Lit blog

[DeepAsleep]

in which i speak callously, but mean my heart.

So, D and I have been taking it slow.

SLOW.

Tout doucement.

She's slept here, a couple of times (Or, rather, we've laid in bed until six am, cuddling and kissing and furiously avoiding sex.) and, you know, I make her dinners and breakfasts and we do the gazing excitedly into each other's eyes until someone blushes thing and it's all wonderful, but...

I have a boner that could slay a herd of buffalo. It is fair to say that I am unused to not sleeping with the person I am dating from the getgo.

Let's get right down to brass-bedposts. Neither of us is unaware that the other person is all aflame and shit. Enough urgent whispers have been exchanged between lovebites and some of the best hawt-makeout-action i've engaged in since I was fifteen (Or, rather, 'back when my boner could always slay a herd of buffalo") and in thinking that, I realized:

It's exactly like being fifteen again, except this time I have a brain in addition to hormones. And we do talk, don't get me wrong. We talk almost as comfortably as we share silence (<--which I like more than talking. Surprise! I'm quiet if you get me one on one.) - and it's nice.

Nothing's overcomplicated. It's all very simple - and that's a little unnerving. I'm so used to these grand, sweeping panoplies (sp?...fuck spelling, 'usage?' I'm feeling lazy, today) of 'love' (<--read that as, "OHMIGOSHGOLLY, I VANNA PUT MY VEENER INJOO!") that


Blah, blah, blah. I found something real and we're devouring each other.

And, now, i shall gush:

She said, I haven't wanted anyone else since I met you.

ee cummings said, Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Bazang!

 

[DeepAsleep]

....

and her oldest son says, via telephone, "My mom told me. It's cool. You got my blessing."

Ever thinking that this world is not a strange place that will surprise you in small but significant ways is an enormous mistake.

am i grown enough for this?

 

[WickedEve]

My Tuesdays are Hugo Tuesdays. I escape the front porch folks and molasses movements of town. For a while I escape Mama Donna, weary woman that she is. The drive is long. It's country and woods and winding. The miles are cows and red boards that were once barns and even a field of single engine planes. When I'm almost there, high on old rock, a hatchback slows me. The red Honda bulges with beefy passengers. Shoulders protrude from windows -- no space left for anymore meat. I slow down, drop my 77 mph speed, and take time to listen to Fat Bottomed Girls. I wallow in my mood, prepared to rape Hugo when I see him. But the drive is slower now and the music mellows.

I park beside his car and try to run past the dog, but it's Hugo who runs around the side of the house and growls at me. We become one, in a dorky fashion, clinging to each other, like only two desperate forty somethings can.

"Coffee." I nod. Hugo's coffee is always waiting on Tuesdays. Sometimes it's pretty coffee. I once told him that pretty coffee should have chocolate and kittens in it. He bought chocolate squares.

Coffee is a strong prelude to morning exploration. "Road trip!" Tuesdays are country drive days. Big adventure awaits us in a small world. I'm relieved when we discover the abandoned church. The motion of his car and the fact that I'm not driving around the curves, leaves me queasy. I quickly leap from the car and check out the door. No angel could break into this church, locked with a twist of rope around the knobs. We walk in a few feet and the next door is locked for real. Hugo says not to worry. He can pick most any lock -- when he has his "tools" with him.

I peek through the windows since I'm the tall one. I'm always the tall one. I see pews and not much else. The graveyard in the back of the church is a gathering place for cows, eating dead, November grass.

"You should have brought your camera." I want to scratch my empty hands. I should have brought my camera. We're not sure at first what we're looking at inside the tiny, stone building. Two doors are open on each side. There are wooden boxes, like seats, with wooden crosses behind them. It's an outhouse. Yes, this whole place has potential.

We make church talk all the way back to Hugo's bedroom, wondering if the next flogging and fucking will be across a dirty pew or behind a pulpit. Again we cling to each other. Soon I'm back on country roads, heading home, staring out of the window, fingers pressed to my lips, as I realize the horror -- blood running down the windshield, Hugo clinging naked to the wipers, eyes comically bobbing around. The horror could have been that intense, but the horror was my realization that I really do L... (I can't type it) Hugo.

He sends an email later in the evening to tell me that he returned to the church and picked the lock. "You have to see it. Handmade collection plates, an old lady thank you note from '58, and electric Jesus picture with its cord dangling and nowhere to plug it in. Cobwebs. My jacket was covered in them. This place has been abandoned for years."

I wish he would have waited on me. But even worse is Rutabaga. Rutabaga is his good buddy. He's a photographer. He wants to photograph our discovery, maybe fill the church with lights and backdrops and take nude and semi-nude shots. The Church of Rutabaga! I tell Hugo that I get first shot at the church -- our secret, private church that belongs to cows and cobwebs and no worshippers and probably no angels. Pews are for bondage and pulpits for pain. Don't look, Jesus! This will definitely be the church of no angels.

 

[Tzara]

....

and her oldest son says, via telephone, "My mom told me. It's cool. You got my blessing."

Ever thinking that this world is not a strange place that will surprise you in small but significant ways is an enormous mistake.

am i grown enough for this?

Yes, you are. You took the call, didn't you?

Adultishness is good, R. At times. Most times.

Some times.

Why you keep that ten-year-old you in reserve. It, like, pisses people off, which is always good.

Weirds people out when you spring it on them at 54, too. That's always fun.

Hey. Nice shoes.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Past days

...I felt lost, worried but didn't know what about. It's a feeling which is with you, it doesn't leave you, not even for a second, be it day or night, in sleep too. Finally I understood. I am grieving after the loss of Rybka. Grieving is not what I do but what is happening to me, it's a state. The sad news about Rybka hit me hard. May be if I write about it it will be easier? рыбка рыбка где твоя улыбка?

Wlodek

 

[champagne1982]

...I felt lost, worried but didn't know what about. It's a feeling which is with you, it doesn't leave you, not even for a second, be it day or night, in sleep too. Finally I understood. I am grieving after the loss of Rybka. Grieving is not what I do but what is happening to me, it's a state. The sad news about Rybka hit me hard. May be if I write about it it will be easier? рыбка рыбка где твоя улыбка?

Wlodek

I can only hope that the writing helps you through your grief. Realizing mortality sucks, I imagine it sucks even more the older we get, since that reality is closer with every now that we're stuck in the world.

Alan Alda Writes of Living for Now

 

[wildsweetone]

...I felt lost, worried but didn't know what about. It's a feeling which is with you, it doesn't leave you, not even for a second, be it day or night, in sleep too. Finally I understood. I am grieving after the loss of Rybka. Grieving is not what I do but what is happening to me, it's a state. The sad news about Rybka hit me hard. May be if I write about it it will be easier? рыбка рыбка где твоя улыбка?

Wlodek

can i call it lucky that i know those feelings you mention because i knew what mine related to straight away? i only wish i could have passed on the news in a kinder way, but i didn't know how. i am sorry you are hurting Wlodek, i wish too, that i could carry that weight for you, but i am struggling with mine.

i think no matter how much or how little we see of each other on Lit, it still is only a 'little' part of what makes our whole package. Rybka did many things from the kindness of his own heart, helped many people from around the world in all sorts of different ways.

one thing he loved doing was 'passing it forward'. if you want to do good stuff for others, then do it first. pass good stuff forward. what better time to do that than at this time of year when many people are stressed, tired, looking at a holiday season that for some is just plain hard work.

it was time for Rybka to rest. God chose the time for him. who am i to argue with God? but still, it doesn't feel like the loss is easier to handle. and argue i do.

you are in my prayers Wlodek. keep well.

and write more. *hugs*

 

[DeepAsleep]

drunk sincerity

.....

 

[champagne1982]

Don't be such a fuckin' coward. Angry protestations only prove that you want someone to stand up and tell you to stop acting like a prick. Pricks don't have to be polite, don't have to want more feeling than the sensations of sex, don't have to need someone to hold them when they're done, done all their fighting, done being a prick.

It's not weakness to admit failure, fear or feeling. Don't be such a coward. Life is too short to slam the door against love and hope. Don't let happiness fly away with the hawks on highway 75. Steer them to your door and let the wings beating in her chest fold along her body. Stroke those ruffled feathers and whisper how afraid of dying, unloved, you really are.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Don't be such a fuckin' coward. Angry protestations only prove that you want someone to stand up and tell you to stop acting like a prick. Pricks don't have to be polite, don't have to want more feeling than the sensations of sex, don't have to need someone to hold them when they're done, done all their fighting, done being a prick.

It's not weakness to admit failure, fear or feeling. Don't be such a coward. Life is too short to slam the door against love and hope. Don't let happiness fly away with the hawks on highway 75. Steer them to your door and let the wings beating in her chest fold along her body. Stroke those ruffled feathers and whisper how afraid of dying, unloved, you really are.

WORD.



Motherfuckin' WORD.

There is only now.

bj

 

[unpredictablebijou]

...I felt lost, worried but didn't know what about. It's a feeling which is with you, it doesn't leave you, not even for a second, be it day or night, in sleep too. Finally I understood. I am grieving after the loss of Rybka. Grieving is not what I do but what is happening to me, it's a state. The sad news about Rybka hit me hard. May be if I write about it it will be easier? рыбка рыбка где твоя улыбка?

Wlodek

If you write about it, it will not be easier, but it will be cleaner.

Grief is indeed a state, not an action. It is a lengthy transformation that happens in our cells. We witness it, but we do not have jurisdiction over the process. It is a metamorphosis, and one can really only observe and honor it as it unfolds. To write grief is to unearth it and rinse it clean.

My compassion to all who grieve now.

bijou

 

[champagne1982]

Don't be such a fuckin' coward. Angry protestations only prove that you want someone to stand up and tell you to stop acting like a prick. Pricks don't have to be polite, don't have to want more feeling than the sensations of sex, don't have to need someone to hold them when they're done, done all their fighting, done being a prick.

It's not weakness to admit failure, fear or feeling. Don't be such a coward. Life is too short to slam the door against love and hope. Don't let happiness fly away with the hawks on highway 75. Steer them to your door and let the wings beating in her chest fold along her body. Stroke those ruffled feathers and whisper how afraid of dying, unloved, you really are.

LOL I'm doing the schitzo thing and quoting myself, but that's because I've been thinking about this. I'm torn about leaving it here in case it's taken as a real chastisement. I don't want to come across as too harsh in what I'm saying and if I do, I hope someone checks me and has me do a time out.

Anyway, I wrote this with the intention that the reader would realize (as the clever vizieriess to the Nymph, upbj has already commented) that now is all we have and to throw what the present has given us in the trash , because of all the what-ifs we create, is pure folly.

Caring people don't do that and on self-examination if we can really say that we don't want the reality of this particular now, then we can apologize and regret that our gifts were not for each other in the next.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Again, unsolicited thoughts, so I'm okay being ignored on this.

Love is a state also. Not an action. A transformation, an offer from the world to participate in something immediate.

I'm a smart grrrl, not that young, and a poet. Like several other grrrls in here, I generally know a lot more about the asshole I'm getting involved with than he realizes. I choose to go there anyway.

I bet she already knows who you are and what you are. I bet she's not saying, oh, he did it before but he won't do it to me. I bet she's smarter than that. And here she is being brave enough to go there anyway, perhaps recognizing something that you have forgotten. Be brave with her. Be as brave as she is.


paraphrasing:

Zorba the Greek: The only sin God does not forgive is when a woman invites a man to her bed and he refuses.

Salinger:
After death, a writer is asked only this: Were all of your stars out? Were you busy writing your heart out?

It's just this, really. The idea that anyone anywhere is being too frightened to accept love, when it's offered so cleanly, agonizes me. I'd stay out of it otherwise.

With love, it's like this: One word, one moment, fuck the future, screw the consequences, live like you're going to be hit by a truck tomorrow. Whatever happens later is under the jurisdiction of later. Right now there is only now. One word, simple, terrifying, correct:

yes.

and yes and yes and yes.

nuff said. Except to add immense affection, hope and the best of all mojo and the sincere hope that I'm not overstepping my bounds.

bijou

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Maybe he's just a maudlin drunk.............

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Maybe he's just a maudlin drunk.............

Yeah. Me too. You should SEE the stuff I forbid myself from posting in here occasionally.

woof.

bj

 

[vampiredust]

My university held a creative writing day yesterday and it was the first time that I had read out one of my poems in front of a crowd. And they actually liked it. I'm pretty shy around people (groups of people really scare me and there must have been between 50 - 60 people there) but this has really helped my confidence. They clapped, cheered and whistled. I have never been so happy at a public event.

I'm actually interested in doing more of these readings. It gave me a good buzz. I like it when that happens.

 

[normal jean]

so many things I see everyday make me want to whip out a pen and paper and write . overflowing the pages with the euphoria of life I feel just by stepping next to the edge of that building.

I have a family there now, a group of blackbirds, not crows, they are beautiful and have begun to trust me. I feed them goldfish crackers and peanuts at break. They told me, in their own sort of way, that the building is where their favorite tree used to be. I understand that. I moved away from my garden, my trees and my hill of solitude almost 2 years ago. I feel as though I have a place with those birds, whom I have named for poets here. I hope this doesn't piss Tath off, but I named the leader after him. And there is an Evie bird and an Angeline bird, a T-zed and Miss Swirly.

we give this guy a ride to and from work everyday, his name is Bobby. His dad has some pasture land near the job site and has a huge black bull and 9 cows. Some of the cows just had babies recently. One morning, as we drove down the dirt road, I noticed the solid black, baby bull prancing around in the field. His mom was nearby and when he saw us, he stopped. But that was such a joyful innocent thing to see. Yeah, I knew in the back of my mind, he would be hamburger some day, but it was still beautiful.

I bought a new camera and took some pics of the babies and their moms. Last Sunday, we were supposed to work, but when we got there, the boss wasn't, so we called him and he didn't answer. So we decided to go to the pasture because Bobby said he could wrangle one of the calves for me to pet. I told him I would rather watch them playing than stress them out trying to catch them. But I guess he was still buzzed up from the night before because he and Mike got out in the pasture and walked the cows to the edge of the field.

But, when we tried to get near the black calf, the mom lowered her head and started pawing at the ground, slinging dust like a mad bull would do. We decided that it really was better to just look th and leave them alone.

The job has been great so far. We work for a company called Cimco, a refrigeration installation biz that Iw as told, was Canadian. Our superintendent is a Canadian by way of Bulgaria. An interesting man who says very little.

Usually, the jobs I work are shutdowns and the pay scale is basically the same. But on this job, it is new construction and subbed out, even some of the pipe work we are doing was subbed out to another company. Mike's best friend is the one who got him the job. Well, after they hired me, Danny got all pissed off and quit 3 days later. So far, 4 men have left the job because I was hired. I don't understand the ignorance, the way they act.

I didn't work with them, they had no dealings with me. One of them said he was a welder so he wouldn't have to work with women, we didn't belong in this field. With the rest of them, it was about pay. Cimco pays 3 dollars an hour more than the sub contractor paid, so they wanted a raise because they refused to work with a woman who made more than them. Oh well. I have worked some shitty jobs in my life, so I figure if I can get a job like this, even though it is hard and dirty, I can DO IT so they should mind their own business, right?

I hope they keep me on for years. There are several more of the Target Dis Centers that they have a contract for, but we dont know which one we will go o, probably Atlanta, for 18 months. SO far, they are a great company. I was out sick and missed 25 hours, last week, and they paid me for them anyway. and they hardly know me, lol. I feel like I finally caught a break in life, but I sort of don't deserve it, you k now? I keep waiting for something bad to happen like i t usually does.

Mike said the boss gave us the main lines, t he heavy pipe to run, just because they didn't think we could do it. I have some pics of what we put up. Ten inch schedule 40 pipe weighs approx 75 lbs per foot. We put in some 15 - 20 foot pieces, in the air. We had to cut out one weld and refit because one measurement was off. I spend a large amount of time prepping pipe. I cut it with a torch or band saw, then bevel it so it will fit against the end of the other pipe.

Okay, did any of you guys ever wonder what the hell you would use all that math for? I finally found out who needs rise and run, it is pipe fitters! If they had just given us hands on applications, I could have learned it. I am still having some problems with transferring a center line, but that is just because I am getting old and going blind, lol.

anyway...It has been so good to be back and peek in here. read the tooting thread and saw that there have been some great things happen. I am beginning to feel as though I might be done with writing for a while. That awful jerk I loved so much that broke my heart was my muse. even when he was being mean, or teasing, I could write, and write for hours when he was in my life, now he just uses my old screen names and only responds with an emoticon like this on yahoo when I message him. I love him and hate him at the same time..

 

[Tzara]

My university held a creative writing day yesterday and it was the first time that I had read out one of my poems in front of a crowd. And they actually liked it. I'm pretty shy around people (groups of people really scare me and there must have been between 50 - 60 people there) but this has really helped my confidence. They clapped, cheered and whistled. I have never been so happy at a public event.

I'm actually interested in doing more of these readings. It gave me a good buzz. I like it when that happens.

This is very cool, Chris. I was (am) very uncomfortable in public settings as well. When I was your age, I would likely have damn near fainted trying to read something in front of a group like that.

The interesting thing is that, if you do it, for whatever reason--whether its part of your job (my case) or school requirement or whatever--it gets easier and easier. What I do now is almost go into a pre-game psych-up mode and then pop up on stage for showtime. My personality changes from drab to, well, dull )), my voice gets louder, I bounce around a lot. Very un-me.

It's good your first experience at this went so well. It helps that you always have good poems to work with.

 

[Angeline]

This is how you know

you live in a small town. The following is taken verbatim from the current issue of our local, weekly newspaper.

On Sunday a young boy called 911, clucked like a chicken and then hung up. On being called back by the dispatcher, the boy once again clucked like a chicken and then hung up. Officers went to the address and spoke with the adult who had been in bed sleeping at the time the boy placed the call. The boy denied making the call, but the adult promised to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

Life in the slow lane.

 

[normal jean]

..............

 

[Angeline]

about 3 years ago, I was up late, watching a movie and heard sirens. The next day, on the news, there was a story about the person who was killed just down the road from my house.

He was a sheriff's deputy, with a new baby son, who was responding to a prank 911 call, only he had no way o f knowing it wasn't legit at the time. Good thing nothing that bad came of the incident you speak of, sis.

True. I'm glad that they respond no matter what cause you really never do know. Still it cracks me up that it's "news" here in my little town. My daughter dialed 911 when she was around two years old. She just picked up the phone and punched some numbers--and what are the odds of it being 911, but it was lol. My husband and I had no idea she had done it and when the cops came, we were stimied when they told us there had been a call and a hang up from us. Then we both looked at my daughter and burst out laughing.

Fortunately, the police were very sweet about it.

 

[WickedEve]

He blamed the turkey and I accepted that, but the truth was preferable. Hugo was content. He was content basting the turkey, fixing the faucet, watching The Quiet Man. He was content holding my hand and sleeping in my bed. He didn't need more. He didn't need to enter me. He was content and so was I.

But tonight will be different...

Thanks goodness.

 

[normal jean]

....................

 

[SweetMerry]

It's cold and rainy here today. I heard they got snow just south of us within the past couple of days. This is my third winter here, and I'm still getting used to the long stretches of freezing weather. White stuff falling from the sky is a strange and unusual event, which should only happen every seven years or so.

The guy who works the chair massage shift before me at my Saturday job just told me he's quitting. I'm not sure if this gig will dissolve after he's gone. But, if it does, that's ok. I'll just peddle my services at one of the local salons. They can usually use an extra Saturday therapist.

I had dinner with my mom tonight. She made chicken and dumplings in the crock pot, with garlic bread and apple sauce on the side. God bless her.

 

[SweetMerry]

I went out there, wondering what he was up to and found a new lap top in the back seat, along with a printer/fax, a router and a bunch of other computer related "stuff."

He really does surprise me sometimes.

Awww, how sweet.