Lit blog

[Senna Jawa]

senna -- [...]

you know in the past i have suggested that you should perhaps rethink some aspects of your public demeanor, [...] there has never been a question [...] just your interaction with others.[...]

patrick

Patric, I have joined Literotica in May of y2002. For all these years I was never ever the first to attack anyone personally--ask Eve or check the archives. This despite the fact that many times my character was assailed with no provocation on my part, I was met with snotty phrases like "remind me not to invite you...", the crudest epithets were thrown my way, I was even attacked on the account of my age, words were put in my mouth which I have never spoken, many lies about me were spread around here... Please, Patric, spare me an underhanded compliment and condescending treatment. I like friendly interactions but not at such price.

 

[WickedEve]

Eve, fix that typo, it's not "t" but "b" after "oo", right?

Regards, fellow-blogger,

Took me a moment to figure that one out. But yes, I could prop those on the dashbaord, too. lol

 

[TheRainMan]

Patric, I have joined Literotica in May of y2002. For all these years I was never ever the first to attack anyone personally--ask Eve or check the archives. This despite the fact that many times my character was assailed with no provocation on my part, I was met with snotty phrases like "remind me not to invite you...", the crudest epithets were thrown my way, I was even attacked on the account of my age, words were put in my mouth which I have never spoken, many lies about me were spread around here... Please, Patric, spare me an underhanded compliment and condescending treatment. I like friendly interactions but not at such price.

the compliment was not underhanded nor condescending. your presence lately has been different than i've ever seen it, but i do not care to debate history.

in any case, i am glad to have your presence and poetry here.

you add to the quality of this joint.

 

[WickedEve]

Patric, I have joined Literotica in May of y2002. For all these years I was never ever the first to attack anyone personally--ask Eve or check the archives.

Senna, you do occasionally piss off people. lol You're also a valuable resource.

 

[Du Lac]

Welcome to blogging Eve. I have been doing this for a couple of years on and off. Right now I am posting on MLP as a blog to help stimulate my writing soul again.

I loved your minute of life and thoughts. Thank you for sharing with your usual humor and edge of reality. I know what it is like to be a misfit and at times to want to fit in. Then usually when it happens ... I say screw this! Again, keep writing.
blessings
du~

Well, I still don't get blogs. Though, I guess it's not much different than sharing poetry, stories, images, etc. "Hey, I'm alive! Look at what I have to say! I'm here!"
Anyway, I'm going to blog right now and I'm sure I'll be sick about in the morning, but I'm full of starbucks and full of god knows what else.
After cheerleading practice in 30 some degree weather, I took the kids to the local hotdog/chicken/grease/heartattack hangout. There was another cheer mommy there--one from another team. I communicated with the cheer mommy and for once I fit in! At practice, the other mommies asked why I always wear black. Sitting in my red car, radio on, listening to 70s rock, big boots propped up on the dashboard, freezing my ass off, I shouted out at them, "If you ever see me in pink, shoot me and stuff me!" I don't fit in, but I give them something to wonder about. So yeah, that moment of fitting in at the restaurant was a big thrill. Like I really want to fit in... well, not often.

 

[DeepAsleep]

I have become, in recent months, a slam poet.

I hate slam. And I'm good at it. But I lose a lot, here in Omaha, due to an unwillingness to pander to the crowd...and also because the competition here is very, very good. They're honest losses, not cheap ones. the people I compete against have their shit together.

But.

If I compromised, if I wrote about things that were a little more cute, a little more inoffensive - if I wrote poems about how I loved girls like punk rock, or odes to pudding, instead of about abortions in bathtubs and working at the porn store (or love poems to a gay man, for that matter)...

Omaha, I think, is just not ready for me. We play at being liberal, but we still have the morals of a cornfield. I'm a shoo-in for the nationals team. I can't wait to see how I do there, see if I'm right.

I love the slam family, here, but goddammit, I want a level playing field.

Blah, blah, whine, piss, moan, life's not fair.

Gotta call my probation officer.

~d.a.

 

[WickedEve]

After he opened the box this morning, he called and mentioned the fur with wings. I sent my lover some birthday presents, which included a rather shabby looking card (that didn't start out that way). I found a (groan) Hallmark with a poet on the front--one dressed in black and painfully thin. I plastered the card against my hallway wall and kissed it like I meant it. The effect wasn't quite right. Kind of looked like old lady lip prints. You know, like some grandma or aunt with way too much lipstick on. Then I squirted perfume all over the envelope until it stained the paper. Oh, the fur. Well, I clipped a lock of... fur and tied it with a flimsy, pink ribbon. Okay, it wasn't hair from my head. I swear, I hate coming up with presents for that man.

 

[tungtied2u]

After he opened the box this morning, he called and mentioned the fur with wings. I sent my lover some birthday presents, which included a rather shabby looking card (that didn't start out that way). I found a (groan) Hallmark with a poet on the front--one dressed in black and painfully thin. I plastered the card against my hallway wall and kissed it like I meant it. The effect wasn't quite right. Kind of looked like old lady lip prints. You know, like some grandma or aunt with way too much lipstick on. Then I squirted perfume all over the envelope until it stained the paper. Oh, the fur. Well, I clipped a lock of... fur and tied it with a flimsy, pink ribbon. Okay, it wasn't hair from my head. I swear, I hate coming up with presents for that man.

He's a lucky man. My friend who was born in Detroit sent me a Tigers baseball cap...it was his, but had shrunk. It wasn't adjustable either. It perches on my hair, which sticks out beneath like a bale of straw. He also sent me a Tiger's T-shirt....but suggested it might need to be washed first. He was right.

I wear them as they were sent....I can feel the love. I'm sure your lover sees past the stains, too.

 

[WickedEve]

Tonight was the last game for my cheerleading, just-turned-nine-year-old daughter. A group of 6 to 10 year-olds cheer only 20% of the time. Another 20% in the bathroom (chronic diarrhea?) 20% of the time spent in aimless wandering. 20% in the bleachers, chanting, "Momma, Momma, Momma." And the last 20% is reserved for snacking. The football coach wants to know if the girls are going to cheer. We ignore him. Our team lost every game. But it's not really abut the players. It's all about cheering, snacking, and going to the bathroom.
Of course, as a single mom, with no help, I had to bring her younger sister along. The seven-year-old should be in one of those Hannibal Lecter thingies. I could wheel her over to the bleachers and park her. That's all I'm saying. So, while I'm feeding my youngest some fava beans, the eldest is crying because a 6-year-old called her gay. They both asked, "What's gay?" I had nothing to say, because nothing about the night was gay. I'm talking festive gay. It was more of a queer night--queer, like odd. And I'm queer for ever taking my children out of the house in the first place.

 

[WickedEve]

He's a lucky man.

I'm selling fur with wings on ebay.

 

[RhymeFairy]

Not enough time ....

Like Eve ... as a single mom, I just cannot find enough time in the day to get it all done. SuperWoman stole my cape and the tights, damned if they're not mine too ~!!

 

[WickedEve]

Last night, I undressed Lindsay Lohan. It was My Scene. Freckles and even a lined coat. I asked my daughter to treat her right. My Cher doll was never that bitchin'.

 

[annaswirls]

okay that Hannibal Lecter image is perfect, if you find one in child size, please set me up.

your gay gay queer queer word play is perfect.

I think your new genre might should be "Creative Non-Fiction" I hear it is the new black and you wear it well

Tonight was the last game for my cheerleading, just-turned-nine-year-old daughter. A group of 6 to 10 year-olds cheer only 20% of the time. Another 20% in the bathroom (chronic diarrhea?) 20% of the time spent in aimless wandering. 20% in the bleachers, chanting, "Momma, Momma, Momma." And the last 20% is reserved for snacking. The football coach wants to know if the girls are going to cheer. We ignore him. Our team lost every game. But it's not really abut the players. It's all about cheering, snacking, and going to the bathroom.
Of course, as a single mom, with no help, I had to bring her younger sister along. The seven-year-old should be in one of those Hannibal Lecter thingies. I could wheel her over to the bleachers and park her. That's all I'm saying. So, while I'm feeding my youngest some fava beans, the eldest is crying because a 6-year-old called her gay. They both asked, "What's gay?" I had nothing to say, because nothing about the night was gay. I'm talking festive gay. It was more of a queer night--queer, like odd. And I'm queer for ever taking my children out of the house in the first place.

 

[annaswirls]

I used to think life was not fair and that I was on the shallow side of the rainbow. The interesting thing is, the better I had it, the more I protested "NOT FAIR!" and it still happens, but not as often. I Think it takes a good long dose of self pity that comes from something REALLY sucking, a big big bad thing, before one can really see how lucky they are, how Not Fair might be right, but really how many people can claim to be on the side with the deficeit.

When my students would cry "Not Fair" I would sometimes lose my patience and say You are RIGHT it is not fair! You were born in the richest part of the richest country and you are healthy, smart, and perfectly abled and you did not do ANYTHING to deserve it. You are right! It is NOT fair.

I always had classes with kids with special needs, so we would have our conversation and work on examples of when equal is fair, when not equal is fair, when equal is NOT fair, when Not Equal is Not fair. For example, making a kid in a wheelchair run the mile in gym would not be fair.

When we would have modified assignments that were designed to challenge everyone at their level, every now and then, a bright kid would say "not fair" when he would see a word bank or other tool used to help out the kid who needed help-- and I would say to them, in private.... would you want to trade places with him?

so I try now, every time I feel like saying Not Fair! about my situation to count a dozen ways (or at least 2) why I have an unfair advantage in the situation.

At any rate, I am preaching and should shush and clean the house.

 

[WickedEve]

okay that Hannibal Lecter image is perfect, if you find one in child size, please set me up.

your gay gay queer queer word play is perfect.

I think your new genre might should be "Creative Non-Fiction" I hear it is the new black and you wear it well

I'm going in search of Lecter gear at Walmart.

I'm liking this blog thing too much. Though gettin' bloggy is like telling it all to your girlfriend, which makes you feel better, but you know she's going to blab it everywhere.

 

[Tzara]

Las Vegas

Things that were different about Las Vegas from six months ago:

• There is an area where a roulette table is set up with a video camera focused on it. There are no chairs around the table. Instead, there is a ring of video screens each showing a grid of numbers. The players sit in front of these video screens, insert a credit card into the machine, and indicate their bets by tapping the screen. They can watch the wheel on another, larger screen. Unlike players sitting around a roulette wheel, none of these players seemed to talk to each other. They merely stare at the betting screen.
  
  I assume the casino likes this format, because there is no delay between spins to cash bets.
  
  All of the seats at the video roulette were full. None of the standard tables I saw had many players.

• The casino floor now has cash machines everywhere. There have been cash machines on the floor for some time, of course, but these are different from others I've seen.
  
  They are termed "3 in 1" machines. First, they function as an ATM (for cash withdrawal only, of course). Second, they will do a cash advance against credit cards. The third function is to process a debit card transaction, in case "your daily cash withdrawal limit has been reached."
  
  They charge a $4.00 fee for use and dispense only $100 bills.

• The Virgin Superstore is gone.
  
  I had to shop elsewhere.

 

[WickedEve]

Hailey is the 18-year-old college student who tutors my daughter in math. Hailey is a proper, southern girl from further down south than Virginia. She says Yes, Ma'am way too much. And she's way too skinny, especially in that skirt and tight blouse and heels she wore today. It was cold and windy and there was Hailey, clicking across the parking lot, her skinny body probably trembling in her summer outfit. I told her to wear a coat. I insisted. Poor girl, away from home, away from her mom. She needs a mother to tell her to wear a coat--a long, puffy coat to cover her skinny 18-year-old body. She said, "Yes, ma'am."

 

[vampiredust]

I'm coming out of the closet:

that's right, i'm a nerd and proud of it

will be wearing a ultraviolet rose (digitally enhanced, of course) to show it

 

[RhymeFairy]

I'm coming out of the closet:

that's right, i'm a nerd and proud of it

will be wearing a ultraviolet rose (digitally enhanced, of course) to show it

so kewl ~

That's OK my friend. I'm a nerd too. Have been for years. Think I shall hide in this closet a couple more centuries before I show my true colors

 

[WickedEve]

~

A good wind, that blew mightily today, brought me an umbrella. Walking down the hill, I saw a perfect redness--round and bouncing--coming closer until Smack! against my legs. I asked the wind for other things, but only returned home with a red umbrella.​

I asked the wind for a man, but not just any man. I asked for one who could fix wooden things, and metal things, and things that make odd noises when I'm quite sure they should sound soft and easy. Often, I'm a strange woman, so being a strange woman, I lifted my arms to the wind and waited for my man to blow toward me like a butch Mary Poppins.

You already know that I return home with just a red umbrella. The wind blew mightily, today. It gave me a new umbrella. I'll use the next time I walk alone in the rain.


~

 

[WickedEve]

There are luxuries that come with working at home. I can look like shit. I can stop in the middle of work and take a walk. I can watch old horror flicks while working. Those 30s and 40s lukewarm-scary movies certainly do have some abrupt endings. I think over the years, the last few frames must have disintegrated. Or maybe the director decided that there was nothing more to say. Maybe he thought, "Why force a few more scenes just to make a 90 minute film?"

My old, high school, social studies teacher said I almost fooled him. "Miss Sandersausage (or whatever my name was back then) you nearly fooled me. It really looks like 800 words, but I had little Lester over there count, and it's 657. Quite disappointing for an A student. What do you have to say for yourself?" I told him that 657 words sufficiently covered the subject and that another one or two hundred words wasn't necessary. I argued how ridiculous it was to expect a writer to be verbose and to be more concerned with word count than with quality. Well, I said something like that. Just a bit less. Maybe I said, "I'm sorry. Please let me add another 500 words."

 

[WickedEve]

Halloween. School. First grade classroom. Party.
I saw her limping up the stairs, coming toward me, since she had to come toward me to limp into the classroom. I've seen her there before, and I remembered her, though she looks so much older now. She's 41 and I wonder how I graduated with a 41-year-old. This time, I speak to her. She smiles and tells me about her double mastectomy. But she's going to be fine. She tells me she's going to be fine. She has to see a chemo doctor soon, but she'll be fine. I decide we're still too young to die. I tell her about Mary's heart attack. Mary's 41. I mention my 15 years with diabetes. Then we take pictures of our kids. And we'll take pictures of them when they graduate together, some day.

 

[WickedEve]

Yesterday, I cried for no reason. Then I found things to cry about. I cried to rock music and the sun. I was driving my car in the country, listening to 70s rock, since--musically--I'm stuck in the 70s, most of the time. The day was mild, with the kind of blue-sky-no-cloud-no-jacket weather they're probably having in Heaven right now. I thought about a dead man and how he's missing perfect weather. Then I thought about buying him a headstone in the Spring, or after Spring, when the ground thaws. Then I started wondering about his body, or what's left of it. I guess he'll freeze and thaw, too. As I came into town, I quietly chanted, "scumbag, scumbag, scumbag" because sometimes he was. I wanted to be angry so I'd stop crying and ruining my makeup.

 

[Tzara]

My jaw bothers me. I tell my dentist. It pops some times, when I chew things. No, it doesn't hurt. No, it doesn't get locked open.

She puts her fingers on my cheeks, back near my jaw's hinge. Feels, probing. Open, please. Press, feel. Wider. Press. Now close. Press, press, feel. Does that hurt?

No.

Does it happen all the time?

No.

Your joint is inflamed. Do you grind your teeth when you sleep?

I don't know. I'm asleep. Maybe. Probably. I have a stressful job.

Take some Advil, she says, to reduce the inflammation. It isn't serious.

Then she says, Mine got locked open when I was in college, from eating a frozen Snickers bar. It's been fine ever since. She's still pressing at the hinge of my jaw. I don't eat those anymore.

OK, I think, got that. Advil. No frozen Snickers bars. Don't be stressed by work.

Two out of three, anyway.

 

[annaswirls]

They told me that it does not get cold down here, not until February. Cruel joke! I am freezing my ass off and our heater needs to be serviced, the pilot light lit. S. crawled in bed with us about midnight, squeezing between his parental furnaces.

I thought I would have more time.