How do I give a fuck?

[Angedesoleil]

~ I can't I'll edit this later. You have a friend who DEEPLY cares you take care of you and don't you make me worry about you Grumps. I need you to cry bullshit on me. I need to know you're ok I need to know you're still kicking up a storm and being the stand up you are. You give me hope and you make me stronger. You are the one on my shoulder telling me it's ok to keep kicking at the dark until it bleeds daylight. I've got a shit ton of dark in my life grumps... I kinda need you. Always will. So you do you but you come back here and tell me you are ok. Ok?

Who else is going to get grrr and abner and who the hell else will know EXACTLY when to make me say it for real. You aren't done grumps. I've still got a lot of growing to do .

Please.
~ Kiddo

 

[Bramblethorn]

But, when you wake me up just so you can claim my spot on the bed with your head on my pillows...

My cat sometimes miaows at me until I get up to see what's wrong, then immediately steals my chair. I fall for it every time.

 

[PuckIt]

My cat sometimes miaows at me until I get up to see what's wrong, then immediately steals my chair. I fall for it every time.

My three hooligans (pictured in my profile, whom I still blame completely and totally on Love. [I take the blame for Daisy. But, the cats are all her fault]) don't mess with me too much when I'm awake. But, when I'm asleep...


The grey one, Smoke, will come try to reach my face. Supposedly to nuzzle. But, while I was born at five minutes after midnight, it wasn't last night. I know this fucking game and burrow under the covers to hide. And he will walk on my face, even sticking his paw in my mouth. And just wait. Until I make the mistake of sticking my head out.


And he'll give me both barrels of a sneeze. ACHOO!


Then, he's content and will snuggle up and go to sleep while I'm still wiping my face.


Skeezix, the medium hair, will wait until I actually am asleep. Then she'll start poking at me with her claws. And if I make the mistake of having my face covered, but my ass is hanging out... well, let's just say there are still some things that will wake me up in a hurry, however deeply I'm asleep.

But, yeah. Daisy got me up that morning and I stumbled in the kitchen to let her outside to potty. But, when she didn't follow me, I cracked open a can and took it to her bowl. However, she wasn't there either. So, I went looking and found her curled up like that with her head on my pillows. She just wanted my spot.

Bitch.


Any road, I'm looking ahead at a bit of a rough week. Our anniversary is... was... the 12th. And we always took this week off to spend time together when we were still working.


So, yeah. I know it's coming, if it's not already here, and am fighting for control of my emotions already.


But, hey. Enough of that sad sack shit, right? The only reason it hurts so much is because it felt so damn good. And if I didn't want the pain, the only way to have escaped it would have been to deny the pleasure.


So, fuck it. I'm riding this roller coaster with my eyes wide open, my arms over my head, and screaming in delight.

What about you, turtle? You gonna be afraid of a little pain, or are you gonna ride this wild ride for every fucking thing you can get out of it? Live, laugh and love like there is no tomorrow. Because when you get right down to it, there isn't.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_q7HDWgiHE

 

[PuckIt]

~ I can't I'll edit this later. You have a friend who DEEPLY cares you take care of you and don't you make me worry about you Grumps. I need you to cry bullshit on me. I need to know you're ok I need to know you're still kicking up a storm and being the stand up you are. You give me hope and you make me stronger. You are the one on my shoulder telling me it's ok to keep kicking at the dark until it bleeds daylight. I've got a shit ton of dark in my life grumps... I kinda need you. Always will. So you do you but you come back here and tell me you are ok. Ok?

Who else is going to get grrr and abner and who the hell else will know EXACTLY when to make me say it for real. You aren't done grumps. I've still got a lot of growing to do .

Please.
~ Kiddo

Don't worry about me, Kiddo. My fight or flight short-circuited before birth.
Backing up to get a running start should never be confused for my giving up.


And, no. I don't always manage to kick those holes in the darkness to let the light bleed through. Sometimes I have to light my own candle.

 

[Angedesoleil]

I'm not good at lighting candles. Making good productive use of them yes... but I'm a kicker.
*breathes*
I still stand by my statement... I don't have that many friends to lose so... I'm going to continue being a pain in your butt. Gotta stay.

 

[Bramblethorn]

The grey one, Smoke, will come try to reach my face. Supposedly to nuzzle. But, while I was born at five minutes after midnight, it wasn't last night. I know this fucking game and burrow under the covers to hide. And he will walk on my face, even sticking his paw in my mouth. And just wait. Until I make the mistake of sticking my head out.

Mine used to drool into my nose, which is pretty horrific.

 

[CuckIndianHubby]

I'm not good at lighting candles. Making good productive use of them yes... but I'm a kicker.
*breathes*
I still stand by my statement... I don't have that many friends to lose so... I'm going to continue being a pain in your butt. Gotta stay.

Cute tent!

 

[PuckIt]

Sitting outside last night with my discount therapy puppy, a neighbor happened to walk by and noticed me out there. Now, Willard is a good guy. A truly decent man. And about the only problem I have with him is that when the two of us get together, we just can't seem to shut the fuck up!

If I had a nickel for every quart of ice cream I've carted home that would have been fine even with my slow ass taking a good 45 minutes to limp home, that then melted when we paused to say hello and launched into an hour and a half or more just swapping stories.

Any road, yeah. He worries about me. Unnecessarily so, I keep telling him. But, when he found me all put passed out about a week ago while I had the dog outside because I was fighting pneumonia...

So, last night, we were talking about this, that, and the other thing. And, I don't know. But, something he said sparked the memory of what I'd shared over here, and I reshared the stories of the four people I mentioned there.

I don't know. I don't pretend to be any great sage or philosopher. But, I think all too often, people make themselves unhappy by counting up all the things they don't have that they wish they did, and looking right past what they do have that someone else doesn't.

And I don't know. I'm probably making a hash of this.

But, I think it's no bad thing to desire to better your life and take steps to do it. And I think it's no bad thing to be content with what you have and are. I just think that if either is making you unhappy, you should do a bit more of the other than you are.

 

[barefootgirl69]

Very wise words, Puck.

 

[cookiecat]

I don't know. I don't pretend to be any great sage or philosopher. But, I think all too often, people make themselves unhappy by counting up all the things they don't have that they wish they did, and looking right past what they do have that someone else doesn't.

And I don't know. I'm probably making a hash of this.

But, I think it's no bad thing to desire to better your life and take steps to do it. And I think it's no bad thing to be content with what you have and are. I just think that if either is making you unhappy, you should do a bit more of the other than you are.

So much this.

I've reached a few firsts - birthday, our anniversary. In about a month, one year since he died.

It's the days leading up that throw me in a funk. Despair, even, for what I lost, omg - what he lost, his kid lost. ALL THE FUCKING THINGS WE LOST.

My new mantra: it is what it is. I can't change that he died. I can change me. My outlook. I am content with what we had, what he gave me, what we shared. A really big love.

I got that.

Thanks for sharing your stuff.

 

[PuckIt]

I was wrong. All along, I was wrong.

The best thing, for everyone involved, is for me to not give a fuck. I'm obviously bad at it. And I have hurt the one person that I least wanted to.

I won't be back. I will be contacting my internet provider to cancel my service.

Thank you to all of you who have given me so much support since I opened this thread. I am only sorry that I have once again proved myself to not be worth it.

 

[Angedesoleil]

~ I can't I'll edit this later. You have a friend who DEEPLY cares you take care of you and don't you make me worry about you Grumps. I need you to cry bullshit on me. I need to know you're ok I need to know you're still kicking up a storm and being the stand up you are. You give me hope and you make me stronger. You are the one on my shoulder telling me it's ok to keep kicking at the dark until it bleeds daylight. I've got a shit ton of dark in my life grumps... I kinda need you. Always will. So you do you but you come back here and tell me you are ok. Ok?

Who else is going to get grrr and abner and who the hell else will know EXACTLY when to make me say it for real. You aren't done grumps. I've still got a lot of growing to do .

Please.
~ Kiddo

Grumps.... not the way to go...really. shit happens. We make tge wrong call. Are you seriiusly going to leave me to sit here wondering ** again** ?? And what if it does go south huh? What if it does bite me in the ass. You wont even be tgere to yell at?
Cmon. You arent one to hide. You arent one to walk away. I shouldnt lose a frirnd out of this. You shoukdnt lose two.
Sleep. Eat. Dont go. Dont give me running start bullshit. Yes im mad. Yes im scared shitless. But i still say good friends are hard to find and you are one. Im not going to forgive it if you walk away too. You promised to not do tgat. Keep your word.

~ kiddo

 

[barefootgirl69]

Yeah! Like I said in my message


We need you!

 

[cookiecat]

You don't seem like a leaver. I hope you'll refunded. Your voice in the BDSM forum has been much appreciated.

 

[PuckIt]

So, Steve Perry after having to retire from music after shredding his vocal cords with too much touring, fighting off cancer, and despite losing the love of his life not too long ago, released a new song just yesterday.

*sigh*

Ok, Steve. I hear you.

 

[PuckIt]

So, Love's son and daughter-in-law are in town visiting me. And,... I don't know. The fact is that with everything else going on, this was really just not a great time. And I don't know but what the way I was stressed over everything when I posted on the 15th absolutely did NOT have at least a little something to do with our anniversary being the 12th and knowing they were coming this weekend. As a very brilliant young lady pointed out to me elsewhere, losing a spouse is going to color everything, even if you aren't aware that it might be.

*sigh* So, I don't know. And yeah, I'm still fighting the last vestiges of whatever it was that knocked me on my ass almost a month ago. Although, I'm leaning more towards bronchitis than pneumonia now. And, yeah. I'm well aware that being ill and being depressed can, and most likely did, form a bio-feedback loop with each making the other worse than it would have been alone.

So, thanks for the kick in the ass instead of the kick in the nuts I felt I deserved.

Any road, yeah. So, they brought their computers, fully expecting that we would play WoW, the same as we always have. And they even brought me a card for some game time.

Of course, there's been an expansion that I'd pretty well decided I wasn't going to waste money on since I just didn't care to see the first expansion since Burning Crusade without Love running it with me. *shrug*

But, you know how it is. The kids want it. You gotta be polite.

Tried logging in and, well shit. My little seven-year-old decoder ring finally bit the dust. So, I started trying to jump through hoops with Blizz to get that little feature off. And that shit is pretty well gonna make me live up to my nickname of "Grumps" given to me the day I was trying to sleep after working the night shift and our oldest grandson discovered the fucking antique butter churn. And after that was taken away, the fun throwing Jengo blocks into an empty five-gallon water jug. And after that was taken away, following Momma and "Granny Fish" (we had thirteen fish aquariums at the time ranging from three little one gallon Beta tanks up to two 55 gallon jobbers [and yes, I laughed my ass off about that for 22 years])into the kitchen, where they tried to keep him out of the cutlery by running a dowel rod through all four drawers... and the little shit figured out if he yanked hard enough, he could get it all out on the floor where he could get at it...

Never mind. Where was I again?

Yeah, so anyway, apparently Blizz and I are parting ways after being a fan boi for 25 years, but whatever.

So, I ended up sitting on my ass and watching the two of them play. And hearing the sounds of the game filling the room. And the ghost of my dead wife was sitting in the bed, only without her computer on the lap tray in front of her.

**crack neck**

Yeah. So, I should probably mention here that I'm not all that big a fan of voyeurism.

Er... well... not in that context anyway.

And I made what was probably a mistake in picking a place for foodstuffs. I'd warned them, trying to warn them off, that I'd been sick and depressed for the better part of the month and the house in general, and the kitchen in specific, would be condemned by FEMA if they saw it. But, they came on anyway.

And we went to a place we used to get chicken tenders from.

Now, see... the thing is that in my household, I made it clear that I only had three rules from the get go.

1) You snooze, you lose. (Sometimes referred to as first come, first served.)
2) If you don't do it yourself, you don't get to bitch about how it was done.
3) No illegal drugs or weapons I may end up getting dragged off for.

And, I'll just point out for the more prurient-minded that rule one was about food and such. Not sex.

Any road, so yeah. When we used to get chicken from that place, I would act an absolute ass and do everything but roll in it. Love, on the other hand, had a little bit of moderation. (Everywhere except the bed, but that's a different story.) And she would carefully save back some to eat on for the next day.

Er... Well, that was her intent.

So, I have a little bit of a problem with "Sleep Eating." For those that may not know, this is somewhat like "Sleep Walking" except it usually has the refrigerator and the bed for its waypoints.

So, yeah... the next morning, she would go check and see that she had one piece of chicken left. At the most two.

Being the definite better half, she would typically forgive me somewhere around supper time...

Any road, so we got the chicken. And I had three pieces. Thing 1 had, I think, twelve in the first plate.

Well, I just went back in there. And there ain't even one piece left.

*sigh*

I am well and truly repaid. Swear to God, I can hear Love laughing and saying, "Oh! Oh! I think I just peed a little!"

Last, but not least, color me strange, but I really, really, really have some qualms with logging onto Lit in general or the BDSM threads or dlg thread in particular with them hanging around and looking over my shoulder. Granted, he is forty-one, but there are certain conversations I still shirk from having.

But, yeah. I popped on for a moment to thank those that stopped by to kick me in my ass instead of the nuts as I thought I deserved. And, yeah. I'll still be hanging around to see just what needs a little Give-a-Puck as soon as I get the bottomless pit back on the road.

Any road, if you are reading this and have a burning curiosity despite my avatar and profile pic, I lost my mind and posted a dick pic (of sorts) over in the BDSM Faces thread to follow up the one gun salute I gave in the "How Old Do You Want to Be?" thread a little while back.

 

[PuckIt]

Way, way back in about '94(ish), Love and I were on the road to my sister's wedding. And we were talking as I drove. You know. As you do. Er, well, as we used to do before iPods and whatnot...

Any road, so we were talking about writing.

See, the thing was, I'd been a published poet for over a half decade by that point. And I was still writing. Quite a lot, actually. But, it was still mostly poetry. Actually, almost all poetry. With the exception of two short stories, I'd written for two different class assignments. And she was after me to write more, but less focused on poetry.

Well, I flipped it around on her. (Like I have a tendency to do.) And pointed out that she'd written a pretty damn good short story herself.

Honestly, to date, that short story of hers is still both the absolutely funniest and scariest thing I've ever read. It was a very meta story about her working on the assignment and deciding to do a murder scene. In the wee hours of the late night and early morning. While I wasn't home.

She started with setting the scene, describing herself locking up behind me as I left for work and settling down in front of the computer to get to work herself. Then she went on to describe the absolutely most horrific murder scene I've yet to encounter of a woman and three children down to a toddler in the crib, by bludgeoning them to death with a baseball bat. Through the murderer's eyes!
(I slept on the couch for a week. And not very soundly.)

BUT, she would break the story of the murder every now and then to describe something happening that would make her stop and check things out. A sound outside. The cat or dog (or one of the fish in the fish tank) doing something. And would describe freaking herself out as she wrote this horrific murder scene and things going bump in the night around her.

(And, yes. When I came home before dawn, I found her barricaded in the study with my wood sword near to hand and dark circles under her eyes.)

Any road, I was trying to get her to see that not only was her professor right, that she had a real talent for writing, but that she could easily spin it out into a novel.

Me being me, I started spinning out ideas just as fast as I could come up with them. And she got so excited, she rooted out a legal pad and started taking notes in shorthand. Caught up despite herself, and not least because she was much more a fan of the mystery and psychological thriller genres than I ever was, she would correct me and spin out her own ideas. And I would put some topspin on some of her ideas I thought were a little too predictable.


By the time we got to the wedding (that I'd been supposed to write a poem for and hadn't), we had entire novel well plotted and several scenes fleshed out. All jotted down by her in shorthand.


Back at home, later, she started harassing me to write the novel. And I just laughed and pointed out that it was her story and she should write it.

Well, time went on, as it has a tendency to do, and I actually did leave poetry behind and turned my attention to short stories, novels, and non-fiction. (Don't go getting excited. Except for five poems, all of my published works to date are right here on Lit.)

And I really couldn't tell you the number of times over two decades that she'd gotten after me to write her story. And every single time, I pointed out that it was her story and she would do a better job with it than I ever could. If she would turn off Law and Order and NCIS and Criminal Minds and Real Life Autopsies or whatever other fucking crime show she was watching and actually sit down and write it. And every single time, she would pretend to pout. And usually turn up whatever crime show she was watching.


*blink*
*the light dawns*
That underhanded, subversive, tricky little minx!

Sorry. Where was I?

Oh, yeah. So, she died last October without either of us ever having written that novel.

And, I had pretty well already forgotten about it. 'Cause like I say, it was her story. And I thought she should write it. Not to mention, I really didn't have any interest in writing it and had enough other stuff I was pretty well constantly working on.

Well, just... I don't know. Two weeks ago, I guess, that novel was brought (rather forcibly) back to mind.

And, well... I can't really try to make her write it anymore.

*sigh*

So, I don't know. But, I guess it looks like I'm going to be writing a Mystery/Thriller (of some sort) for the next little while.

So, how you doin'?

(And, yes. In case you are reading this and haven't gotten the memo, the bombardment in open forum, in Private Messages, and in my email has convinced me not to follow my inclination posted on the 15th. You guys win. I'm not going anywhere. So, chill already. At least about that. I'm fine. I'm here. Let's move on.)

 

[Angedesoleil]

♡♡ now does the chicken place deliver?

 

[PuckIt]

Sweet Serenade... or was it?

So, jumping in the time machine, there are a couple of songs that used to be pretty popular for a while.

Mr. Mister - Broken Wings
and
Journey - Open Arms​

Now, at the time, I had a pretty decent voice. Ok, false modesty aside, I made the all-state choir. *shrug* Don't get too excited. That was decades ago of five packs a day and then my Parkinson's affecting my diaphragm on top of it. (And, no. There are no surviving recordings that I'm aware of.)

Any road, my point is that I used to sing at the drop of a hat. Either along with what was on the radio or acapella. And I was not only not discouraged by innocent bystanders but was often asked to sing particular songs.

Well, as discussed elsewhere, I'd left Love behind for a variety of reasons that I've also made clear... Only, I was having a little trouble leaving her completely behind. And we would talk on the phone occasionally. And generally, she would ask me to sing to her before I ended the phone call.


Well, on the night in question, I'm not just real sure what happened. My best guess is that I must have been trying to decide which of those two hits linked above that I was going to sing for her. But, what came out of my mouth was;

So, now I run to you with broken arms...​

Needless to say, that was as far as I got before her hilarity ended that particular serenade.


Two decades later, she would ask me to sing "Broken Arms" from time to time. Or else, I would sense she was in a foul mood and would bring the tunes to cheer her up. I never bothered to recreate the rest of the song. I didn't have to. That one line would send her off into gales of laughter every time.

 

[Angedesoleil]

Slight side eye... and big smile.
♡ not getting *either the song or the story am I Grumps?*
Nods. You remembering happy works for me.

 

[barefootgirl69]

That made me smile, Puck.

*looking innocent *
I'm glad your arms healed so you can write.

 

[Nzerxx]

Hi Puck

I have just found my way here after seeing a couple of posts in the D/lg thread, that turned me into a bit of a friendly stalker and so here I am!

Having read this thread from the start I just want to offer you my condolences and even though you don't think it you are an amazing strong man

A quote I love is

Grief is the price we pay for love

Love the way you write

 

[LanguageOfLove]

Popping in to say hi, I always like reading your posts.

 

[PuckIt]

A Hard Year

It's been a long road. The last year has, in most ways, been the worst of my life. And, in a few cases, the best.


A year ago today, my wife slipped away from this world. (And I will neither confirm nor deny that as the clock ticked over to 0000 that I felt a wave of pain crash over and through me.)

Twenty-two days later, my step-mother joined her.

Just minutes before Father's Day, my father followed after.


Mere days ago, my baby sister told me that she'd had an emergency gall bladder removal. (Five fucking days earlier! But, that's neither here nor there.) And, when I happened to mention the neurology appointment she had been supposed to have about that time, just happened to let slip that it wasn't the MS they had been afraid it might be. (And just when the fuck did THIS become a question?!) (Yes, if she survives, I may kill her.)

There have been... a few other stumbling blocks. But, those were the big hurdles.

Back when I put on a jock strap, I was forced to run distance and hurdles. I fucking hated hurdles with a holy fervor. "Was it three steps then leap? Or four? Fuck!" *Crash*. "I'm 5 foot fucking 6, Coach! Why don't you have one of those fucking pituitary overloaded motherfuckers over six feet tall and still growing do this fucking bullshit instead of the shortest motherfucker on the team, Dumbass?!"

(And, yes. My grumpiness is not actually a product of age. Bite me.)

But, I have also had several sweet moments. Most revolving around Literotica.com and the people I've met here in the intervening year. A few outside of these digital halls.

(And let me just say that if you are reading this, you know damn well I'm talking about you. If it's even a question... *growl* Don't make us have to have a conversation that will end up making you cry. Again.)

Any road, I've picked up (or rediscovered) a few tidbits along the way.

1) The major difference between Heaven and Hell on Earth is the company facing it with you.
2) If you don't give a damn, who do you expect will?
3) A society, any society, is composed of the attitudes of its individual members. If you aren't part of the solution, you are at minimum a contributing factor to the problem.
4) You may catch more flies with honey, but there's always gonna be some sweet thing with a low taste for vinegar. (What the fuck? Seriously? I wouldn't put up with me!)
5) If you don't take care of you, you probably aren't going to be able to do jackshit when someone else needs you. If you don't care about them, then go right the fuck ahead and ignore your own self-care.
6) The surgeon general really needs to put out a warning that fucking with me about my smoking might be hazardous to your ears (at minimum). (Yes, I know what I said in #5. Bite me.)
7) Listening is important. Unless a woman is doing the talking. Then, you'd better fucking listen, watch, smell, feel, read the fucking barometer, develop ESfuckingP...
8) It ain't about waiting 'til the storm passes. It's about getting your feet wet and flipping the bird at the tornado coming.
9) It's always gonna be smarter to fight from the head than the heart.
10) Loving takes courage. Allowing yourself to feel worth being loved takes time. (More for some than others. *cough*)

Any road, I don't know. When I was a dumbass kid, I made the mistake of praying for strength, wisdom, and patience. I didn't understand at the time that to get stronger, you have to load progressively more on your shoulders until it hurts. I didn't understand at the time that true wisdom lies in knowing there is really very little you do know or the pain inherent in some discoveries. As far as patience... I'm still waiting for that shit.

I admit, I'm probably a tad bit sharper than a box of marbles at the moment. But, it felt right that I mark the year journey. And once more thank those that have had my back (or my arm) (or fucking carried me) along these miles of bad road. You know who you are. (At least you'd better, damn it.)

May the sun be out of your eyes and the wind at your back for a brighter tomorrow.
May all that you give be returned to you threefold.
And may you never forget to live, laugh, and love each and every day.

 

[Angedesoleil]

We love you too, Grumps. And Yes, I'm the fucking weirdo who eats lemons cause they are yummy.

I'm all seriousness, by my being open you've taught me ( and others) so much this year. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life.

****** kiddo cwtches******* cause cwtches are infinitely better than hugs. * nods*

Daddy is a bit busy today ( good stuff and sleepy stuff) but you know he is sending you love and thanks and offering you a beer.