God Only Knows -BBC

Recorded to promote the legendary UK station’s new channel dedicated to music, the words God only knows what I’d be without you mean more than ever as the performers sing over the gorgeous sounds of the BBC Concert Orchestra. The song is also being released as a single in order to raise money for the BBC Children in Need foundation, which is, quite literally, music to our ears! Watch the fantastic clip above featuring some of our favorite artists ever.

Read more: Watch BBC Music’s Star-Studded “God Only Knows” Cover | MetroLyrics

Carl Shops Online


When Carl sets his sights on a particular item; regardless of whether it’s a new toy, game, or even a broom; I think he plans in advance how to convince me to buy it for him.

He has a variety of negotiation tactics and rhetorical arguments in their pitch arsenal. If I don’t consent, he may go online and buy it himself. He uses my password with an explanation of benefits to me after the fact.

Bargaining is another strategy, chores in exchange for products is out of the question. If those tactics fail, he resorts to an age-old behaviour as an alternative strategy to get what he wants.

The broom is part of this year’s Halloween costume…why else would a a cat need a broom. oh brother.

Life Above the Mat – Civil Magic

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Life above the Mat, in the Launderette
At the Sultry Suds, it can be interesting,
Occasionally, enough.

I live above the Laundromat
It’s where I met my boyfriend at;
Where I meet all my friends,
My best friend too,
It’s where I fell in love,
Living life above.

It’s a place where we can share stories
And do more than just a load at time,
It’s a pub & suds if you’d like to pop in,
For some fun, sometime.

People come here to wash and buzz,
It’s close to where Jim Bob lives at,
He helps serve and drinks the malt and ales,
Helps for what ails you too, and anything else
If you might want to drink and talk about it.

Well, I have to rent a place, maybe it seems
I’m running out of room, but Jim Bob said,
“I could stay” or something like that
Stack it up if I wanted.

Jim Bob insisted…as long as I don’t interfere
With his sleeping. He gave me my own room, he did!
Give me a free demonstration how important sleeping is
Long as I stay in my own bed; its better he says
But, I didn’t know about things working out like that.

So as he insisted last night when he came by
The Sultry Suds for a stiff one, wanting to try it out
So we got to drinking and Jim Bob got to pouring,
Before long, we were still able to crawl out of there,
We just laughed.

Anyways, we went upstairs, and I sleep in my own bed
Occasionally he says, I can sleep with him
And I said, What am I suppose do I do with that,
And I’m not drunk, and I can’t sleep like a pretzel
Or something like that, I said.

“What do you think this is,” a brothel
Or some weird sex shop something like that, I said,
“I can’t sleep around, like that,
We’re not even married or anything

“Go for it”, Jim Bob said; “I won’t bother you…
I swear,” he said, You want to be my civil partner
And I said, “well I guess; alright then”
Maybe, I’ll try it out, I guess,” I said
But that was enough talking about it.

I just laughed and that’s all I have to say about that
Except that he wanted me to stay and be in a civil,
Whatever that means, long as I don’t have to move out
All my shit out, I said and no pretzel play
I guess it will be alright.

How about that, it’s the first time,
I’d ever seen anything like that,
I never been in civil with my own bed,
And that’s all I know about that.

So life goes on, Life above the Launderette,
It ain’t so bad, because I love Jim Bob,
And he loves me and it feels good too,
To have someone and something like that,
Life can be civil and magical
And we’re still laughing about that;
If you know what I mean….

Magic “Why I LOve You” ~ Day 127


Why is the magic of desire never satiated… and why does our love seem new and why do we feel so much; still so raw and so sensitive.

When do we become the eclipse an the solstice and why do I still long to make love in the mornings; to this passion that is yet to be revealed.

Wondering if we will ever, to be taken that way in the biblical way. Magical almost, and there is a sacredness in companionship of my beloved, and we are forever compromising.

It’s why I believe in you, and my door is always open; Hoping that you will not let me escape this passage; that it is a one in a million chance to have a love like ours…as if we had any real choice in the matter.

Truthfully my beloved, together; I believe there is enough magic here and between us. I want you in every way and everyday forthcoming. It’s why I love you so much; That I cannot help it; I love you, I just do.

Love Cat.

The one my heart loves…


All night long on my bed and I looked for the one my heart loves; I looked for him and I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares;

I will search for the one my heart loves.

So I looked for him but did not find him. The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.

“Have you seen the one my heart loves?” Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves.

I held him and would not let him go till I had brought him to my mother’s house, to the room of the one who conceived me.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.

Who is this coming up from the wilderness like a column of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and incense made from all the spices of the merchant?

Look! It is Solomon’s carriage, escorted by sixty warriors, the noblest of Israel, all of them wearing the sword, all experienced in battle, each with his sword at his side,prepared for the terrors of the night.

King Solomon made for himself the carriage; he made it of wood from Lebanon. Its posts he made of silver, its base of gold. Its seat was upholstered with purple, its interior inlaid with love.

Daughters of Jerusalem, come out, and look, you daughters of Zion.
Look on King Solomon wearing a crown, the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, the day his heart rejoiced.

~ Song of Solomon 3:4
New International Version (NIV)

All I have is love….


I just got here and all I know is that I have is; love for you and it’s inside of me and I can feel you and hear it too as if you were like music; the music that I love. Sounds of soft gradient whispers in this cool night air with blue eyes, soft tears; the night and the rain. Just us.

Its a love growing; its love glowing and changing tempo to the rhythm of long slow wet passionate kisses as if reverberating a lift, always wanting more sweet repeating.

Its about a symphony and the ballad and From here I can taste the fluid melodic memories. It’s a love song shared.

Such love is a grace with such thrills; the remains of a treble’s shrill with no end to a beautiful endless stream of melody. It’s so perfect.

I love to listen to guitars humming of harmony under the sheets: Wild, passionate and scattered; its about the delivery of the finish with after shocks of thought.

Thoughts of you playing all night as we drift between the rafters, where all I have is love…and it still lingers in the air.

The Artist Within

In this painting, there is an artist it reminds me of and I think of quite often and even though the years may change and the faces may change, I don’t think the heart really ever does.

Once you love someone, it remains within. And each time I look at it, I can’t help but feel reassured; that there is something more about it; that it grants me a certain peace.

This image on the canvas was created with hope with love, fascination and wonder and I see so much strength in your eyes… the way you get back up during those times when you feel like you’re out of rope.

I believe in you and I think we’ve got something worth fighting for…a dream that shall come to be. It may be a photo but it’s a part of the landscape; it’s my painting, a muse held so deep inside the artist heart that I don’t know where the art and artist begin or end.

All I know is I can see the man child becoming and that he means the world to me. I can see the paintbrush holding whispers as if it sweeps to the floor, fading into sunlight, stroking the face with such warmth as it slowly envelopes around each line.

Where all the colors of tension are held together, then slightly fading into shadows; where there is dark, there is also light too; a shining perfection of such, upon my beautiful muse.

It’s a perfect landscape; where the sea walls are not painted, there is no wallpaper here peeling at the edges and no floorboards creak; only cliffs and an ocean.

It’s about the shadow of you in the passage to who you will be in the entrance approaching ever so cautiously, but each step more hesitant than the next ever so quietly, as to not disturb the beautiful silence of the art within the artist.

Words Unfeigned


I think my mind has been locked with your soul. My heart has always been there for you but why do I feel blocked from your images. I see the truth and I believe and I won’t be held back no longer. Once I dream that I thought I was in love… I know I am.

It was the day you found me at your door that led me to find everything you didn’t want me to see. It was real and it was as if we hadn’t ever spoken, until now. The sensations are deep inside my wanting, causing me to write feverishly, beneath your hand. But then, you heard me whisper; “Teacher” and inherently, I saw your body recoil at the sound.

You took my hand probing the pen into the ink and into it’s warm, glutinous moisture, thinking of words so intoxicating leaving waves of inner excitement. Your inspiration surged through me, rendering me almost powerless, I was as if mesmerized, physically entranced by words on the page sounding like the songs you write in theorems of your own lyrics and I felt it with a pleasurable sensations rippling wildly inside of me…

Then you had taken my hand again and placed it on your pen, your own hand covering mine and enclosing my hand around it pressing down on the paper; I began to write once more.

I had compulsively squeezed tight, feeling the hot rigidness of the instrument giving slightly beneath the pressure, and I heard and felt you gasp excitedly against the sounds of my own heart beating, filling the room with a new air and a new light and then I realized surprisingly the power of words.

It was an anticipating thrill of delight that raced through me. I would never have dreamed that words could be so big, and with a pen so long and thick, that my fingers could barely encircle it! And then suddenly, I was aware that it was unfeigned; transforming; massaging the thick paper from top to bottom and in the same rhythm that you had shown me earlier deep inside my mind, and in my most receptive channel.

Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer ~ France -Vincent Van Gogh

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“The heart of man
Is very much like the sea
It has storms, it has tides
And it has depths. “
~ Vincent Van Gogh

June 1888 Vincent Van Gogh took a 30 mile stagecoach trip from Arles to the sea-side fishing village of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer on the coast of the Mediterranean sea. It is a spiritual place, said to be the place where Mary Magdalene journeyed with Joseph of Arimathea with the cup of Christ.

It was a place where Van Gogh was taken to recover from his health problems and to make some seaside paintings and drawings. At that time Saintes-Maries was a small fishing village.

In just a few days he made two paintings of the sea, one of the village and nine drawings. One of the paintings was Van Gogh Museum’s Fishing Boats on the Beach at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, which he described:

“I made the drawing of the boats when I left very early in the morning, and I am now working on a painting based on it, a size 30 canvas with more sea and sky on the right. It was before the boats hastened out; I had watched them every morning, but as they leave very early I didn’t have time to paint them.”

He capturing the light in the sand, sea and sky.The Sea at Les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer in which he sought to capture light’s effect on the sea. He wrote:

“The Mediterranean Sea is a mackerel color:
in other words, changeable –
you do not always know whether it is green or purple,
you do not always know if it is blue,
as the next moment the ever-changing sheen
has assumed a pink or a gray tint.”.

The fluid movements of his pen brings energy to the drawings, not intended to be a mimetic copy. Both his choice of the reed pen and the “placement of tiered-patterned strokes”, the dotted sky accentuates the clouds. Whitecaps are evoked by the vertical lines and horizontal lines portray the calmer sea in the distance.

Seascape at Saintes-Maries

“I wish to paint
a seaside painting of sand,
sea and sky.”

Fishing Boats on the Beach at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, 1888. Permanent Collection. Van Gogh Museum. 2005–2011.
The Sea at Les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, 1888. Permanent Collection. Van Gogh Museum. 2005–2011.