Lit blog

[sophieloves]

Reason #427,692,311.

My author is coming over to pick up the first part of my editing job. And I can't give it to him. Why? Because I can't print anything. Why? Because my printer won't work. Why? Because one of those little elastic ponytail thingies fell into the paper holder and got pulled just far enough in by the rollers so that I can't retrieve it even though I tried any number of creative ways to coax it out. Why? Because in spite of my mother's voice that plays endlessly in my head ("a place for everything and everything in it's place"), I pile crap all around me until I can't stand it anymore and put it all away. That might take weeks. And if I hadn't carelessly pulled that ponytail thingie out of my hair the other night and dropped it in the most convenient spot (on top of the printer), it wouldn't have fallen in there. Now I have to either get this one fixed (way too expensive) or buy a new printer (probably cheaper).

My author won't care. He's totally laid back and won't mind waiting a few days. But grrrr. I could just kick myself. And I hate it when my mother's right. Why? Because she always is.

get a screwdriver

take it apart

you might save some money

and if you don't? you were gonna buy a new one anyway *shrugs*

go for it. or point and whinge, lol, to your SO? *grins*

 

[Guest]

My cat has discovered that watching me floss my teeth is fascinating. I'm not sure if she thinks the thread is for play and is waiting for me to stop tasting it and begin the game but each night and morning she takes up her position on the vanity to watch my every move. She knows not to sniff the toothpaste, very distasteful and she keeps well back from the sink. When I've rinsed she knows the show is over and jumps down, seemingly content to have been amused by one of those strange habits we humans have.

Tess, that tickled me. I think she might be thinking that too.

 

[Angeline]

get a screwdriver

take it apart

you might save some money

and if you don't? you were gonna buy a new one anyway *shrugs*

go for it. or point and whinge, lol, to your SO? *grins*

Yes I likely will try to take it apart tomorrow before I go in search of another. And my SO is totally unsatisfying in these situations because he is so loving and accepting lol. All he says is "buy a new one if you want, honey." Sometimes that man is almost too Zen.

 

[Tathagata]

And I hate it when my mother's right. Why? Because she always is.

I hear my mother saying when something she had warned about / predicted
happened to me....

" Do you think I tell you these things for my health?"

Mmmmmmmmmmm more Irish guilt please...with gravy

 

[Angeline]

I hear my mother saying when something she had warned about / predicted
happened to me....

" Do you think I tell you these things for my health?"

Mmmmmmmmmmm more Irish guilt please...with gravy

I was in a state of total annoyance when I wrote that. Can you tell?

Then my author came over and we drank coffee and talked about impatiality and awareness and samadhi (all in his book). Eh it's just a printer.

 

[Tathagata]

I was in a state of total annoyance when I wrote that. Can you tell?

Then my author came over and we drank coffee and talked about impatiality and awareness and samadhi (all in his book). Eh it's just a printer.

To quote the Buddha Lou Reed paraphrasing Gautama
" It's just a temp-a-rary thiiiiiiiiiing, baby"


How nice to have those conversations with a person face to face
I usually have them with myself while trimming my ear hair

 

[Angeline]

To quote the Buddha Lou Reed paraphrasing Gautama
" It's just a temp-a-rary thiiiiiiiiiing, baby"


How nice to have those conversations with a person face to face
I usually have them with myself while trimming my ear hair

He usually stops by on Saturdays and I make a fresh pot of coffee and put a plate of cookies out and we end up talking for two hours or more. He's a fascinating person who has been studying and practicing this stuff for almost 40 years.

Why don't you come by next Saturday. I bet he'd love talking with you. But leave the ear trimmer at home.

 

[Tathagata]

He usually stops by on Saturdays and I make a fresh pot of coffee and put a plate of cookies out and we end up talking for two hours or more. He's a fascinating person who has been studying and practicing this stuff for almost 40 years.

Why don't you come by next Saturday. I bet he'd love talking with you. But leave the ear trimmer at home.

Oh yeah, me on a Saturday morning, lava eyed from Friday nights traditional overindulgence and jacked up on coffee and sugar talking about eastern religion in your kitchen....pretty soon I'd be smoking Gitanes , rifling through your Cd's and sending you to the packy for Bass Ale and a bottle of Irish Whiskey

Remember John Belushi...the "Thing that wouldn't leave"?




( what kind of cookies??)

 

[Angeline]

Oh yeah, me on a Saturday morning, lava eyed from Friday nights traditional overindulgence and jacked up on coffee and sugar talking about eastern religion in your kitchen....pretty soon I'd be smoking Gitanes , rifling through your Cd's and sending you to the packy for Bass Ale and a bottle of Irish Whiskey

Remember John Belushi...the "Thing that wouldn't leave"?




( what kind of cookies??)

Sounds marvelous. The cds alone would keep you going for months. And then there's the guitars. You and ee? I'd be in blarney heaven.

Mexican wedding cakes and choco chip pecan. Sounds purty good, doesn't it?

 

[Tathagata]

Sounds marvelous. The cds alone would keep you going for months. And then there's the guitars. You and ee? I'd be in blarney heaven.

Mexican wedding cakes and choco chip pecan. Sounds purty good, doesn't it?

Sounds like a wonderful time

 

[Angeline]

Sounds like a wonderful time

It's a rare woman who looks at two wild, drunken Irishmen and sees literary salon.

 

[Tathagata]

It's a rare woman who looks at two wild, drunken Irishmen and sees literary salon.

it ain't a beauty salon

rare woman indeed

 

[unpredictablebijou]

It's a rare woman who looks at two wild, drunken Irishmen and sees literary salon.

I am not that rare woman, that's for sure. I'd be thinking far less literary thoughts. However, those ideas wouldn't be so vivid if they weren't both writers as well as wild, drunken Irishmen. So maybe I'm a teency bit literary, in my way...

bj

 

[Angeline]

I am not that rare woman, that's for sure. I'd be thinking far less literary thoughts. However, those ideas wouldn't be so vivid if they weren't both writers as well as wild, drunken Irishmen. So maybe I'm a teency bit literary, in my way...

bj

Well you can come over, too. I think that would be a great party, the four of us. Actually I'd like Tristesse and Tzara and Sara Crewe at the party, too. And darkmaas. And Wicked Eve. And DA. Wahoo! What a party!

And yknow it's my fantasy too, those wild two boys of Eire. They both love poetry and literature and music. They both play music. They both can yak up a storm. On the other hand, I know them both well, one really, really well. They'd probably end up pissing me off. Somewhere between the Bass Ale and the Magic Hat.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Well you can come over, too. I think that would be a great party, the four of us. Actually I'd like Tristesse and Tzara and Sara Crewe at the party, too. And darkmaas. And Wicked Eve. And DA. Wahoo! What a party!

And yknow it's my fantasy too, those wild two boys of Eire. They both love poetry and literature and music. They both play music. They both can yak up a storm. On the other hand, I know them both well, one really, really well. They'd probably end up pissing me off. Somewhere between the Bass Ale and the Magic Hat.

If you don't stop with that sort of fantasizing, I'm going to have to go make a call on the princess phone. Just quit that right now.

Besides, everybody always ends up pissing everyone off eventually. That's no reason to avoid the experiences. It's part of the fun.

c'mon. let's fight. then we can make up. Where's that parking lot thread?

bj

bj

 

[champagne1982]

It's okay. I'll be recuperating in the wilds of central Alberta. A party on crutches is no party at all, and an ACL graft is no birthday gift either. So, even though I could hitch a ride with poetTess, sara or even DM on my way east, don't feel bad about not makin' me a cake. One other thing, there shall be no dancin', only singin' and only singin' if it's not Dylan. I'll be wailin' the Knee Cuttin' Blues and it would be really good if we had a harmonica, spoons and a washboard.

Carrie, the Maple Syrup (Campbell) Shorty.

 

[WickedEve]

Hugo is totally different, yet much like me. Even now, there is that wonder. "I wonder if everything she's told me is true. Maybe the ex isn't dead and he'll show up one night and find me in his bed, fucking the mother of his children." I suppose I can understand a small portion of doubt. My doubt has shrunk until it's no longer large enough to feed a house cricket -- those noisy, trapped-in-your-kitchen kind of crickets.

I took bob bob's death box down from the top shelf. Hugo had already left, in a cloud of Marlboros, so there was no need to gather proof at that moment. Perhaps I just wanted to look inside and see if his passing was real. Maybe I, too, doubted my story. Photos (a black and white kiss) and marriage certificate (happily numb we were that day) and other items I had collected and saved for our children... for me. And there was the death certificate. It seemed odd to see old bob bob's name on one of those. Silly bob bob died of something horrible. I suspect most things that kill you are horrible. I died peacefully from pizza indulgence. Yeah, still horrible.

The box is back in its place and it makes me sick to look at it. Hugo can fetch it and dig through it the next time he's here, if there is a need.

 

[Angeline]

Hugo is totally different, yet much like me. Even now, there is that wonder. "I wonder if everything she's told me is true. Maybe the ex isn't dead and he'll show up one night and find me in his bed, fucking the mother of his children." I suppose I can understand a small portion of doubt. My doubt has shrunk until it's no longer large enough to feed a house cricket -- those noisy, trapped-in-your-kitchen kind of crickets.

I took bob bob's death box down from the top shelf. Hugo had already left, in a cloud of Marlboros, so there was no need to gather proof at that moment. Perhaps I just wanted to look inside and see if his passing was real. Maybe I, too, doubted my story. Photos (a black and white kiss) and marriage certificate (happily numb we were that day) and other items I had collected and saved for our children... for me. And there was the death certificate. It seemed odd to see old bob bob's name on one of those. Silly bob bob died of something horrible. I suspect most things that kill you are horrible. I died peacefully from pizza indulgence. Yeah, still horrible.

The box is back in its place and it makes me sick to look at it. Hugo can fetch it and dig through it the next time he's here, if there is a need.

I'm thinking of having this poetry party. Tath, Tesse and Bijou, Sara Crewe, Tzara, DA, Neo, Champ, Lauren, darkmaas (I added people since I first thought of it). And OT. I miss OT and his little wooden paddle hands lol. You can bring Hugo. If your mad poet friends don't scare him off, he's probably meant for you. What a litmus test.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

It's okay. I'll be recuperating in the wilds of central Alberta. A party on crutches is no party at all, and an ACL graft is no birthday gift either. So, even though I could hitch a ride with poetTess, sara or even DM on my way east, don't feel bad about not makin' me a cake. One other thing, there shall be no dancin', only singin' and only singin' if it's not Dylan. I'll be wailin' the Knee Cuttin' Blues and it would be really good if we had a harmonica, spoons and a washboard.

Carrie, the Maple Syrup (Campbell) Shorty.

I am totally makin' you a cake. And I'll bet we could convince a couple of the Irish boys to dance for you. I hear they're excellent dancers, if you give them enough room.

bj

 

[Angeline]

It's okay. I'll be recuperating in the wilds of central Alberta. A party on crutches is no party at all, and an ACL graft is no birthday gift either. So, even though I could hitch a ride with poetTess, sara or even DM on my way east, don't feel bad about not makin' me a cake. One other thing, there shall be no dancin', only singin' and only singin' if it's not Dylan. I'll be wailin' the Knee Cuttin' Blues and it would be really good if we had a harmonica, spoons and a washboard.

Carrie, the Maple Syrup (Campbell) Shorty.

Are you kidding? We'd set you up in a lounge chair like a queen. Let you judge the poetry slam (which DA would win cause he has the most experience). I have to unearth that blues name thread, Shorty.

 

[champagne1982]

Are you kidding? We'd set you up in a lounge chair like a queen. Let you judge the poetry slam (which DA would win cause he has the most experience). I have to unearth that blues name thread, Shorty.

Isn't the fact that you've called the winner before the contest something akin to insider info? I mean, if experience counts maybe one of the old (er) slammers would stand a chance.

eve picks topics, tess grants style and the rest of us will drink and get into a semantic discussion about are socks really socks if they're woolies or worn on a chin?

 

[WickedEve]

At one point, during the night, we were 69. Or 96 -- maybe we were backwards. I was confused. I think we divided ourselves and did a 34.5. Well, it was like sex-sitting-on-a-nun that we even did a 1 on 1. Hugo arrived, his stomach empty, except for the 3 or 4 Jim Beams and coke. He drove an hour on interstate to be with me. Stupid ass of a man. I had a talk with him, the kind of talk he'd get from his mama -- if his mama was concerned, yet cool.

"You drive!" he slurred. We went inside my house and, yes, I would be the one driving to the Cantonese restaurant. "I was tested. All day testing! And it's your fault." He refused to elaborate until his lips were properly kissed. And I refused to kiss until he elaborated. I kissed the stupid man.

Not 1, nor 2, nor 3, but 4 women. Some twat named Lisa, that he dated before me, called him for... oh, let's guess. Sex! Hugo didn't want to hurt her but he was honest about being involved with me. Bye, bye, Lisa. Then there was Roxanne. I call her that snatch, Roxanne. 5 feet and 90 pounds of blonde Roxanne. Getting a divorce Roxanne. In Hugo's office Roxanne. "I'll do anything and everything for you, Hugo!" Roxanne. Rooxxxaaannne! He kept it all business, while fending off her tiny snatch.

"Puhlease... anyone named Roxanne... Well, it's like being named Ginger. I bet she's a Ginger kind of gal. You know, like on Gilligan's Island." Hugo's hands covered his face, as he leaned back on the sofa. "Oh, god, I forgot all about Ginger. She came into the office today. Another test!"

Then there was Kelly. Phone number Kelly. "Hugo, you've gotta find me a boyfriend. Someone like you." So she gave Hugo her phone number. He handed it back and demanded that a note be written with it. Hugo gave me the note. "She wrote it to you." Kelly *phone number* I want your Hugo to hook me up. He talks about you all the time.

It was 8 at night, and in this Roxanne-sized town, shops and diners close early. I drove him, a man who had passed his tests, to the restaurant. The shades were half down, like droopy eye lids. We had an hour before closing. Over Hunan beef, I asked Hugo why he had come to see me and not taken advantage of all those opportunities. He's eyes watered and, yeah, the beef was hot and spicy, but there was more to it. He was quiet for a second, 1 second, while his eyes reddened. "Because I love you." I ate my meat and rice, a faint smile on my lips.

Later that night, after 11, after 69, I named his nipples and sunk my teeth into Roxanne and Ginger, and then... I decided that he was my man.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Isn't the fact that you've called the winner before the contest something akin to insider info? I mean, if experience counts maybe one of the old (er) slammers would stand a chance.

eve picks topics, tess grants style and the rest of us will drink and get into a semantic discussion about are socks really socks if they're woolies or worn on a chin?

Does that mean Evie and I have to abstain while the rest of you slide into drunken giggling? I protest m'lud!

(I'll pick you up on my way byafter Tzara hikes up here , just wave your crutch with something flimsy attached that way Tzara won't miss you.)

 

[DeepAsleep]

Are you kidding? We'd set you up in a lounge chair like a queen. Let you judge the poetry slam (which DA would win cause he has the most experience). I have to unearth that blues name thread, Shorty.

Say it better: A poetry cypher. There's no need for competition.

 

[Angeline]

Say it better: A poetry cypher. There's no need for competition.

Ok. But what's a poetry cypher? I don't know that expression. And Tess will have to get Denis Hale too from the left coast contingent.