A Quickie...

Leesh has told me my blog posts are really freakin' long for blog posts.

Oh, well. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but I ain't Shakespeare. I'm just one of his many bastard decendents, muddling along and philosophizing. Besides, his plays ain't short.

Well, it's a beautiful October Saturday. I just had coffee with the Mighty Lucifer--first time I've seen him in at least six years. *sigh* Gods, that man is so fucking beautiful. I mean, STUNNING... (he'll kill me for writing this, but I don't care. Deal with it, babe--you're one of the guys I'll never be completely over, and I'm good with it. If I can fall for someone as good as you, there's some hope for my battered heart. Besides, it reminds me to keep my standards high and NOT to settle.) I talked about men being beautiful earlier in the week; Lucifer is one of the men who solidified my concepts on this.

See, while he is physically attractive (and he is--finest arms, ass and thighs I've ever seen [even if never naked, dammit]--amazing facial planes, thick jet hair which looks fab with the little bits of grey and white now, eyes... ooooooohhhh, the mischief in those eyes.... and with the crinkle laugh lines starting in the corners... Gods, has he aged well... just HANDSOMER than ever, sexier than ever), it wasn't his face or body that I first noticed when I met him: it was his eyes and the intelligence and soul burning there. Hit me like a freight train, and I knew that I HAD TO KNOW THIS MAN, and while I never managed to bed him, I did end up with a cherished and beloved friend who I would defend to the death. And I'm gonna shut up now before I get myself into trouble.

I give away no secrets--he's known for a long time how I feel; however, we share a number of characteristics--we're both brutally honest and hopelessly honorable--and so long as he is married, we will only ever be friends. Neither one of us has ever cheated on a partner and aren't about to start now. We'd smack each other. THAT'S the real reason I love him. He's one of the few people on the planet not afraid to kick my ass.

My head is deep in my panties right now--not only did I start my morning with Himself, there is a date on the horizon for the late afternoon. I shan't reveal who the candidate is, but if this goes forward... I may find myself no longer partner-less.

But we shall see. I'm not holding my breath. Because while I am most faithful, I have little faith until after I have some proof. Ah, my cynical heart...

As for that comment about noticing eyes first... that's the secret with all of my crushes: it's always about the eyes. ALWAYS. From the first to the latest, it's always, always, always about the eyes for me. My first clear memory of Peter O'Toole were his startling blue eyes in The Stunt Man trailer; my favorite pic of Jim Jefferies (you KNEW I'd mention him--just two weeks to Alcoholocaust!) catches his eyes, full of soul and sorrow and bruised innocence. You want to know the secret to great comedy? Those two words: bruised innocence. That's where the funny starts: in pain.

And now, my cherished blurkers, Her Most Imperial Majesty needs to refresh her coffee and get to the NaNoWriMo Meet & Greet, a date (hopefully), and drinkages with former students who have become dear friends. Which is how a beautiful October day should be spent... with people you like and love and who remind you how much life is worth living. I may not be in Nova Scotia, but I cannot say my life here in Boston is not filled with love and light.

Now, I must go fetch my Viking hat. ONWARD!

Much love,
Your Empress