bitch twitch

so give or take two weeks ago i became the proud owner of a twitch.

lower, right eyelid, 1 second intervals. 24 hours a day.

i felt the moment she {again like my cat i sense my twitch is a lass} commandeered my orbital socket.

a stressful telephone conversation; one better served me had i ranted and kicked rather than sweetly smiled and acquiesced.

a common coulda-woulda-shoulda jingle in my life.

*twitch*twitch*twitch*twitch*twitch*twitch*

my peeper beeper isn't overtly obvious, but a casting director did send me skidaddle after picking it up on camera.

what's going on with your eye?

ummmmmmmmmmm.....

my enigmatic sparkle? my fetching twinkle? my star quality?

couldn't i fill a niche like little people do? like heavily tattooed guy? super tan, wrinkled, old lady? i could be girl with fucked up, quivering eye.

the good wife should be calling any minute, right?

google {or as my mother calls it 'goggle'} says i need to relax and exercise.

yeah let me get right on that exercise.

for yesterday i was only able to get six hours of pilates and spin class in.

for now i'll make do with my quasi-quiet computer time; meditate into fields of dandelion peace and stillness.

om........

{lotus position, padma mudrā fingers, ujjayi breath, brain quiet, jaw soft}

dance party in my right eyelid.