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My life is a nougat of creamy awesome surrounded by dark chocolate weird.



(I posted this in another thread, on another board, but felt it appropos of this one.)
 
I'm not feeling meaningful today. I'm not feeling strong. I'm not feeling like there are fingers at the ends of my hands, hands at the ends of my arms, arms at the ends of my shoulders. If I have these things, I could maybe hold onto what is about to slip away for I don't know how long.

Fuck, I'm selfish.
 
Chapter 2 of the Bad Haircut Story

Why did B-rad have such a silly haircut? I mean, some 37-ish roundish white guys who work for the phone company might actually look good in a short mohawk, but this cut was definitely not the best idea for B-rad.

B-rad, by the way, is pronounced 'bee-rad' and we use it to differentiate him from Brad, the famous bartender and in-house shaman of My Bar. B-rad will say he originally got the nickname in high school for being the first of his crowd to have "butt sex" (hence the B) with a girl. How to Become Famous Among Your 16-Year Old Male Peers.

Here's the haircut story. He's divorced and has a boy and girl he sees on weekends. The boy is 9-ish, and was dead set on getting his head shaved, a move that B-rad knew for a fact would NOT be okay with mom. Mom would, as it turns out, be okay with a reasonable mohawk-style cut, short sides, longer stripe down the middle.

The son was dubious. B-rad convinced him that it would be Just As Cool by promising that he would get the same haircut. Okay, then. So they go to the stylist, and the boy gets his haircut, but the stylist runs out of time to do B-rad.

Boy is dejected and disillusioned. He says, as they walk out of the barber shop, "I knew you wouldn't do it, Dad."

For a dad, them's fightin' words. So when they got home, B-rad went into the bathroom, got out the clippers, and gave himself a very silly but effective mohawk. Boy is overjoyed, Dad is a complete hero, and well, it'll grow out soon enough.

People are, well, occasionally very Worth Saving. Especially heroic Dads.

bj
 
Awwwwww thankyou Sassy and Pandora a whole year exposed to all you decadent, sweet (mostly) crazy talented folk it can only get better!
 
So I finally got around to putting the new shower curtain rod up. I picked up one of those curved units like ya see in hotels. Damn, that was the best home improvement I've done in a long time.

Trust me, if you ever shower with someone else in there with you recreationally, the curved style shower curtain is the way to go.
 
Homburg said:
So I finally got around to putting the new shower curtain rod up. I picked up one of those curved units like ya see in hotels. Damn, that was the best home improvement I've done in a long time.

Trust me, if you ever shower with someone else in there with you recreationally, the curved style shower curtain is the way to go.
Click to expand...

stops it sticking to your bum ?
 
So I go to take my son to occupational and speech therapy and his therapist says "I didn't know you were a famous writer!" haha on the famous part, I know the truth about that, but dang on the part that I was googled and outed by my kid's therapist who was just looking for information on a charity event I ran today (went very well thank you)

SO I googled my own self and was horrified to see the first hit was a poem that included fucking someone in the backseat in a church parking lot and the dude calling out for his dead mother, what the sick fuck kind of person writes that anyway. Dang.

Well, she seemed all smiley so maybe she did not really even read it.

Why did I not have the presence of mind to use a fucking pseudonym? I was all like, This is Who I Am and if fuck em if they can't take a joke. .... that argument does not fly when , well you know


My #1 google hit:
and this is when you ask yourself


Do I really want to tell you
about how
I
miss
my son
or why the grandchildren cannot come to stay here
because their father wants a dog
a vicious dog

Do you want to know my relative position to the moon
or do we save this for our sisters
our diaries
our goddamn therapists
because tell me
did you not mention the perpetual arousal

and didn’t I, didn’t I?

Can we save the oreos and milk
for snack and nap and
see how I hold hold hold back
oh the upper hand of the pause
save it save it pour your perversion over me
palm my head
call for your dead mother
mother!
No she is not coming no

And don’t you just want to save the middle names

and the eye color for the DMV baby
jesus you are hard
jesus
I am ready
Take me down to the church lot
you fog the back
I will take the front
shake my seat
with your pull and jerk
catch my hair in your mouth

as my skull pounds the head rest
stain my seats baby
come come
tell me what you feel
tell me what you see
back there
spread and naked

Our imperfect bodies meet somewhere
and crack like spit in frozen air
and baby skip it skip it
meet me in the hindbrain
let off your steam
 
normal jean said:
Im sorry :( I need to learn to keep my pain to myself and of course, not al men are misogynists. just the ones I know personally. sorry for shedding in here.

be well beautiful people, im crawling back into my cave.

:rose:
Click to expand...

hey move over.... I could use a little cave time myself :rose:
 
annaswirls said:
So I go to take my son to occupational and speech therapy and his therapist says "I didn't know you were a famous writer!" haha on the famous part, I know the truth about that, but dang on the part that I was googled and outed by my kid's therapist who was just looking for information on a charity event I ran today (went very well thank you)

SO I googled my own self and was horrified to see the first hit was a poem that included fucking someone in the backseat in a church parking lot and the dude calling out for his dead mother, what the sick fuck kind of person writes that anyway. Dang.

Well, she seemed all smiley so maybe she did not really even read it.

Why did I not have the presence of mind to use a fucking pseudonym? I was all like, This is Who I Am and if fuck em if they can't take a joke. .... that argument does not fly when , well you know


My #1 google hit:
and this is when you ask yourself


Do I really want to tell you
about how
I
miss
my son
or why the grandchildren cannot come to stay here
because their father wants a dog
a vicious dog

Do you want to know my relative position to the moon
or do we save this for our sisters
our diaries
our goddamn therapists
because tell me
did you not mention the perpetual arousal

and didn’t I, didn’t I?

Can we save the oreos and milk
for snack and nap and
see how I hold hold hold back
oh the upper hand of the pause
save it save it pour your perversion over me
palm my head
call for your dead mother
mother!
No she is not coming no

And don’t you just want to save the middle names

and the eye color for the DMV baby
jesus you are hard
jesus
I am ready
Take me down to the church lot
you fog the back
I will take the front
shake my seat
with your pull and jerk
catch my hair in your mouth

as my skull pounds the head rest
stain my seats baby
come come
tell me what you feel
tell me what you see
back there
spread and naked

Our imperfect bodies meet somewhere
and crack like spit in frozen air
and baby skip it skip it
meet me in the hindbrain
let off your steam
Click to expand...

At least it wasn't your therapist ..
 
annaswirls said:
SO I googled my own self and was horrified to see the first hit was a poem that included fucking someone in the backseat in a church parking lot and the dude calling out for his dead mother, what the sick fuck kind of person writes that anyway. Dang.
Click to expand...
I have to say, I thought you were being histrionic about this but, damn. Googled you and, yep, that one comes up One.

Ouch.

I don't have quite the same problem, as my name is apparently more common. I am a congressional candidate in Colorado, a retired journalism professor, retired governor (alternate spelling of my name), tour guide, communications director for the Libertarian Party. Nineteenth Century poet and theater critic.

Whole shitload of other things. You get the idea. Kind of depressing, actually. There's apparently a whole bunch of me who are more important than, well, me. Not that that makes any sense at all.

But, if you're concerned, Ms. Swirls, you should use a pseudonym. You mentioned one to me once, which sounded kind of like a bodice ripper Romance writer. I liked it.

Or you should not worry about it. If you're convinced enough about your brilliance as a poet, your career prospects as such, and/or not worried about What The Fuck Anybody Else Thinks as many poets are, then it won't matter.

Since I Care About What My Employer Thinks (and probably my wife and family and friends and neighbors), I am picking around disconsolately at pseudonyms.

Would "Biff Ryder" sound like me?
 
normal jean said:
Darling, my cave is your cave anytime, anywhere. ( and I do have a fave cave:D) In fact... yeah, useless tidbit coming up now... before the comet/asteroid killed off the Clovis people, they used the area for camping, umm, living, I doubt they called it camping. Such a nice little cave with a waterfall nearby, plenty of game meandering through. I wish I could go back and see them with my own eyes. i feel primitive and real, raw and naked when I am there. I feel alive when I explore places that our early ancestors inhabited. Would love to share that with you, someday.

:heart:
Click to expand...

Wow, you live near Clovis sites — that must be very cool!
 
Isn't raising a child an exercise in self-control and self-discipline? I'm betting that life after pregnancy was far more regimental than basic training. Cryptography would be neat. Are you good at puzzles? I love cryptograms and logic puzzles. Don't ask me a lot about math, I'm a left brain kinda girl...
 
normal jean said:
most people don't know that I enlisted in the Marines when I was 25. Took my ASVAB, got my score, I made a 93. Did all the paperwork, was ready to go when I found out that I was pregnant. I was told there were "options" but I had asked God for this child and had no intention to"option" her away. So, in a way, I feel as though God stopped me from pursuing something I had thought I always wanted to do.

It makes me wonder though. If I had gone in, had my baby, allowed hubby to raise her while I was gone, would she be different? Would I be different? I need discipline in my life, thought that was the way to go, obviously I was wrong. But when I see the news, about the war and casualties, I wonder, could I have made a difference? Would I have been a casualty and not even be here writing this?

The recruiter told me I would ( probably) be sent to Honduras, and probably serving in an area involving communications and cryptography.

The army has raised the max age to enlist three times over the past few years and every time, it is one or two years younger than my age. It wasn't meant to be, but I feel sort of cheated, I would have made a good soldier. I need to find a purpose, other than what I am right now, which is a waste of air, lol.

I do pray for our people over there, wherever there may be.
Click to expand...

Hello NJ. What a touching story. I'm sorry for you that things have apparently worked out the way they have for you. I feel your pain.
I served 27 months in Southeast Asia a million years ago, and I'm proud to say I never killed anyone. Rescued a few, but no one died by my hand.
Many years later, I was approached by a friend (another vet) who asked if my wife and I were interested in adopting a baby. Seems a young soldier at Fort Devens, the Army Intelligence school, was pregnant, and the Army gave her two choices. She opted for a career in the military. Gave her baby up two days after it was born--my wife and I took the child home from the hospital two days old and an instant family was created.
The military being as it is, and because she had chosen a military career, I was able to always know where my son's mother was, and could help him if and when he wanted to find her. Turns out her life as a soldier was long, gruesome, and empty. She found her way to controlled substances, alcohol, abusive partners (the military, you know?), and a whole bunch of other shit. Seems that she was branded by the men as a whore, a slut, an easy fuck, and then some not-so-nice things, all because she had gotten pregnant while single, given up the child, and gotten on with her life.
Upshot of all this is, last year, my son found his mother (turns out she lives twenty miles from where I'm about to move), and she is okay. Hated every day of her twenty-five (the military is a truly misogynistic culture--anyone who says different is either lying or has shit for brains--I know, I've been there), got out, got a pretty good job on the outside, and then one day her phone rang. On the other end was a really curious twenty-four year old musician who wanted to meet his mother. I came north to participate in the reunion, and the look on this middle-age woman's face when we met was unlike any I have ever seen, before or since.
Here's the thing--you made a choice, and it was the right one for you given the information you had at the moment. Life is full of those moments. You make a choice and play your cards. Sometimes you get a straight flush, sometimes you get flushed. If you are a certain type of person, you'd be doing exactly the same thing today--obsessing about the road not taken (you would NOT have died in Honduras--it was a lot safer, I believe, than 20 clicks north of Bien Hoa), and my experience is that I didn't make a difference, except in the lives of a few families--which is NOT nothing, but I can still do that today if I try.
Life is what it is. There is no "Over the Rainbow." Dorothy never really left Kansas, she grew up to run a small but very cool bead, incense, and good karma shop. If life sucks, grab it by the throat and say, "NO FUCKING MORE!!!"
If you want to make a difference, go out and make a difference. The United States the Republicans have left us desperately needs people who want to make a difference, and all it takes is a decision to do so. Whatever circumstance your family is in, make it better if it needs it. You have a family. I do (Thanks to a career military woman), and it sucked for a long time, until I made a decision and did something. Now it doesn't suck so much.
We love you here, NJ. You are talented, sensitive, caring, and strong--we see it not only in the words you write, but also, in the words you post. You have a ton of good karma flowing your way from a lot of good people here.
It ain't much, but it's a start.

Love from down the beach,
Anschul
:heart:

Was that too harsh?
 
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