rained out.
But there's something beautiful in pain. You know, the earth shattering, mind numbing kind. Where you find that your breaking point is really no breaking point at all. It's simply a line that you drew in the dirt, one that meant 'I'll be tough until...now'. And you'll blow through it. Not just subtly step across either, no, you'll leave that line a couple hundred miles behind with a little hurricane in your wake.
You'll still be sucking wind, even if it is out of a crumpled, brown paper sack. You'll keep seeing, even if it is foggy and bleary eyed. You'll forever be tougher than the blue on your skin and the crimson drops dripping from your palm. Tougher than the goodbye and tougher than the betrayal yet to come.
I guess I'm just here saying that it ain't easy. And I understand if you're scared. Lord knows I'm scared. But you're gonna make it. You're gonna be okay. You're not a lost cause and you're gonna make it.

XoXo, Gussie

Saturday, December 17, 2016

2016

It all began cold and wintery, about like it is right now.
I wrote a letter, crumpled it in a tin can and struck a match to burn it down.
I read some old books and lived a vague little surface life.
Anxiously I paced through the crevices of my mind.
My new adventure was dawning and with no time wasted I was packed and moved to a frigid little valley.
Oh I went insane for awhile, took a mental walkabout.
It was exciting really, good for the soul to be a little strung out.
I stumbled sleeplessly through a month of my life, calving 7 to 7's-nights.
It was touch and go for awhile, then I quit the coffee and went on the fight.
One sunny day in May,
I turned my yellow horse out to a snowy pasture blanketing the mountain side.
In waving flowers, beneath a romantic blue sky I took shallow roots to reside.
And there I got ahold of some harder lessons in life.
I dragged my tired ass in and out of bed, worked, played, cried, prayed and bled.
My scattered little mind was lost and found then lost again.
I stumbled upon a couple loves to be lost and still I have no advice to lend.
I taped up rope burns on what should've been feminine hands and buried them deep in denim pockets.
I met a determined set of blue eyes and a fierce set of brown.
We were so dead set on life; there'd be no one could take us down.
Nursed my wounds, lost some weight and lost some sleep.
Learned just how much that I could take, and went rolling in the deep.
For the first time in my life I stood up for myself a time or two.
I spent more than one night staring at the stars, listening to a coyote call and looking for some sort of clue.
I found a bigger smile than I'd ever worn before.
With sore muscles, big dreams and a broke horse beneath me, I could of swore that's what I'd been born for.
Waged war against my own mind and dug a little deeper to see where my breaking point did actually lie.
I lived in a pocket of heaven that God held close in his palm.
He rocked me there as I struggled through the storm.
I rolled my bedroll just as a gypsy would instruct.
I then proceeded to pile my shit into a twenty year old truck.
And now, with a cup of coffee in my hand, I'm telling you my story, my saga of the land.
I ran, I fought, I tried.
And somehow rattling in my bones, I know I'm still chugging on the uphill slope.

Xoxo Gussie



Saturday, October 15, 2016

Dear Soul,You Are Courageous

Wyoming was my cotton candy cloud skies. Kissing me goodnight with every glimmer of the moon.  They were telling me to stay free. Thank God I listened. Thank God you said goodbye. Hello dear world now show me all your beautiful creases and crevices. Take me on some wild adventure and let God guide each moccasined footstep I take. Bring me closer to the edge,  let me just peek over for a second and see the beautiful danger. One last kiss on my lips and I guess it's goodbye for today. Run into you sometime on the other side of the world with a bigger dream in my eyes. You were young and wild and free, oh dear that must be why your soul called to me. Look at these scars and beauty marks. Look at these stars. The blue of that sky was just as deep as my mind and I was so glad to find a match as deep as mine. Look how gorgeous and confusing she was. Rivers running between my toes. Keep running dear heart, keep running. There are gorgeous things on this soil covered earth to see and you are one of them! Now one last whiskey drink and a kiss goodnight. Dear soul with your eyes peeled to this screen; you are courageous and brave, strong and yet so amazingly weak, relish in your excellence. Be free. For God's sake be free.

XOXO, Gussie

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Good Vibes

I was born with a mischievous grin on my little childish lips and I've always been looking for trouble to get in.
The problem is I find it rather easily.
I hope you do too.
Because trouble is wrong.
And unfortunately, wrong usually tastes good.
So live wild and slow, don't let it all slip too fast.
Take a deep breathe and give long kisses.
Sit on the edge of a lake bed and watch each little wave kiss the shore line.
Promise yourself that someday you'll wiggle your toes in real ocean sand.
Grow your hair out too shaggy and rub oil on your temples.
Maybe get a little hippie.
Be so much you that the weak hearts just can't handle it.
Kill the bad vibes.
Wake up too early just to watch the sun wink at your sleepy eyes.
Listen for the morning birds start to call to their lovers.
Just like it calls to your soul.
You're gonna be alright.
Drink too much,
make a story.
Love too much,
you won't regret it.
Kiss too much,
just cause you can.
Feel every last little emotion,
deep and fierce.
Life's short.
Live it.

XoXo Gussie



Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Her and Me

Our braids were half shook free and our horses done in.
They looked over us hobbled out while we sprawled across a bedroll in the sun.
She had her arm laid over my back.
I think we were somewhere between sleep deprived and wired red hot.
I rode in behind her.
I've always been my hero's little shadow.
She'd smile and I'd hang on every word she said.
Always hoping to grow up to be half the woman she's been.
I had a calf at the fire grinning through white teeth and chapped lips.
She was all business looking up at me through blue eyes.
I washed sand and grit out of her hair when her hands were all rope burned and taped up.
I've wiped her tears and hung my arms around her little shoulders.
She's been the whispering voice on the other end of my sobbing late night calls.
We were swapping sweaters and stealing necklaces with big cheesing grins.
She was chewing my ass out behind the barn and I took it with gritted teeth.
I had bruises down my arm and tears in my green eyes,
but those didn't hurt me near as bad as they hurt her.
She has more fire in her than the sun and the most tender heart.
We were horseback and laughing louder than the wind with rawed up cheeks.
I had my arm linked in hers following her around, you know, the way little sisters do.
And whether we knew it or not we were always free, her and me.

XoXo, Gussie

Photo Credit: Kay Shrock

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Silver Rings and Gasoline

Running on high hopes, caffeine and gasoline.
Hands weighed down by silver rings.
I took matches to what paper trail was left of us.
Us? What us.
Sun bleached hair, guess I'm a blondie once again.
Take it for what it is.
Tanned up skin.
Scars and broken hearts, welcome me into your arms.
New books, old stories.
Woke up early, stayed up late.
I thought I'd have more to say.
So here's a good luck wish and kiss for all the big endeavors you may find.
Dream big.
Fear small.

XoXo, Gussie

Saturday, August 13, 2016

"Too wild to last, too rare to die."

I've become an expert in tragic love stories, perhaps I should write a book of my own.
First I would tell about the long kisses and free spirits.
Then about all the places we roamed.
I could go on about how we lived wild and fast; like we'd never know regrets.

I would thank the ones who once held my heart.
Tell them how pretty the stories were that they made for me to write.
I'll say a silent prayer for them and remember the times when we weren't apart.
Funny how dirty the past can bite.

I'd tell you about the one that gave me bruises and the one that gave me a ring.
I could tell you about the wiry ones that had wild and wooly stories to tell.
There was one so fierce, on fire, he all but gave me wings.
And a few that maybe I ought to have told to go to hell.

There were so many horses that danced between our knees.
We were fearless and dumb with only the end story in mind.
Living life like adventure was all we'd ever need.
We wanted to be remembered as some heroic, gypsy kind.

If only the pictures did justice to all the country we saw.
And I wish you could meet all the people we were.
My trusting heart and the late night phone calls.
The big promises, high hopes and ultimate heartbreaking failure.

I'd write about how the most tragic of my love stories is the shortest of them all.
There for a second then gone as hard and fast as the Wyoming wind.
I'd tell you about the bittersweet goodbye.
One last kiss and three silver tears, neither of us could stay in one place long enough to watch them fall.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist.
Dark eyes that smiled into mine.
The day he met me I had dust in my braid.
I guess everything comes in God's time.

I'd tell you all of these stories then remind you I'm just 19.
So this "love" is all new to me.
A beautiful and dangerous thing.
Maybe sometimes no more than a rainy midnight dream.

And finally I would pencil in that Atticus must have known about me when he wrote,
"They were strange in love. Too wild to last, too rare to die."

Xoxo, Gussie