Showing posts with label kisses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kisses. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 24, 2014


Not all kisses are intended to elicit emotional or magical responses... But all kisses do exchange energy that affects your aura and that is magic!

Here's another 400 from SMOKE!

Are you super excited to read it?

Kisses, m.


I'm so very emotionally interwoven.
Mentally craving the unknown.
Wanting the connection of his kiss.
Magical, the energy of him dances in front of me.
Teasing me with a look. 
A smile.

Close enough to taste the smoke but he stops.
Running his fingers between my fingers.
Innocently whispering in my ear.

I can't stop looking in those eyes.
I'm in heaven when he stares.
Comforted by them and longing for more.
It's too far when he's standing front of me.
But he's enjoying the wait.

Testing my patience that hangs by a breath.
A breathe that takes in his emotions.
Closer until that magical kiss misses
And doesn't connect.

He relishes in this game. 
Knowing that I do too.
We like to watch the other 
As we're circling inward.

More intimate than ever we are face to face.
I'm touching him while the swallowing the smoke.
In his space, moving toward his face.
Climbing up his neck with my free fingers.
Trying to harness this connection.
Hold it steady.
Keep it safe. 

My hands harness him completely. 
But I want more.
Letting him move in.
On the brink of ecstatic 
When he slides his arm around my back.
Pulling me closer.
Giving me another taste of his breathe.

Smoke that leads the way of intention.
A promise of a kiss. 
Magical energy ready to be shared.
Vibrating beneath the skin my blood pumps fiercely, 
Fastly with passion.

The passion in electricity shocks.
And those shocking eyes send volts up my spine.
I signal for no words.
I could read his mind through his actions.

Breathe, touch and taste
Are showing me more than words.
Words are meaningless. 
Useless vowels can't compete with his hand caressing my face.
Lips tracing the skin on my neck 
As the smoke climbs up and up around us.

But there's only intention.
Anticipation of more.
Tension mounting in my grip.
But I don't concede.
I lean in to pull him closer.

Up close and personal but oh so far. 
I don't know my own patience
When I slide my fingers out of his and around his back.
I pull him nearer to me. 
Taste the smoke and kiss his cheek.

My tease causes a turn. 
He pulls me back
Kissing me hard.
I feel the magic as his heart beats against mine fast.

Without a thought he's become...

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Happy New Year! Dream Roomspiration: Champagne!

Champagne Kiss - c/o

Happy New Year Dolls and Kens! There's only one thing that sums up New Years Eve and that's a Champagne Kiss and Toast at the end of the night! When you think about that great event and plan in detail don't forget the most important thing: Setting the mood of the room!

Dream Roomspiration: Champagne!

Will you get into the mood to celebrate a Happy New Year? 

Barbie WILL!
Kisses, m. 

Monday, July 22, 2013

Mirrors, Versions, Originals...OH MY!

Mirrors, Versions, Originals...OH MY! 

Who are you if you aren't being the best version of yourself? A friend of friend at a party at a bar in an SF club was chatting with me many years ago as a drag king belted out her best of KD Lang. While the rest of the scene slow danced like a high school prom to the ballad I mentioned my desire to direct music videos and produce. (A lifetime long past I wanted a different life than the one I've chosen... Happily chosen I might add. Being an amazing producer in school doesn't mean you'll be happy doing it in life. Ah my dear film school mentor, I always knew I disappointed you.) Well, the friend of friend told me about 'Hollywood' and his perception of the people in it. What always stuck with me was one bit of dialogue and of course I used it, "Mirroring, that's what actors do when they meet normal people." I never judge a city or the people in it by other people's words, but I always did love his bit. So which version are you the original or are you the mirror? Anywho, being EVOL is busy work, so I must get back to helping others realize that EVOL is always deep within them and waiting for them to feel it. 

This is a excerpt from THE INAUTHENTIC LIFE. Its working title was "the perspectives" for anyone who is thrown a bit off. It will be out this year. Have a read if you've never read any of it. 

ENJOY! kisses, m.

kisses c/o

(posted 9-27-2010)

Tell me you love me,” she says before gently grabbing my face and placing tiny little kisses on my lips. Delicate soft flits against mine. It’s 6:30 pm and I’m at a reading with the infamous Chloe St. Claire. Model turned actress turned model slash singer turned artist slash humanitarian actress. It’s the TV thing that wasn’t supposed to stay a thing for very long. My three and a half pages have become six pages and soon there will be none. We’re standing side by side with the writers, the actors, the directors, the producers and anyone else who isn’t necessary for participation at a reading. But this is different. Andrew fill-in-the-blank writer extraordinaire has called for a walkthrough reading.

She tells me “I hate how I have to be sad to play a happy character. It’s like lying and telling the truth at the same time. It’s not me.”  

Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. While I’m here reading the pages out loud I wonder what happened to the old celluloid fairytales where love would conquer all in the end. Not like this. A girl is kissing another girl on page 15 while this man watches and then they’re all talking about it over dinner on page 16. At this moment I’m glad it’s Chloe’s turn at reading and not mine, but I keep following along with it anyway. Chloe is in true form the embodiment of the character I’m reading for but she’s already playing this other part like she’s me. I can’t help thinking that she’s better than me. Even when I lean in and kiss her while Andrew whatever-his-name-is, the writer says it’s not working I wonder if it’s my fault.

How can I be less myself and more like you?” This is what Chloe says over the table when I first met her six months ago.  No one could mistake Chloe for me or vice versa. She’s tall naturally blond sun-kissed and I am an average height brunette without much sun. But she sat in front of me with the very serious question and I just smiled without knowing what to say. It was the first time anyone had ever wanted to be me. Even I didn’t want to be me.

Mirroring. This is what actors do when they meet someone normal.” Alton explains this to me over lunch one day in the Sunset eight months ago. I’ve just told her I’m moving to LA to be an actress. She’s telling me this warning while wearing my Prada mules and my Chanel jacket with the same color hair and style that I have. Who are you if you aren’t your best friend?  I think that this is what people do when they meet someone new. Steal all the parts they love and copy them until you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. It’s a bit like leaching if you ask me. But no one asks me. You take enough parts and what’s left over isn’t worth anything. If you suck the one you truly love dry in a matter of months then where will you find it next?

Mid lip-lock with Chloe trying to get the scene right for the third time, I’m thinking about how this moment mirrors me and her. She’s no longer blond. Still sun-kissed. My paleness is warmer now and we both have the same length and color of hair. Am I the copy or is she? Her hands move in and she presses hard. More yells this writer. She grabs my waist and holds even longer. I wonder what’s she’s thinking. This has nothing to do with the lines.

So at this moment while Chloe is groping my breasts and Andrew what’s-his-name is screaming for more intensity I realize that she’s really me and I’m pretending to be someone else now. And it doesn’t matter when I wipe her saliva away from my face and he yells, “That’s it! Can you do that with Inza tomorrow?” Because she’s done it. Become me. A better version. And I’ve become someone else. Me with my three pages left, a mere walk on cameo in this TV thing can’t compare to the other person I’ve fallen into. That’s the real version of me, instead of her. That’s mirroring 101.

 “Do you want to come over?” Chloe asks me in the bathroom while doing a line of blow off the counter. I take a tissue and wipe my lips clean before reapplying more color. I’m watching me watch her in the mirror. Every detail down to her eyebrow shape is a slightly accentuated version of mine. There’s nothing original about her. She’s taken my nervous twitch and smile. Pursing her lips that same way I do. Lifting her eyes with the same arch and curve. These little unnoticed pieces are now her. She is me. Standing next to me in the mirror she says she’s impressed with my ability to jump into character after pushing her breasts up in the vintage Gucci halter. I think she’s lying because I need to prepare to be someone else now. But I say ‘why not’ instead of excusing myself.

I think back to the last few days before I left the city and always come back to that moment I met Alton for lunch in the Sunset. She wasn’t saying or acting any differently than she normally would have. In fact I think it was the one time she was most herself. Alton and I were inseparable aside from living arrangements several months earlier. She wasn’t me and I wasn’t her, but we were more the same than different and it could have gone on like that forever. Being me was who she was. I can’t remember the last time I’ve talked with Alton since that day. I can only keep remembering how much she looked like me and talked like me in all the other memories. Stealing my words and my look with the guise of friendship. There’s no real connection without the mirror to remind that you aren’t really you.

It’s a quarter to seven when I wake up at Chloe’s. She already up in mid tree pose and not breathing or concentrating. She’s too busy staring at her picture on the back cover of Entertainment Weekly that’s lying spread out on the foot of the bed. I smile when she breaks position and asks about the freckles on her face being noticeable in the picture. I shake my head while telling her they’re unnoticeable and then try to tell her something about the black and white contrast in the photograph when she picks up the phone and starts dialing. It’s then I decide I need a shower because she’s too busy trying to be her being a better me to listen to me.

Somewhere between the infomercial versions of Price is Right and Let’s Make Deal she’s talking with her assistant about a script adaptation for Dostoevsky that her agent sent over. She keeps sending it back and tells her assistant to call her agent about this problem. I smile and the assistant hits speed dial over the speaker. The conversation isn’t great. Chloe drops three “I fucking don’t want to’s” before ending the call. She throws the oversized script at her assistant before falling into a tantrum. The rant begins and something about her face reveals that she does have freckles. The phone rings again and her agent is on speaker once again. Her assistant hands me a cup of coffee and I start to read the Harpers Bazaar that’s on the table.

It’s fifteen after nine when my phone rings and I decide to leave the scene of dysfunction. Tucking out front door with my heels in hand and phone cradled beneath my neck I whisper into the line.
“Hel-lo.” I serenade into the line while quickly stepping into my shoes.
“Jemma darling, how are things?”
“Wayne Baby! Great.” I forget my place and scream. “Look, the place you set me up with has been fabulous. Thank you again…”
“Look Honey, I need a favor. And I couldn’t just have anyone call you for this?”
“Anything Wayne, you’ve been a…”
“Alex is coming into town today. He’ll be at the airport in four hours. Can you get him?”
“Of course.  I have a fitting in an hour and a half, but I should be able to swing it.”
“Thank you doll. I’m glad you’re enjoying things. Sorry to run, but I have to...”
“Oh. Well of course.”
“Bye Jemma.”
“Kisses. Wayne.”

Looking in the mirror is never enough.” This is the advice I get from a woman I might call mentor if she wasn’t chain smoking and eating a McDonald’s cheeseburger.  She’s telling me that the “mirror doesn’t tell the truth” while wearing something nameless you might find in a vintage shop in the Haight, although she insists it came from Versace circa 1982. And she keeps telling the wardrobe mistress she’s a 7 not an 11. I want to laugh every time I see her. But she’s right about one thing. The mirror is not your friend.

I’m thinking about the enemies not in the mirror when the wardrobe mistress is fighting with an assistant over another actress’s size. As the wardrobe mistress verbally assaults her entourage the young woman looks uptight and it’s hard to believe she was in that BIG movie last year or on the cover of Glamour this month. I’ve never seen a person look so scared of the truth as the wardrobe mistress pulls a curtain to shut out the enemies not in the mirror.

On my end of the room the pants feel far too tight already. But I’m at a fitting to make them tighter because the physical being of the character hasn’t truly been captured by my performance. As they are fitting me for the next smaller size of pants because this is what “the character” would wear, I realize that it’s how you see things.

Perspective is a way of life, maybe the only way? We all live inside this tiny little image of ourselves. It’s not how they see us at all. That doesn’t matter. It’s only how you see yourself that matters most in the world. “But how can you ever really know who you are if the mirror lies?” it’s what I’m thinking when I must have said it out loud.

“Take a picture.” This tiny little girl with the schedule for shooting whispers and hands me the latest script revision. It’s now three less pages most of which will land me on the cutting room floor. She smiles and leans in again. “Cameras don’t lie. And it’s not the mirror that lies… it’s your mind.”

On my last day in the city I took a bus and then a walk down by the Presidio and ended up by Crissy Fields. There’s this place in the city that I like to go to. It’s past the Marina before you get to Crissy Fields close to the Wave Organ. It’s a corner of earth where nothing looks like anything else. You look at three sides of water and see something different. Along the way there are no real residences unless you live on a sailboat or a yacht. I pass this part of the Marina where Wayne has a friend with a boat. A “somebody” who owned and lived on this boat. Passing. Remembering that it was close to where I went to this party once.

These parties always happened there but this one wasn’t great, filled with people that didn’t like each other like Reggie and Ashton and important people who mattered like Wayne. Adrian was there with me. Things were ok then before we left for there and... Most of the parties weren’t great then but you don’t know that until you’ve left them. That was when the tourists would show up. When things stopped being great the scene tourists always managed to appear. The teenage girls and boy with their Ugg boots, Converse and laced up jeans matched with some dying pieces of Heatherette matched with a laced up tank from Diesel under a vintage bomber jacket produced by Levi Strauss. Elitist brats wasting time and drugs on this party in the Marina for kicks wearing their faux scene clothes trying to imitate the scenesters who were already bored and leaving.

One time at these parties a body was found dead after the tourists arrived and left. The newspaper reports were of multiple rapes and assaults among the children before this body was found drawn and quartered hanging over the side of a boat in a net. A boat that someone who was somebody owned in the Marina. It was the rawest form of survival of the fittest. Baby scenes picking away the competition that looks exactly the same. The whole mess and scandal forced the owner of the boat to sell. There’s a rumor that you can hear the cries of the rape victims and see the pieces of dead flesh floating around in the waters of the Marina. Even in the chill of the breeze the view is spectacular. When I walk alone to the edge of the water I’m almost expecting to hear the screaming voices echoing through the organ.

Everything the same in nature is different without trying. Reflections in the mirror are nothing like the things in nature. Animals don’t have mirrors to see themselves. How can they know what they look like? By looking at each other. It’s in the similarities of each other that animals know what they are. There is no need for begging and borrowing.

You have to go. I can’t.”
“But you’re….”
“Shh. I can’t be happy for you and let go.”
“Don’t do this. I don’t want to let go.”
“Then don’t. You know I love you.”
“No, I don’t... Tell me you love me.”
Thirty seconds of jaw dropping silence follows the scene. It’s like real-life imitating art, imitating real-life. Inza’s back on set for the shooting and the intensity between her and Chloe is unmistakable as they struggle to break away from the kiss. It’s hard to believe that there’s no love between them. I can see why Chloe misses her. Maybe that’s why I went home with her. There’s just that piece missing in her that wants to be seen. To be loved. The mirror lies. The camera doesn’t.

I’m on a boat to Staten Island with this friend of Andy’s who I’ve only met five hours ago. Being on boats reminds me of Jemma and being in the Marina where those kids killed those other kids playing scene. I need a hit just thinking about killing and Jemma and looking for something in everything. I’ve been everywhere and no where trying to find something in everything. Alex hasn’t been at Andy’s since 4am and doesn’t answer his phone. Someone at Andy’s says he went to LA already. We weren’t leaving until tomorrow night. And I’m still trying to remember what happened when I was losing something somewhere this morning while taking a hit outside of Tiffany’s and what you were doing when the car disappeared. I keep thinking I need some candy to handle this memory that isn’t complete… while I’m ringing up Alex again the view is amazing. I tell this gorgeous woman about the view before she says that I’ll catch up to Alex in a little bit and not to take the candy. After she touches my hair she reminds me that she’s already booked my flight to LA to follow him and we’re just killing time. I like killing time with her it lets me like her smile. We’re talking about things that matter, when she giggles about the whores and Van Gogh instead of blushing like other girls might I know there’s more to this one than meets the eye.

Monday, July 15, 2013

Dream Roomspiration: The Lipstick Lips

Barbie knows there's nothing like a good kiss. And you should waste any chance to give or get one. That gorgeous blonde Ken should know that by now. But what happens afterwards? Leave a kiss behind then be inspired by it! Decorate your room and seal it with a kiss!

Dream Roomsiration: The Lipstick Lips 

Lipstick Chair

Lipstick sofa

Lipstick walls

Lipstick Art

Would you decorate with a kiss? 

Barbie would!

Kisses, m.

Tuesday, April 30, 2013


Backstreet Boys - Dead on the road c/o

Back from the Highway! How was everyone's weekend? Moi? I had a fabulous weekend filled with lots of interesting things to do... To my friends who came along and invited me to tag along, The Stylist in SF, The Photographer and The Muse in LA, it was a lot of fun! We will have to do it again! 

NOW,  I'm sorry if anyone's weekend was INAUTHENTIC! But you simply made mine more fabulous! Google tells me you've increased my ranking! Thanks for being so curious about Kierkegaard! And it definitely helps a lady out! kisses!

Hi again Honey! Sorry I was away but I didn't miss you! Looks like you missed me though... In the heart or in the head but you are always thinking of me. Well then? Are you ready to share the rest of your statement? I didn't think so. But from the looks of things you have been very busy and you've invited a couple of friends! Me thinks you don't have much of a life. TSK! TSK! You should get out of the house more often and away from your phones, electronic devices, etc! Those will kill you. HA!

So let me see... you are from Cincinnati, New Haven, Medina, and Joliet. but that's not right at all! Look, I'm sorry but I can't stop living just to please you. That would be Inauthentic! DEAL WITH IT! But thanks to you I do have a higher Google ranking and perhaps the attention of some people who don't like Internet Bully's! Please understand that you did start all of this. By all means feel free to be mature and leave a comment and finish it! Because Honey, you can mask your locale, IPs, and click posts to your heart's content but unless you leave a comment, I don't understand or speak your brand of JACKASS! Do you have an interpreter?

You might as well leave a comment now since you've left a trail to follow. I love roadrunner's don't you? Such beautiful creatures. It's really all in the details, Honey. Those are the little things that will catch up to you in the end. I have nothing to hide but it looks like you certainly do. It must be dreadful to have to pretend to be something you are not and be quite bad at it

*you are not invisible. OOPS! I'm so sorry to point that out and you have no idea! It's OK to have a panic attack. Brown paper bags help. Deep slow breath's. Inhale. Exhale.
Honey, once you calm down, do try to remember this: You don't have to just lay in the road, you can get up and walk away. As long as you are alive you can do anything and change anything! Thank you for all of the love. If it isn't love, please realize how much your hate is promoting me! Oh I love it either way since it benefits moi! Thanks again dolls! 

kisses, m. 

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT: I'm glad you love the PINK HOUSE Brazil and London! It's an adorable choice of dream house! kisses, m.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Happy Valentines!

 © Diego Munòz : Photo Credit

Happy Valentines Day to all! The lovers, the singles and the babes just starting out on their journey. The above image is one that sets on the desktop of my MAC. It's absolutely gorgeous! I do love to see the love. Why doesn't "The Fabulous Ms M experience it?" Alas, I would experience that romantic love if there was a special fellow... but there is not. So I certainly enjoy all the other aspects of love and appreciate wherever it comes from. Especially on holidays that screams about it from the rooftops! Anyhoo, I'm sparing you the heart-shaped dream house today... or am I? Time will tell. And in the meantime please enjoy a little snippet. A short story if you will, in the form of a love letter. It is also available in my ebook "Between the Sheets" which you can get here!  Enjoy! 

kisses, m.


My love, my angel, watching you sleep is possibly the most exquisite sight these humble eyes have had the pleasure to behold. The sun as it weakly finds its way into our room illuminates your skin and dances in your hair. I can not count the ways I am blessed to wake next to such a wondrous creature each day. The soft sounds that escape your lips as you linger in dreams are pleasant music to ears that had only known din before your song. The dreams in your mind surely can not capture half of my devotion for you. Watching you dream is torment to my soul. I can only envy these thoughts that take you away from me. As while you are away, I can only send you my love. Such peace, my love, is in your body at rest. Still eyes, quiet mouth, and calm breathing. My mind is in eager anticipation to embrace you, possess you in this tranquil moment.

What is in your thoughts that you slumber so delicately before these eyes of mine? Is it your lover in dreams that keeps us apart in such cruelty at night? Dreams provide no definition in reality. Could it be true that my only love prefers the company of such phantoms over waking into my genuine arms? Cruel mischief is at hand, for these thoughts take you where I can not follow. I curse the night and the need for slumber. Angel, dream no more. Leave my side no longer. Dreams are foul, cursed distractions that only filled my mind with torment and yours with peaceful joy. Do I dare to believe you dream of me, as I am here waking and watching as your humble servant without the least bit of hesitation. Darling, how it would be heaven if only you could draw me into your mind. We could be alive in a world that knows nothing of boundaries. To embrace every last bit of your soul, eternally. Ah, but I am denied such an unearthly pleasure. Star-crossed lovers must endure eternities apart, and weak fool that I am, mere hours are unbearable. Jealous of a fantasy world that I can not compete with and lost in my own false imaginings of what it truly means when you are there. Angel wake soon for this madness threatens to take hold. Wake again and save me once more.

Oh, but it is a wonder for you to wake and grace the world with your beautiful smile. Thank heaven for that smile that brightens even my darkest hour. Your smile challenges the shadows before me and lays waste to the despair that is determined to pull me under. My darling, don’t let me down. Awake. My soul wages war on these demons in your absence. It is only whole once more when the dreams restore you to this life. I am yours, devoted and true. I will wait through countless nights and battle the phantoms of your mind. The day I leave is when time runs out without your return and the world comes down before me. Wake my love. Wake.

Sunday, February 14, 2010