Category Archives: NKH

NEW KISS HORIZON Book Excellence Award Finalist

It gives me greaat pleasure to announce that my romance Novel, NEw Kiss Horizon” has een nominated fror a Book Excelleence Award!

 

 

I always knew there was somthing to the romance behind these lovers, Vashti Astapad Warren and Thomas Robert Higginson!  And this finalist notification is a form of proof.

 

Thomas Robert and Vasti  rock!  

 

 

 

Thomas Robert, the character pictured here in proxy form,  always liked Vashti with pink hair (as did the real man behind him) 

 

If you have not yet read this book, perhaps now there is even more reason to do so!

and here are some ways that you might acquire this sizzling book:

 

“New Kiss Horizon” my 13th book (a romance novel ) links:

NEW KISS HORIZON LINKS:

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss/dp/1540584496

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss-ebook/dp/B01N1K0PLC

Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:

https://www.amazon.com/Thylias-Moss/e/B001JSBOQQ

Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book):

Vashti’s blog URL:

https://vashtisblog.wordpress.com/

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New Kiss Horizon Review

It really pleases me that one of my books, New Kiss Horizon” has received such a great review:

 

 

Link to a great review of “New Kiss Horizon”

4CC5B7BC-B54C-4A36-9EED-FD17BE50E041.JPG

Here: http://mythicalbooks.blogspot.com/2017/05/loving-her-in-his-dreams-new-kiss.html?spref=tw&m=1

 

 

Saturday, May 13, 2017

loving her in his dreams – New Kiss Horizon: A Romance by Thylias Moss

18++ 

This book sizzles. […] And the language of poetry is beautiful, reminiscent of Song of Solomon.” A. Customer, Amazon

Description:

Published: November 2016

Vashti, a sexually repressed 60-year-old female poet finally finds the courage to divorce a man she married as a teenager, a man jealous of her looks, of the very equipment that makes her so appealing and this freedom allows 66-year-old poet Thomas Robert Higginson to act upon the fantasy he’s had for thirty years of loving Vashti, actually holding her, making love to her, a fantasy he acts out by visiting a store of Vashti, his fantasy come to life, and of course, entering that store is really a sexual act, for he’s entering Vashti, even if just in his head that somehow Vashti seems to control for she has awareness of all of these Dream Baby Tienda events.

Novel begins with Vashti revealing her past to her friend Thomas Robert Higginson who continues to enjoy his fantasy at the Dream Baby Tienda; he’s been interested in Vashti and loving her in his dreams, in his fantasies for 25 years. Every aisle has forms of Vashti on the shelf. He feels a little guilty because he’s married, but Vashti is thoroughly irresistible to him. He tries not to give in to his fantasy’s demands, but he fails, realizing the attraction he feels is much too powerful to deny.

He invites Vashti to be in a movie, and he wants to begin making love to her right then, but he doesn’t, as both of them are married, but he wants to anyway; he finds Vashti to be the most beautiful woman in the world. He comes to the university where she teaches, and Vashti is in the audience, and Vashti loves how Thomas Robert Higginson performs, but Vashti is married to a non-poet spouse, because beautiful Vashti was raped and became pregnant from that when she was fifteen. Then Vashti meets the man she marries three weeks after the abortion… He is not sensitive to what has happened to her; she is 16 when they meet, Wesley is 23, not a good match at all. Thomas is a much better man for Vashti; he always knew this, but takes a little longer for Thomas to charm Vashti twenty-five years later when his weight gain worries him that he will not be attractive to his fantasy woman.

During the twenty-five years since they meet in person for Thomas’s movie, Vashti marries an infertile man, and almost doesn’t get to have a child of her own. Vashti’s spouse cannot accept his infertility, and refuses to accept a sperm donor, but Vashti insists on having a child.

And ultimately this child more like Vashti than anyone else in the world causes the dissolution of a marriage that never should have happened, but Vashti’s mother was only too glad to get Vashti married off, and since Wesley was interested, Vashti’s mother agrees to the teenage Vashti marrying a man much too old for her. Now that Vashti is free, and Thomas Robert Higginson’s wife has died, Thomas and Vashti become friends on Facebook, and as soon as Vashti changes her relationship status, he contacts Vashti, as he has during those years since the filming of his movie in 1988, as friends not as lovers.

Once Vashti finally divorces in 2013, this sexually repressed woman tries online dating and is extremely disappointed, so when Thomas contacts her to begin dating, Vashti is occupied with a man from an online service, and Thomas has to wait a little longer. But Vashti soon realizes what Thomas wants, and Vashti is fascinated, although this man has gained a lot of weight, at least thirty pounds. But after 25 years, this man and woman meet, and Thomas is delighted, but Vashti fears that she cannot compete with the fantasy version of herself, and they agree to meet in Chicago, once Thomas is convinced that she will become not involved with the man from online dating, and when they meet, there’s instant attraction, and Thomas makes good on everything he has promised Vashti. Vashti has the best intimacy, best kisses, best sex of her life.

IMG_3739
About the author:
Thylias Moss is a multiracial maker, an award-wining poet, recipient of a MacArthur “Genius” grant, and was twice nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award in poetry.

And here:

http://mythicalbooks.blogspot.com/2017/05/loving-her-in-his-dreams-new-kiss.html?spref=tw&m=1

 

What Amazon Customer says about Nw Kiss Horizon on Amazon:

This review is from: New Kiss Horizon (Kindle Edition)” On Amazon.com:

This book sizzles. A must read for anyone who has ever been in love. The anticipation, longing, writing to the beloved then meeting face to face keeps the reader enthralled and wanting more. But Moss doesn’t leave you hanging, oh no, she carries the story to fulfillment and happiness that only two people who love can find in each other. And the language of poetry is beautiful, reminiscent of “Song of Solomon.” (by Toni Morrison)

SongOfSolomon-1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Facebook response to this review:

“This is incredible to me; a comparison of “New Kiss Horizon” a book I love for so many reasons with “Song of Solomon” by Toni Morrison, a book I also love.

To get to Oberlin College from Cleveland, I had to drive through Lorain, Ohio where Toni Morrison was born and I had the pleasure of meeting her at Oberlin, even adapted “Song of Solomon” into a play I titled “The Third Beer” (I have not a single copy of that play),

but to be told that my little book is reminiscent of “Song of Solomon”, a book I admire so much!

and that was was so crucial to a well, workshop I was asked to convene at the University of New Hampshire (in the early 1980s) when black females had no dates, rejected by the black males who were athletes and had their pick of multiple white women, so I shared the passage where Hagar dies for want of silky, wavy hair color of a penny, the right clothes and creamy skin; the black males all laughed and the black females cried, including a biracial young woman with a barely brown complexion, but she had short, kinky nappy hair and was rejected.

Not me however.

(I had the hair Milkman would have liked):

 

TUESDAY AFTER MATH-04

There was nothing I could do as the workshop made clear that these intelligent females, most of whom were majoring in hotel management as UNH was the hub for that major in New England,

and for my book to be compared with a book that has meant so much to me is the icing on every cake.

There are no words for how deeply I am gratified.”

 

And maybe Thomas Robert Higginson likes this also.

 

 

I hope so, considering how much Vashti has been falling in love with  him,

and I like the real man on whom Thomas Robert Higginson is based; well, (I believe ) I love him.

 

Well, Love Song #1 says it all and then some.

Love Song #1 MeShell NDegéocello”:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVU0f6h2Puo

How about twice to double the pleasure?

Love Song #1 MeShell NDegéocello”:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVU0f6h2Puo

 

 

My Birthday weekend ((me ∞ me))

 On Monday, I will turn 63!  –provided I live that long, and I really hope I do.  It has taken 63 years to get to this point, and I will revive a custom began when I was about ten, of recording my thoughts as I walked up and down my street with a clipboard, my thoughts for the last day that I am a particular age.  

I typed most of these crudely on an old Smith & Corona typewriter –long gone, nit even a phto of th typewriter I had, on which I wrote many short stories, including, title may be stated incorrrectly, “Great Catastrophe of the Mysterious Clock/Watch? ”  –sounds like the language I would have used back then.  

 

Different this year, because I will ponder my last day as I remain in love, really for the first time in my life.  I know I was married for forty years, but I have never been in love like this.  Say what you will, but I am delighted to finally love ths way.  Means so very much to me, a lifetime, you know.  

What I cannot say is that he loves me as I love him –that would be perfect wouldn’t it?

I remain confident that the day is coming when I will be able to say that.  I just feel this; no, it is not a feeling like the supected presence of a ghost; there is nothing at all hostile here, more more like a calming breeze, he wrote to me:

“Sitting by a calming fountain in Kiev, just after the bells of St Sofia rocked the plaza — real rocks of noise

I can say a few things: how crazy are you? am I? we?

Pretty crazy, I’d say!

You are a Go For It All woman finally free

You constantly inspire, and I wish to too

Standing off to the side and cheering you on

Hey! Watch out for that banana!

The Mnemonic of Yr Palindrome

TMnOYP” 

 He also wrote a poem for me from which my Dream Baby nickname derives, and his : Higgs or Higginson, for the most remarkable thing, the Higgs boson! –explains why partcicles have mass, could not have mass without them, and please allow me to talk about right here, the mass of his kiss, and the necessity of writing an entire book about his kiss, “New Kiss Horizon” 

 

new-kiss-horizon

There can never be a better love than this! –never!  –all I can say is that I always want him in my life.  I have enjoyed an entire new life because of him.  I do not know how to thank a man for doing what he has done in my life, but he must be thanked.  I can’t allow what he has done to  pass along without recognition, and even if I can’t reveal his name, I assure you that he is real, the gravity of Higginson is very well known to me. I feel his profound gravity most of the time, I am a celestial body always leaning to him, never out of his orbit, never, the cream in his coffee, and that fine journey down his throat, me a bulge in his neck as I continue my warming track descending through him, all six feet of him, the very aroma of me even bursting throgh his blue eyes like dew, drops of his Dakar cologne manufactured just by thinking of him, and what it meant that the first time we kissed was after he had waited 25 years just to kiss me?  

Can you comprehend just what a kiss that was, is?

 

I said to him, “You like my Forked pink Facebook hair, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. Fishing lines, every strand; that’s part of how you got me; you know that, don’t you?” (He always liked that hair, video still from my youtube video” “Forkergirl Particle Pops a Beaded multiverse):

 

pink-hair-forker-gyrl
next time, I will bite some beads in your  presence, Thomas Robert Higginson

“What I really like is how you get the sexy science; you understand Forkergirl Particle Pops a Beaded Multiverse —and you fill every universe in this multiverse, my multiverse is all you. I know that you like the forking me on Facebook where we reconnect, and you like even better the theory behind her, that pink hair just like those pink flowers I love so much, especially Clitoria, you like that flower too” — that flower that is part of this tiny body, Thomas, and you kiss it on the iPhone when we talk, daily now leading up to when you can kiss it in person. And I kiss you on the screen also…”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

 

“Vash, you’re not alone. You do have me. Don’t forget that. You do have me. I am not lying to you. You really do have me. I mean that. You do have me. And I love that video. Helped me get to know what you’re all about; helped me understand the child-woman you are. It’s not just your size, if that’s what you’re thinking… It’s your way of engaging with the world despite all you’ve been through. You don’t know how sexy your attitude is. If there aren’t hundreds of men beating down your door, I’d be surprised. I can’t be the only one, despite what you say, PSOG aside; he doesn’t count, to be expected from your first taste of much needed freedom. Other men have to see what I see; other men must want you too, Vash. Even dead men if you pass over their graves would live again just to want you, Vash. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. You’re making me say things I should probably keep to myself. But Vash, what I feel is so powerful, and that’s because of you. Vash, my feelings have been growing for 25 years

“These are not sudden or shallow. They have powerful roots. What I feel is deep, deeper than anything I have ever known. And it’s for you, Vash; all for you.”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

NKH COPYRIGHT NOTICE:

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

 

“It takes time?” he said, and I quite agree. Took me 63 years to really be in love, and I just hope that he doesn’t mind that I feel about him as I do, for if he doesn’t, then my life really will be shaping into the “terrific” life that he also told me was in front of me, not that I can’t have a terrific life without him, but now that I  love like this, I don’t ever want to love another way.

I can’t say for sure, but I am willing to wager that there are very few men loved the way that  I love him, and even fewer men can say that I love them; as only he can say that.  

There are times that I feel rather foolish loving like this for the first time in my life –I am no longer young, but I feel so young thinking of him, and I no longer worry that he may not be worthy of a love like this, because he is; my heart tells me so.  I can’t explain it, but as each day goes by, I love him even more.  

 

I so want to post a photo of the two of us, but I am not so sure that he wouldn’t mind.  Oh I could post photos of him alone, and I think he would like that even less, because I would be posting them without his acknowledgement of that, or just my simply telling him, and he is such a private man, although he is a poet like me, so a few more pics of me; I know it is all right to use these.  

 

He called my the “Cream in his coffee“, so here I am:

Cream in my coffee

Cup of latte I had at B’ 24’s in Ypsilanti

now the song” “You’re the Cream in My Coffee”:

and here’s his poem:

You are the corner of my eye:

          Thomas Robert Higginson

                (for THYlias Moss)

You are my rent-a-poem

You are love jungle — Yoyo, hula hoop!

You are my closing costs

My plasma vibrator my single malt

You? You are my Tampa manatee

You are my Occupy

You are an eucalyptus octopus

And a haircut on an autumn day

Also submarine. Surreality check.

You you…! You YOU you!

That’s who. The Temple of Shenanigans,

AKA Shenanigan Temple.

The complete works. The leftovers.

You are what I’ve been waiting for

And now I’ll never wait anymore.

Dream baby, you are, and indefatigable,

That, too. And you are the cream in my coffee,

And you are the one, and you are my everything,

And you are everything I could hope for.

And still you are more, and still you keep coming,

You are coming like a river, like a torrent,

Like an all day-lollipop where every day is today.

You are the Castle of Doubt on the Plain of Forgetfulness.

You are one more and able to laugh it off.

My sunshine, that’s what you are.

A rocking chair and a band-aid. Violin castanets.

An elusive perfume. You are all history. You are

Breakfast and you are on your way and all

I can do is list, name, and hand out passports.

Because you are who you are in a way that is all

Your way and which, as a poet trying to set it down,

Failure, I am a failure in that you will always be

Something to me both bedrock and ineluctable,

A passion of opposition and an unchecked probity

Of Probability and yet a chemical formula not to be

Tested. The Higgs bosun, that’s it exactly. A gluon.

A ramshackle melody. A forgotten memory that

Never happened and when all is said and done,

Actually nothing was said and nothing was done.

That’s why I keep writing endlessly penning, because that’s

Who you are and when I stop, Surprise, you are

The surprise, you are the inching to the summit,

The chocolate razor, the tadpole’s pole and the

Gate to the Fields of the Lord. I sing you praises and

The answer is more like a light fog saxophone, a

Kingdom Come revelation, a hunch that blossoms

To birth a new species. An appointment for lunch.

Some nectar in a tube, a pillow. Like the new language you

Are, if I could write that I would, you in a race car,

A pendulum, a fire tower, a blimp. A pothole, narcissus,

An a capella cantabile, a big bucket of milk. I can run alongside

You but can’t keep up with you, your tapdancing

Shadow, your clothing made of earth and spit. But I know you

And when you wish me Happy Birthday I trade it for yours,

You not growing old, you everlasting, you infinity you.

–It is my birthday weekend, you know. 

And now some photos of me age 62 –for just 2 more days!

I am wearing his hat; it’s in the drawer of this desk, right beside me.  The photos of “Higginson” street signs were captured by Nancy Boutiler, who told me this about them: “I thought you’d like this photo that I took in Salem, MA
As you probably know the Rev. Francis Higginson joined the Massachusetts Bay Company to form a “plantation” in New England.
Higginson led a group of about 350 Puritan settlers (including many of his own congregation) on six ships from England to New England.
His son, Rev. John Higginson was a leading investigator in the Salem witch trials of 1692–1693…oh, and there were others…
Enjoy the pics.”

Dream Baby” – “Cream in My Coffee”  –two of my nicknames from his poem’ black dress is my “Dream Baby” dress, I wore on my last date with him at Vermilion in Chicago.  Had Duck Vindaloo Arepas,  Sri Lankan Whole Fish, Gin and pomegranate martinis , my fisrt drink of alcohol.. made me sick.  At the time he didn’t believe me, but when I saw him in Minneapolis,  he restricted me to one drink, knowing what had happened and how I had been honest when I told him I had never tasted anything stronger than Chardonnay.

Some of my photos that I know are some of his favorites; he, probably, like any other normal man likes all of them, and the natural hair, no weave, no extensions, no relaxer –he can run his fingers through it without fear, just under 5 feet tall, and just under a hundred pounds without ever dieting.    He’s a foot taller than me and about double my weight. Sure wish I could post that pic of us; it is wonderful! –you’ll have to take my word on that, but then again, for my birthday?  I turn 63 only once, Forgive me, please if it is wrong to display this, but no name.  Just a man , no “THE” man I love….  Don’t get me wrong, nothing makes me happier than to care about him, but to touch him, to kiss him to b kissed by him –I wrote a whol ebook about his kiss, oh yes! –his kiss is that spectacular, just look at him –I wrote New Kiss Horizon wbou what kissing him is like, in which Thomas Robert Higginson says this: “

“Vashti doesn’t know that when I first saw a book of hers with her face all over the cover, I was instantly drawn to it. Her book was in the window of a small bookshop, a new poet, but poets don’t tend to look like that, oozing such sexiness, her lips parted in such an exciting way; I immediately imagined what could slip between those soft pink lips. Me in her mouth, in and out, as natural and as rhythmic as breathing. Vashti kissing me between my thighs; my hand in her hair, pulling it a little, wrapping those long strands around my fingers, burying my nose in her hair.

What a dream baby she is; I knew that with just one look. I got ideas for my fantasy right then, a store with only Vashti products.

Right then and there, I made it a point in my heart, although I was married, to get to know her better, to be able to hold her; maybe pure lust, but I felt it instantly. What a sexy woman she is, and aging in a way nothing else does, as if her clock moves in reverse. She looks more stunning and younger all the time.
I just stare at the picture of her in my mind, as I always do anyway.

“Almost too young for me, and I no longer look my best; I have put on so much weight, but she talks to me as if she doesn’t see it, but how can she not? I know it’s there, and I don’t like it.”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

The first real kiss from him was so, so special! –in the taxi from O’Hare to the Mandarin Moon  hotel:

“—we sit beside each other, and you can wait no longer… You pull me as close to you as possible, as if I’m already part of your body…
—Now I’m going to do what should have happened to you years ago! But I’m glad I get to be the first man to kiss you this way. I pull you to me —gently — I don’t have to ask you about this; we’re alone on this back seat; the show is on my road now, my desire has built so much that I cannot wait a moment longer; I will not wait a moment longer! —why should I? —
—we could not be closer —
Every fiber of your coat is now part of me; and the scratchiness of the wool is just the texture I crave! —I don’t want anything about you soft; just some of the things you whisper in my ear, and even then, I’m hoping for some edge.
I can’t believe the strength, the possessiveness of the pull. Strong, but I am not forced. Powerful, but I am not forced.
I willingly allow myself to be pulled into you. I no longer have to wonder how to negotiate the transition from friend to lover as that transition is already in progress — so smooth; I can feel myself  twirling and spinning in your arms (fantasy galaxy that I also am)… So easy to imagine dancing with you… You want me, Thomas, you claim me, Mr. Higginson. You don’t say anything, just pull me closer and closer as you take me to the “Mr. Thomas Higginson School of Kissing.” I’ve never been kissed like this… I have never kissed a man the way that I kiss you…
I remember when you said this to me and wrote me this just a couple of days ago, and seemed impossible then, but not at all now:
First,
Baby
I can’t wait
To taste your kiss again
and again
Kiss kissing kisses
Slow you lead your
Beautiful tender lips
Just to rest there
So quiveringly touching
The moment itself
Kissing
 
That is exactly how you’re kissing me… and I cannot resist you. I don’t want to.
You kiss me and I kiss you back —I can’t help it! —not what I planned; I had no idea that you would kiss me this way —as if this is the only kiss you get to have for all your remaining life, and you want to make it last, make it count; best kiss on every scale of measurement, I have to quickly learn how to kiss you —you already know how to kiss me, how to make me feel that no man has ever kissed me before. You want me to feel the depth of these kisses… Depth charge kissing, Fuse-ignition. I’m surrendering to you already… I can’t help it…”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

NKH COPYRIGHT NOTICE:

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

 

 

Thylias Moss (Dream Baby) and Bob Holman (Dream Lover

Dream date with a dream man, as we stand on a bridge forever connecting us, Chicago, 2014

If you have not yet been kised the way that this man and I kissed, making me forget 40 years of marriage with a single kiss, making me feel orgasmic just from kissing him  –just wait util we got in room 304 of he Mandarin Moon —you better believe that I plan to be in that room with him again.


Thomas, I hope you will always cherish this picture of us; it is hre in honor of my birthday, and how you say I am “not getting older, me everlasting, me infinity me: (me ∞ me)

I invited him the fist time, and now, it’s his turn to invite me.  I will definiteely  come     there.

He will be 69 on 10 March; I will not forget. I never do. He is too important to me to ever forget his birthday.

______________

Read all about it in “New Kiss Horizon” on sale now!

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

new-kiss-horizon

More info available here:

 

“New Kiss Horizon” my 13th book (a romance) links:

NEW KISS HORIZON LINKS:

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss/dp/1540584496

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss-ebook/dp/B01N1K0PLC

Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:

https://www.amazon.com/Thylias-Moss/e/B001JSBOQQ

Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book):

Vashti’s blog URL:

https://vashtisblog.wordpress.com/

Significant New Kiss Horizon links!

Here are significant links to “New Kiss Horizon” web locations:

Cover of NKH

NEW KISS HORIZON LINKS:

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss/dp/1540584496

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss-ebook/dp/B01N1K0PLC

Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:

https://www.amazon.com/Thylias-Moss/e/B001JSBOQQ

Link to Vashti’s Blog:

https://vashtisblog.wordpress.com/

Buy and read this sensual little number please…

New Agent!

Not much to say, except that I will be talking tomorrow with a new possible agent for my romance novel.

 

Third time is a charm,

 

or so I’ve been told.  Ever hopeful, that’s me, Thylias Moss, a regular hopeless romantic.

 

 

NEW CREATE SPACE PROJECTS

Good Sunday morning!

For a change, I do not plan to write about the shambles of my love life; will not be fixed today anyway, and I can’t say when, but it will be and is.

Not much has changed; I am still in love with a wonderful sman; I like everything about him way too much, no one can be as good as he is, but he will have to deal with the man in the mirror.

but too  much is beautful for me to disrupt or destroy that beauty.  That it attained a pinnacle of loving expression will always be true.   Nothing can ever change that.

Enough said.

I have embarked upon, for 2 writing projects quite dear to me, Amazon’s CreateSpace, a self-publishing tool that will allow books made with it to instantly be sold wherever Amazon has a footprint, and where doesn’t that corporate giant tread?

The first project is a group of collaborative poems written with a friend, Aneurysm Of the Firmament (that much I’m sure of); a friend of mine, a lover also, the very best, you will have to take my word on that (or read the book I had to write after beign with him with him! Thoroughly Transforming!

New Kiss Horizon with Book Excellence badge

 

Thomas Robert Higginson (a pseudonymn) , right beside me here, and may it always be this way.

Thylias Moss (Dream Baby) and Bob Holman (Dream Lover

Dream date with a dream man, as we stand on a bridge forever connecting us, Chicago, 2014

That collection is finished; just waiting for the sample of the book to  arrive, and  if I like it, then into production; already has its ISBN number, so this book is real, and I am delighted by that.

Unfortunately, the sample isn’t due to arrive at my Ypsilanti house until the day before my mother’s 87th birthday.  If I do not, as I would like, get to go there, I have already planned to call her and sing to her; she always likes that –mothers you know.  

I am so eager to see that little chapbook, that contains two poems from “Wannabe“, with permission from the publisher (who I would prefer not to name), but…  Yeah, and my so-called comprehensive book with a blurb from Harold Bloom in the most prominent position possible on the jacket, extolling my stature as a writer of significance, except that he is referring to a New & Selected not even in “Wannabe” –I am in Harold Bloom’s “Western Canon” for “Small Congregations” –the only collection of my previously published collections of poetry not included in “Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities’ Red Dress Code” –well, mistakes happen, I know quite well.  

Wannabe & Small Congregation

together these 2 New and Selected collections contain the work needed to b single comprehensive collection

But some mistakes make possible wonders that could not be possible any other way, and for that reason, I am glad for what looking back could be seen as mistakes but I am not looking at mistakes today; I am looking at only opportunities which is what CreateSpace is.

So while I wait for the collection of poems written with my friend Thomas Robert Higginson (I may need to do a drawing of him; I assure you I can, all just from memory–what a great idea; I have never attempted a simple pencil sketch of him… Wonder how the pencil will feel in my hands drawing the man I so want to be with?  –a Thomas Robert Higginson comic book? graphic novel “graphic” as defined in multiple ways –I leap too far ahead; I haven’t even drawn the man, and the idea is forming even as I type this, but obviously the idea really appeals to me…  But to have him form right on the paper in graphite from what will become my favorite pencil after I draw him? and even the two of us together, using illustrations from, I don’t know, the Kama Sutra, as a guide, not that I’ll need one.    Too much heaven!  –and I am a little bit skeptical about him possibly seeing this; after all, we are “just” friends, and I shouldn’t permit myself to think this way  about a friend, should I? 

Leap, leap,  leap (into his arms –I can’t help it)

and wouldn’t you know, the Angel of the Lord returned to visit my mother who just called to warn me to make no decisions at this time; to tell me she was afraid, the spirit told her this, that now is not the time to try to sell a home because the republicans are about to seize power, although she detests Trump, yet doesn’t feel Hillary to be any better because she is a woman; she said for me to follow God, and pray for what I really want, and I did, but it’s not what she thinks it is.  (I prayed to have him, of course).

My mother has no idea how involved I’ve become with a certain man, and when I tried to tell her about him, just his name; he had wanted her to be in a movie about poetry he produced long ago, but she wouldn’t, preferring that no one know she worked as a maid; she has no idea how often I have included that info in my writing, and more recently her puritanical views about sex.  She would be shocked to ever know what I’ve done, and enjoyed with That Most Delightful Man. She told me then that the only man I need is “Jesus”, so when I first wrote about being with him in Chicago, I called him:

“Jésus” and that way, if she ever saw it, I was in fact talking about 

Jesus

Jésus

in the story “Mongongo Drupe” published in Callaloo.

(read most of that story here: “Mongongo Drupe“<https://muse.jhu.edu/article/576194/pdf&gt;

in fact, before I ever went to see him for that unforgettable weekend in Chicago, it was well before these recent events, so I guess that was for the best, as I would be unable to explain what has happened to her, and it is most definitely my life, not hers.  

Mongongo” the name of the only oil I put on my hair, and it seems to be working.

Oh I well remember my son driving me to her house in Cleveland in the pouring rain, rather as it is right now in Ypsilanti, and exchanging texts with that Most Delightful man; how wonderful that was; you don’t realize how wonderful every moment has been…. That Callaloo story only gnaws at a most wonderful surface, and even that hardly accesses what is so amazing and terrific about being  with you/him…

Here’s part of that  email exchange:

-on our way to visit my sick mother –she’ll be 85 next month –and is finally okay with my seeing you –she even told me to visit thrift shops to try to buy back the blue striped dress [of course, she has no idea what I plan to do with you –and you don’t either; hope you’ll be happily surprised –and will surprise me also; I love surprises from the right man.  She’s never seen my parts in that movie about poetry you roduced and asked me to be in, and I plan to play the part with the dress for her once we arrive.
The rain is so intense windshield is completely obscured –hard to type, but wanted to forward this latest communication from the Teresa Nyong Vogel Foundation.

By the way, my ex is not   being  supportive at all of my trip to see you — though I really want to attend, that Teresa Nyong Vogel reunion is a veil, removable veil to see you. He remarked to me that I must really want to see you considering all that I’m doing –inviting you and everything, sharing a hotel room –dressing for you, trying to guess what you’d like to see me wear, but imagining even more how you’ll remove it, and look at me, then touch me –my son isn’t helping with the R&B music he’s playing
–Jaheim– and that music plus what I’m already thinking is dangerous… Now Luther Vandross –“Never Too Much” –“a thousand kisses from you is never too much, a million days in your arms is never too much”

Jaheim

Luther Vandross – “Never Too Much”

to which he replied:

“I worry about your safety and I chortle at yr wildness and I ripsnort with passion and I flagellate with absorption and I tentacleize with tendresse as I undress the emptiness”

I would never want to divest myself of the memories of That Delightful Man for that would be to try to purge my mind of the best memories my heart has ever known, as an adult.

He asked for the dress I wore in his movie he  didn’t just ask for it, but described it completely!   How impressive that is, and I am not going to throw this away… maybe he has revealed himself to be an ordinary man, but that is just fine, I like him, no I love him anyway.  

This is not the first time a woman has loved a man who still thinks so fondly of her, and even still loves her in his way… But asking for the dress, really shows me the depth of the impression I made on him when I was in the movie about poetry for which he was one of the producers and asked me to be in it; make no mistake about that!

The parts in the movie in which I wore the blue striped dress:

and:

“While the blue-striped dress is gone, I did locate two pictures of me wearing it, and those I paste right here (photos taken at my mother’s house in Cleveland, Ohio).
Not sure of the date, but judging from my hair, sometime in the 1990’s —probably early 1990’s as there’s no evidence of graying”Blue striped dress1 (TUSOP).jpegBlue striped dress2(TUSOP).jpeg
Brasiers with JoJo Holman.jpeg

I’m in the back holding Ansted, Dennis is in the front, my aunt Eva who never married, and is mother of midget Mike, and who passed for white (she had some amazing stories until her death); JoJo Holman is right behind her.  The two girls are Bernard’s daughters.  Bernard is a huge lover of jazz and Godzilla.  My cousin Edward  (who lives in Chicago, but whom I won’t see while I’m there with you —as I mentioned, he’s only been to the airport once, and wouldn’t be able to find his way home; he lives on the south side of Chicago) is sitting to the left of Bernard’s daughter who also has MS –her grandmother, Belvia Brasier Hill, as I mentioned, died from a combination of MS and Huntington’s.  JoJo who lives in Tennessee is quite ill, and not expected to live much longer.  Haven’t seen him since this photo was taken.  We’re quite a small family with a terrible amount of distancing.

You asked, so let me tell you a little of how it was for me, flat-chested till I was in ninth grade –my mother and her sisters used to pray for me that I not remain so skinny and flat-chested. Then the miracle; overnight.  I was about 14, nearly 15 –went from a girl who didn’t need a bra (but wanted to wear a training bra anyway) to a 32D, the second most rare size, I was told by the Playtex salesman visiting the downtown May Co. Department store where I would work a few years later.

You can imagine the unwanted attention I attracted.  

I was just a shy little girl, shy little top heavy girl, more like the women on the maternal side of my family; and  thin, raw-boned more like members of my paternal extended family.  Those prayer sessions were rather intense.  And my aunts were (most of them are now deceased) pleased with the outcome.  Then, the most rare size a lingerie buyer told me: 32 DDDD.  Now, a mere 30 DDD or 32 DD depending on manufacturer…   I recall when I had the MRI on Friday  being asked what kind of implants were in my body and I tried to say that I had no breast implants –the expectation now, and I  seem unusual about that, natural, that is… So many operations for augmentation, and I once considered reduction.  Used to keep my arms crossed for a while, and even wore minimizer bras; used to try to hide, but  my ex really liked that about me, and actually I did too, and when I was nearly seventeen was glad to be pushed up.  

To both flaunt and have discretion; I was a most unusual professor.  
Bras were manufactured differently then, more pointed cups and so forth, so hiding was compromised.  I remember distinctly how I looked when my ex met me: a red stretch form fitting turtleneck (long gone) in church –exactly where a damaged 16-year-old girl belonged fresh back from an abortion in NYC (not legal anywhere else at the time).  Ultimately, I became more glad than not of my ability to attract certain forms of attention, but I’m so much older now, and what was once so attractive has changed a bit.  Tits and ass –that’s me, and I hope that you want all of that and will touch all of that –as much as you like, and I will reciprocate –maybe not in the beginning,  but in stages –I need to be introduced to eroticism and intimacy…  Please teach me, Mr. Delightful how to love you… How to receive whatever you want to give me, and how to give you whatever you’ll want from me…   Wish that you could touch me right now.  I really do.
There’s Huntington’s Disease in my paternal family (always fatal if you inherit the gene –are you familiar with that disease?–one death sentence I didn’t  inherit– and why I feel that most of them are deceased, and why I was unable to know my paternal grandfather.  Most of them lived in the south, Cowan, TN, at a time that races were discouraged from mixing). My paternal grandmother was mostly black, and some Indian (she was literate as was her mother in West Virginia, a small town for which Ansted is named), and my paternal grandfather was Native American, Caucasian, some East Indian (how all of that came together in Tennessee is rather strange –he was classified, as “mulatto” — I was raised to not be color conscious.  My paternal cousin in Wisconsin, whose mother died of MS and Huntington’s says his mother raised him as Indian period, Bernard H__.  One of my aunts “passed” for white so that she could work for the government. All my life, degree of pigmentation made differences in where I could go, what I could do, how I was treated, and I was one of the privileged because I wasn’t “too dark”, and had “good hair” (did you see/like Chris Rock’s “Good Hair” movie?).  
A real division in my paternal family because of degree of pigmentation and hair texture; some of the cousins (I actually have two in Chicago [Edward, and his sister Pam]) failed to inherit this hair –not me, and I was criticized for that– sometimes praised, but always considered “different” –and now, even at my age, with weaves, wigs and various hair attachments, and hair relaxer, form of lye, mostly, various hydroxides (I don’t have to use that product), it’s become rather common for black women to have hair that simulates a texture more smooth, and long –“Good Hair” explores so many topics, including “weave sex” –apparently so different from ordinary sex, but my hair isn’t like that; is attached, rooted in my scalp, without relaxer  
— as you can tell,  I’ve learned to flaunt that hair; I rather enjoy tossing it, and, as I said, I look forward to you brushing it, styling it, doing with it whatever you like –if you like that. If you want, you can use  your arms, maybe only one, and I could sit in your lap while you brush it –a turn on for me.  You’ll have to figure out best ways to position me for many things. 
 I’m sorry that I don’t know more, but will enjoy your teaching me, and no one need know.  Between us.  
I expect for everything that you do to be a turn on — I don’t really know what won’t be, but if I don’t like something, I’ll let you know.  Do you want me to be quiet when we touch, when we explore each other’s body? Or will I be encouraged to make noise? Will I be allowed, that is? I don’t want to be quiet; that seems unnatural.  When we actually make love, what if I want to scream? I will probably be shy at first, but I will still yield, and overcome my shyness.  I want this to be an experience unlike any experience you’ve ever had before… I want what happens to surpass anything you’ve imagined…. (I hope that you have indeed imagined us making love).  I want you to want more and more and more of me…. I want us both to explode… I look forward to detonation….
What are turn ons for you?  
I’d like to try to do them; I want you to be happy with me.  I want you to be really glad, even about that Brazilian wax, I got just for you, my first, in wanting you to be  really turned on that we’re together, alone in the hotel –one bed to rest things on, and another bed to use, ostensibly for sleeping (but only a little of that –I plan to have you as a stay-awake caffeine pill). 
Between the meetings that I also look forward to, and being with you, not quite enough hours in the day, but I’ll get by on reduced sleep so that there’s time for everything I hope to do with you.  
For the first time in my life, I don’t want any secrets.  You’re getting the me admitting to her lack of experience despite my age. 
My mother  accused me of loving my father more than her, and  I did –I identified more with him, maybe because he’s deceased, I did so much walking wih him, miles and miles;  my mother knew him only as a husband, a lover, but I knew him as a father, and I was an only child, and she never accompanied us on any of our walks –miles and miles…. Where I learned alternatives to the bible –the purpose of the walks, as soon as I got home from church.
CALVIN THEODORE BRASIER

He bought me a new book in the Golden L ibrary of kKnolwlede at the end of each walk (in this way making for me an alternative bible): 

A while ago you told me that if we’re ever alone the fire will meld us together.  We will be.  Soon.  Melding very soon.

“Weather is a factor, and those anticipated storms have arrived —love how the sky looks, it and the pond have merged.  Love the tapping on the roof, like fingertips, becoming angry at times, and then gentle, now scarcely making contact at all, but in roof-ways, the roof remembers the rain as a splintered lover that talks in thunder, and every now and then, illuminates their way with marvelous flashes of lightning, knife blades, marvelous knife blades….”

To which That Man regaining his sweetness as I remember so much, replied:

Dear Bullet Dodger —

Looks like you is stable eyesed!!!

Great photos of ver sexy you. 

and the family — who took the picture? What stories!!!! 

These photos were taken at my mother’s house, the home my father bought in 1963.  Badly in need of paint, something my mother will try to do herself.

______

We have such a long and complicated story; we have history, and that is just too much to ever give up. I can’t bear the thought of you not in my life… I want to get past this, and reinstate you as the wonderful, tender, caring man you always were, the man to  whom I wrote this:

All I know is that I hope to never lose your friendship (?)—but it’s more than that; I do  not know the proper word for what you are to me, but won’t say it again; nothing has changed, except I do not know the word acceptable to you (and I do not want to know what I am to you —not really [because I may not like it]) —but I am convinced that you care deeply, just as you know that I care deeply about you, no matter how old all manner of official documents say you are.  I like you regardless. I love you regardless, from the first time I told you.   The you, you are now, wherever you are, on a bridge or not.  We stood on something that connects us both literally and metaphorically —always, and that wonderful photo has life of its own.  It does what maybe we can’t, at this time.
Look, today I celebrate so much, being alive for one thing, and your existence.  I’m glad you’re in my world, and that I am in yours.  I’m glad that our story changes, grows [every “whichway”], mutates, but does not end.  I’m glad that we have a story, Mr. Delightful, and it is our story, and no other story is ours.  Only this one.  Always this one.  I’m so glad about this Mr. Delightful, more glad than I am capable of expressing (without some help from my very best friend: YOU):
I can run alongside

You but can’t keep up with you, your tapdancing

Shadow, your clothing made of earth and spit. But I know you

And when you wish me Happy Birthday I trade it for yours,

You not growing old, you everlasting, you infinity you.”

 (excerpt from a poem you wrote for me, remember?)
and you wrote this to me:

“Dear T,

What a moving and lovely letter, what a heart you got, a wondrous one, one that I know and got to know better, and better, and loved in the way we loved. A mind that evolved those feelings into literature, into a story for the ages.

And that art means so much to me — and this letter, just as much, meant just for me, explaining me back to me from your perspective, and through your lens. Our friendship has moved so many places the world cannot contain them all, and still goes on, growing every whichway.

So thank you infinitely for this gift of all possibility and the settling of the words’ world into a mutually respectful and fulfilling friendship. Of course that means ongoing, and how that works with collaborating, mutual performances, seeing each other etcetc — it’s all there, we just don’t know what yet, and that’s the beauty you have given us in this letter. The truth of it.

It means so much
It means everything

Mr. Delightful

A complex story in which I have experienced every emotion possible to feel, and I must thank you for that, for allowing me to feel “everything” (sounds as if I’m quoting my children’s book [and new book, in which you are so involved, all those “Higginson” poems [that come out of really seeing you, hearing you —discovering you as if for the first time, [[I so want us to write more poems together, of course —I so like connecting with you that way]] –listening to everything you say in so many locations, and I know you recognize them, as honored as you are in my writing —what man can claim such honor? — that I really feel, and as smart as you are —even “smart enough” to see me – and really understanding [[parts —of you, never the whole ‘enigmatic’ Mr. Delightful] —a good thing; hope I’m never able to figure you out completely, and  I am quoting two of my books): 
“I want to be [‘wannabe’] eyes  looking, looking everywhere [and seeing you: that is a forking  everywhere].
I want to be  [‘wannabe’] ears hearing , hearing everything [you say, and that is a forking everything]
I want to be [‘wannabe’] hands touching, touching everything [all of you, and that is a forking everything]
I want to be [‘wannabe’] mouth tasting, tasting everything [all of you, and that is a forking everything [romance novel]]
I want to be [‘wannabe’] heart feeling, feeling everything [for you, and this  is (or rather: could be the most forking  ‘everything’ of all were it not for what follows:]
I want to be [‘wannabe’] life doing, doing everything [for you, with you, because of you, through you –the most everything, for your birthday and everyday [[on which you are endlessly reborn in my heart]]] —That’s all.  And that is a forking everything forking [some Midhudson Taffy also, which also must fork and fork and fork as it’s ‘eaten with a fork’]”
68! —way to go!  

You also said this to me, Lord knows you always know  what to say:

“making poems is making life”

and you said this to me:

“I have all yr books, I think, Mz Moss. I do love A Man (if she’s A Woman)”

and you wrote this to me, so much more than this,

 

Skippity,

Sitting by a calming fountain in Kiev, just after the bells of St Sofia rocked the plaza — real rocks of noise

I can say a few things: how crazy are you? am I? we?

Pretty crazy, I’d say!

BUT certainly it is a continuously reviving poem

A fantasy dream and reality scream

You are a Go For It All woman finally free

You constantly inspire, and I wish to too

Standing off to the side and cheering you on

Hey! Watch out for that banana!

The Mnemonic of Yr Palindrome

TMnOYP

—- and when you woke this to me, Mr. Delightful, 

“I should be working

Instead of smiling at you

Smiling at you”

photo 2.JPG

to which I replied:

Isn’t smiling at me a form of work?

to which your reply was

“Lol!”

And how everything started with this:

“Hey, this won’t be a business call!

I’d be calling to reestablish contact, Ms Moss, that is all.”

Peace,

Mr. D

 

Surely you will recall that one stumbling block in the way of our love taking off; you called him “PSOG” (Previous Suitor Other Guy” although he had a name.   When you first contacted me after waiting 25 years, you had to wait an additional  two weeks, because of PSOG,  and when I contacted you two weeks later, just two weeks later, to tell you that PSOG was completely gone from my life (what I want you to say now about a certain nameless GF, you know what I mean); well to convince you that PSOG was gone, I sent him and BCC’d you on the breakup email of break up emails, this one:

Break up email of break up emails:

PSOG,

This isn’t as difficult as it may seem,

but under the circumstances,  I think it’s best to not be involved on even a  minimal level.  I appreciate — I really do— your continued concern, but I must try to achieve whatever I can on my own (or via members of family).  I appreciate your fondness and will remember it.  I agree that intimacy is not for us. Never was.  I can’t say that it will be with my new old-friend, but as I once told you, worth pursuing.  I like how for many years he’s cared for me —on any level.  Sorry, but I can’t do a blog or even go for walks, even if that leaves me out of shape.  I won’t forget my medicine, and I’ll find a way to get to that dreaded MRI on Sunday.  I’ll get there somehow, of that  have no doubt —even my ex has agreed to take me —I just don’t think it should be you.

You’re free to write responses to my writing —as any reader would be; I maintain a partnership in that sense with all of my readers (who are also forms of “collaborators”), most of whom never connect with me directly.  And yes; you may send your responses to me, and I’ll answer them as timely as I can, but won’t be preoccupied with responding (it’s not as if I have nothing else to do).  As long as such contact doesn’t suggest a sustained relationship with a possibility of growing into something else.  I don’t want such growth, and such growth didn’t happen naturally..  Send me anything you like via email.  Nothing wrong with that.  I just won’t go anywhere with you.  I can’t —would seem that I have no self-respect, and I do.  I guess I can blame all of this on match dot com, a service I no longer use, and won’t use again… If I hadn’t used it, wouldn’t have to write this message.  I’m quite disappointed with the service. 

It’s fine with me that we don’t attempt to pursue any romance ever—some things are just present, and no need to force what obviously isn’t there to kindle.  There is no fire to burn or extinguish.  No fire at all.  No attraction (other than my own —temporary— delusion).  

I’ll also be able to get to he airport; my ex has agreed to take me if necessary.  He’s also agreed to pick me up when I return to Detroit if necessary.  He has accepted that there won’t be any romance between us ever again –and he’s accepted that; he and I will be talking tomorrow, and he’s taking me to lunch, and will pay for all of it! —his and mine; he won’t ask me or demand that I pay for half! (as you did).  —Nor is there any romance between us, you and I, and I’m opposed to doing anything that might seem to open that door.  I’m closing that door for good- -something I thought I already did.  More than once.  We can’t be involved in that way for many, many reasons.  We’re so wrong for each other —in just about any way that I can imagine or construct a couple. There’s nothing right between us —and I can’t make it seem that way… I’m through pretending that we had something we didn’t.  I did that for too long, and I’m not going to dredge up past incidents —want to leave everything buried, and bury anything that remains above ground —all must be subterranean —coffin nailed shut.  Sprigs of garlic around, and a set of silver nails, wooden stakes

I’m trying to make this clear again: NO US!  —NOT EVER! —even if things fail abysmally with my new old-friend, I won’t be seeking to resume anything like that between us.  Just a casual friendship at best, right now (that includes Facebook). Whatever we almost or sort of had, is dead and buried, and I don’t rob graves to have some form of man in my life.  I don’t feel desperate.  Just divorced and available —for the right man, and that will never be you. He must ask have something to offer to me, intimacy of course, and you have none of that for me… Intellectual and emotional closeness; bonds of heart and mind —we’ll be able to connect on multiple levels —and we can’t, pure and simple.

Haven’t tried building my own Frankenstein’s monster, and I don’t want to form  closeness with a monster anyway.  No zombie for me either; I want a flesh and blood man who is confident of himself and seems to value me as something special —we’ll be special for each other —that can’t be you.  I want the man ultimately in my life to value me as much as I value him —nothing forced; completely natural, and its not natural for you to be involved with a woman on this level, a woman like me, I mean.  I’m well aware how that Teresa Nyong Vogel Prize was something you could use to a form of advantage, especially at Cottage Inn —but not to my advantage, only to yours…

We are no more! and I’m completely okay with that.  I’m shedding no tears.  Just moving forward, without you

—all I have holding me back is that MS-related optic neuritis (simulating blindness in my left eye) and my loss of directional skills  (aneurysm related) —I can get lost so easily; remember all the trouble I had when we walked and I had trouble knowing which way to go?  This is a problem I have.  Perhaps it’s permanent. I hope that the man who becomes the man in my life won’t mind, that it won’t be an encumbrance for him; we’ll find ways to navigate around this glitch, I’ll call it —just who I’ve become physiologically we all change with age, by the way, something that I know you know, and won’t mention again (would require a little grave-robbing, your impotence that you tried to blame on me, grave-robbing, so I guess I do  leave on a vindictive note, but I am sure you know your own impotence that you tried to blame it on me).  Causing my friend to allow me to see him nude from the waist down, asking only that I take no photos; i didn’t but kind of wish I had, as I had never seen anythingn so huge and entirely tempting that would very soon —if I could accommodate all of him–be inside me

It wasn’t just the porn vignette.  Many things…. There is no path to romance for you to me.  Not ever. And I don’t want a path from me to you.  Not ever.  

My mother commented last night that I have no need to tell anyone even that I have MS, since my disease is so invisible, and she’s particularly upset with you as it looks as if I was a prize that you couldn’t recognize for what it is.  Obviously you weren’t ready to pursue a relationship with me or perhaps with any woman (you did tell me about your involvement —brief— you said, liaison  with another man) —but that may be too accusatory to say.  I’m not writing to solicit a response, just to finish closing a door, that I thought was closed anyway, and maybe would still be had I not mistakenly invited you as a possibility for getting me to and from the airport —Sorry for the invitation.  I’m withdrawing it now, and will be sure not to invite you further to anything.

Just to make this as clear as possible:

No us.  Not now.  Not ever. No matter what happens.

Thylias

and after this you were fine , and we could begin… one of my favorite parts was when PSOG tried to blame his impotence on me, and also said he refused to use condoms, and you told me that you  would drive an 18-wheeler full of condoms down my street, and talking on FaceTime, you showed me and told me that if I could see you right then, and I could, everything, I would know that impotence around me was hardly your problem.  And it certainly wasn’t. Not then, and definitely not in person.  I must confess, that I really liked seeing this.  Really gave me something tangible to dream about.

 

But in the hotel I was offered an upgrade on the room, a single king bed instead of the 2 queen beds reserved, and you answered, so, so eagerly, your arm tightly and tightening even more around me; you were determined never to let me go, now that I was yours.  “we’ll take the single king” and we did, Room 304 –I will never forget that.  

 

Oh well: Delight after Delight Mr. Delightful

Don’t you remember this?

 

Soon after that, you sent me this:

“Baby
I can’t wait
To taste your kiss
Kiss kissing kisses
Slow you lead your
Beautiful tender lips
Just to rest there
So quiveringly touching
The moment itself
Kissing”

Don’t you want to remember this?

Aren’t you glad that I do?  Aren’t you?

Oh Mr. D, I hope you  also remember writing this to me:

Don’t be nervous, except a little, in a good way! and don’t worry about Sat — you can play by ear, and you should enjoy the Geniuses as much as you can. We’ll have plenty of time — and will probably be wanting a bit of rest…  !!!

Mr. D
 Mr. Delightful, I don’t want you to be able to forget a single second of what we have shared! including this:
“You are beautiful

3,766. I  am looking forward to reading your letter and viewing the attachments

Mr. D” 

You are still this man, aren’t you? Aren’t you still the man with whom I fell in love?  Aren’t you?  Don’t you want to be this man?  Don’t you want me to love you, even t  –Something I have never done with you is lie.    Please don’t make me regret all the poetry (including the poetry of our bodies; I know it looked divine, just the way you made me feel –that photo that I will not post out of respect for your “decision”  [now that really is a “glitch“]– we’ve shared and even written together… Please don’t make me feel that I meant nothing to you…

The absolutely delightful  man who also said this: ” You have always inspired me, Forkergurl”

–and of course, Mr. Delightful has always inspired me… 

You just don’t know all that we have shared; Mr. Delightful, can you possibly understand the complexity of what you might be  throwing away? rocking the eery foundation of everything we’ve shared over the years, causing  me to have to question everything that transpired between us?  –transforming all of it, and there has been so much, into lies.  
Just really try to understand what this is doing to me, because I want you to be as delightful as you always had been, delightful and honest… 
How can I be so replaceable, when there will never be anyone else like you, I know that, and as I’ve always done, I want to celebrate you! I gave myself to you fully, and all I ever wanted was for you to give yourself to me just as fully, just as completely.  I have been willing to work on the terrible distance between us that didn’t drive me to  lies! –Not once did I try to deceive you.  Not once.  Think about it.  Love like mine is rare Mr. D, and it is all yours.  All yours.  Forever.
Very recently, on 3  August, you wrote this and lit up my heart, Mr. Delightful:
Thylias,  It is Love & that is all, it is kin and Life itself. 
To which I replied:

You know that I accept this.  I like hearing that it is Love. 

I’m just afraid that it might not be love tomorrow.  

I love knowing that it is Love, I need that more than anything… 

As long as it will continue to be love, I am fine.  

No one can say how long it will continue to be love on this Wildest of Rides, but I am glad to take this ride with you.

Thylias

And now?  I still love you, 
 
 
I shouldn’t love you if and while you are involved with your GF who should be me, and who was.  Only me.  I did that for you.  I never lied to you, Mr. D; not once.
You are worth it,  and
and I am still worth it. Mr. Delightful.
and, Mr. Delightful, I remember all, all of it so damned good

Even more recently, in September, last month, he said, “Relax –it takes time”

after I sent him a text in which I told him how I really want to see him, and how I really hope he likes my selfies.  

Relax – it takes time” he said

and “why so choosy picky? They are all great as usual”

to which I said, “All great as usual? Nice of you to say that before you’ve been see them,  I guess you do notice me and I am glad.  Very glad actually.”

I have always worried that he likes how I look; I have always wanted to appeal to him physically.  You see for he 44 years I was with my ex, beginning when I was 16, he never, not once, called me pretty or beautiful of anything like that.  He said my head would swell, and over the years, I thought of myself as unattractive, not to mention when a grade school teacher said when I returned to visit her when I was in ninth grade, “Thylias! –you’re beautiful! you were such an ugly child!”   I was.  I know that.

I’ve seen this man in Chicago, Minneapolis and Detroit., and he made it a point to always call me beautiful or pretty; he had no idea how badly I needed to hear this until I told him what I never heard.  And then he said it all the time, and I learned to think myself pretty, and now I have a problem with vanity…  Anyway, one day Mr. Delightful sent me a text,

“Thylias, you are one gorgeous woman”

I have loved having dinner with him so much. I had my first real dates with this man.

I learned how to kiss with this man, and he can really kiss.   I was touched in ways I’d never been touched before, with his fingers, tongue and, well, not an x-rated blog. but you get the idea.  

In Minneapolis, when we were about to go to dinner, he said he’d come to my hotel room at 5:30 pm, and asked “U r ready for dinner?”

to which I replied, “Sure. Don’t look my best, however.”

to which he replied, “LOL”

and I had another wonderful meal with him.  Sommetimes, I forget all about context.  My sense of time gets out of whack.  And then I accuse him of things he did not do.  This doesn’t mean that he  handled this current “situation” properly, because he didn’t. But when everything is added up, the list of pluses is substantially longer, and besides, what human being does not deserve forgiveness?  He needs forgiveness; we all do, and this way, I get to have some peace, and continue the best friendship I have ever had in my life.  

There has been enough hurt, and if he is able to love anyone, that is a good thing.  

May we all be so lucky as to find someone to love.

Hello 2016

2016, This is my year! –this is the year of acceptance of my book: 

“Looking for  Forker Gyrl”

IN


NKH: New Kiss Horizon

by Adorabilis Flapjack   Tardis  

(Thylias Moss)

Won’t be much longer; I can feel it, I can taste it, that’s how palpable and real this already is!

Being patient; enjoying what is already in place. I wrote a book that I really believe in.

Now all I must do it wait; this is not easy, because this book means so much to me…

Every since I’ve been a writer, since I was six years old, I’ve wanted to write such a book, and now I have….

Seems I should be able to enjoy it (will be my 12th book), but I am just so anxious –though logic (and my son) both encourage me to be calm, and able to enjoy completing this book of my life!

I have walked many miles trying to distract myself, from the inevitable –I believe!– acceptance of this wonderful book for representation.

I dream of this, will this with every waking moment, and, you better believe, that when I try to sleep, I dream of acceptance also, and the sale of the book itself!

All the interviews, the movies; this is coming. I know it. There have been only about 10 readers, and all of them have loved it! –and “have loved it!” is putting it mildly.

I want this success, and although I’m so frequently self-effacing, I have earned such a book.Moss CV 2012-2015-corrected form 18 November 2015

A published writer since 1983! Numerous awards! Of course, I’m grateful that my problem at the moment is only whether or not the prospective agent will want to represent it, –such luxury in a problem, let alone that I’m still alive after a traumatic brain injury…

Please pardon me if I celebrate prematurely, but that’s how confident I am. I know a good book when I read one, and this book is it.

I know I’ve been saying this for a little while, and I’m eager to post that I have agency representation, and now that it’s 2016, surely it wont be much longer! –before I’m 62 at the end of February…

I have to be confident.

I believe in this book! –the few of you who have read it, may comment if you like, but even if you don’t, I still believe in this book, this writing of everything I know how to hope…

still in the dark in some of my home, but not in the dark about the imminent success of my book!

and now some recent postings of some old music I made with my son:

variations of “Rupted Sums” and “Enter Rupted Sums

Just a little taste of  things to come!

Just take look at my Moss CV 2012-2015-corrected form 18 November 2015

and “enter rupted sums – long division

 

Please enjoy, more good and spectacular things to come!