wicked and that ain't so easy
 
"if there were but world enough and time..."

but there isn't.

so......spit it out.
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naturally curly hair
Posted:Oct 13, 2018 12:57 pm
Last Updated:Oct 14, 2018 7:45 am
402 Views
When you are fifteen, everything is so much more important. I would sleep with an orange juice can on my head with the rest of my hair clipped around my skull just so that I could have straightish hair but if I woke up to raining, I would curse, pull my already curling hair into pig tails and looking all of 12, mope my skinny, no breast self out the door, sure that life would never, ever be easy, wishing I was blond, buxom and two inches shorter. I was one of 4 should have been 5 kids second oldest, wicked smart head in a book, dazed with words, out of my skin with desire, looking for trouble, terrified that I’d find it.



My best friend kept me close to the angels, but my second-best friend showed me the dark side, the battle for my soul was in full swing that year, leaving me breathless, agitated, manic. Mama shooed me out of the house most days, my energy too much for her to bear unless I was reading, my grotty bike the noble horse on which I rode off to find…..I don’t know……..something, someone, approbation.

I would ride and ride through neighborhoods I didn’t know. This day I was riding by the Mystics, feeling the cars shoosh past me, my hair the most perfect hair it had ever been, sweeping silkily back in the wind., feeling beautiful, strong, alive. More than one bunch of boys shouted at me, and I the fierce warrior goddess ignored them all, filled with such power, such a joyous send of who I was. As the day wore on, I turned for home, pulling off the road to add a sweatshirt. A car with 4 boys pulled in, the whole area was now in shadow, my power suddenly gone, my heart pounding

There is no need for me to tell you what happened. It’s happened to so many of us, it’s almost tangential. Instead I will tell you of the things that seemed to matter to me most.

The birds stopped singing.

After, I walked into the lake, not sure if I would walk out but I did.

One more thing. One more thing.

I pedaled the whole way home standing up.

I was almost late for dinner.

My sister pulled a stick out of my hair at dinner.

later she drew a bath for me. later still she slept with me.

We never told my mom and dad.

I finally got my first period nearly 18 months later.

I became incredibly promiscuous, mean as a snake, and immensely popular.


My best friend stayed my best friend.

I let my hair curl.
22 Comments
#46 pARANOrMAL -DEJA VU
Posted:Oct 1, 2018 12:24 pm
Last Updated:Oct 1, 2018 12:26 pm
882 Views
My Da was a firm believer in the paranormal. As his bairn we sat at his knee, or cozied in his lap, listening to the stories of his childhood, the mysteries of the man in the rocking chair, the old woman in the window, the blanket that moved with nary a soul to pull it down. we watched Twilight Zone, not as a show but as a warning, a set of clues. My favorite books early on were Syfy and Fantasy but of course mama kept me grounded with the classics yet how I loved to soar beyond this small world.

I was nearly five, just waking from sleep on our annual early morning to miss the traffic trip to Maine and was gazing blearily out the window. I resented this early rising but knew my Auntie would be serving us pancakes halfway there, so hoped I hadn’t woken too early. As we swept along an old road, Da never took highways, we passed a field with cows, a farmhouse and then there it was.

A straight little brick house, all alone with green shutters. I screamed out stop. My Da reacted like I’d pulled string in him. He jammed the brakes and mama squealed as the car swerved off the road. I jumped out. I stood staring at this nothing little house, my heart pounding. It couldn’t be much later than 7 AM. Everything quiet. And from around back an old woman in overalls cam walking out. She raised a hand up. I wasn’t sure if she was saying hello or telling us to stay back, my Da beside me now.



“What, mib, what.”

“It’s mine”

“This place?”

I nodded

“How?”

“Mine,” I repeated.

The woman approached placing a hand over her heart. She called out, “Jane?”

My Da, grabbed me up and rushed me back into the car.

As we sped off, I looked back at the house. I knew the house, I could see all the rooms inside and which one was mine. Mama asked me what the hell I thought I was doing? I said, “my house. “

Da said, “Peg, the woman knew her.”

Mama said, “don’t be foolish.”

We had blueberry pancakes at Auntie’s house and I ate 4. Da went with Uncle Walter out to the barn.

By the time we made it to the camp, my sister was already grumpy, so I went down to the dock and sat tossing rocks by myself, waiting for someone to finish so I could touch the water with my body. I thought I was older in that house of mine. Probably old enough to go in the water all on my own.
17 Comments
this is what you get now
Posted:Sep 28, 2018 11:33 am
Last Updated:Oct 14, 2018 7:42 am
1196 Views

for all of you who support the RNC, do not contact me. ever.

if you in any way think that today was a win....don't bother with me, don't.

if political cartoons offend you, walk away.

if women speaking the truth seems uppity, well, you shouldn't bother with this blog or maybe with women.

if you think boys will be boys is a rationale for abuse.....

go fuck yourselves. I certainly won't

and seriously, if anyone thinks that God would support racism, misogyny, abuse, white privilege, economic inequality...……….then you have not read the bible.

and you really don't want to read me.
37 Comments
never miss a good TADA moment
Posted:Sep 17, 2018 1:19 pm
Last Updated:Sep 28, 2018 12:00 pm
1436 Views

When I was learning how to do polarity work I met a massage practitioner who was also learning but who radiated a level of energetic awareness that was astounding. Over the years she became my healer and when I was “stuck” she would unstick me and when I was pregnant, she massaged us both, a remarkable and giggly joyous 45 minutes every week. She’s younger than me and rather pita energetically, like something that would float on the wind but oh she has moved iron bound muscles with the softest touches until they just melt away, not able to resist her….how could they, no one can. She was here this weekend.

As we were sitting watching some comedy show, laughter filling the room, the comedian, name of Dell something, finished his act with a bit I call TADA. You really have to see the whole thing, but he runs across a homeless dude who tada’s him rather arbitrarily. It annoys him and then later in his act this same dude reappears for yet another TADA moment by stepping out of a bush. I swear I almost hurt myself laughing. You have got to love a good comic.

The next day, whenever something fantastical, off the charts bizarre, or so banal as to warrant a cosmic shake of the head happened, we would simultaneously do a stage TADA including footwork that would send us into paroxysms of laughter and those around us into that shuffle, “wide berth” walking with no eye contact. Delicious, we are so cute together.

Isn’t it just wonderful to feel in synch with someone in an exclusive little way, to have a tiny secret that does no harm at all but yummies us in the moment? We should all be 5 again at least once a week. It is so gleeful. We held hands and skipped off each time. Seriously, 5.

She lightens me up. She says I make her think more clearly.

What I find interesting is that combined we prattle on endlessly. Stories of our lives that lead into discussions of such broad focus unlike most conversations that tend to remain more one-dimensional or become more one dimensional instead of gaining steam. I was tearing off my bra as soon as we got home (do NOT deny you do the same). We were aimlessly chatting about breasts, sexual discomfort, segued to passion, religion fervor, with a toe into the occult, over to how intellect vs.passion, philosophical trends, some physics in there cuz that’s part of the way her mind sees world trends which fascinates me because she is all about astrology and energy and faeries…………good and evil, all while cooking dinner. 45 minutes of mind fuck blended into food prep.

I love this kind of conversation….grins. But really what I want is to have her live next door so I don’t have to wait so long to spend time like this, so relaxed at home with my friend, laughing like loons

Oh and TA DA you left your condoms here………..lmao.
19 Comments
#44 which is so much better than 45 SYmposium
Posted:Sep 5, 2018 3:06 pm
Last Updated:Sep 18, 2018 12:50 pm
1793 Views

I choose anything.

I write what I want and if anyone wants to read it, they do. while not that many do, I find myself content that some do and give me feedback and some give me really honest and open critical feedback which I particularly like.

I realize I an olive (acquired taste) and not all that sexy or funny. I okay with that.

I also a flaming liberal, a masochist, a romantic pragmatist and a damn good sreet fighter.

so, write whatever you want. it's your blog. if I like it, I will read it. if I don't, I won't. kind of like TV, yanno? but I will fight for you to have the right to write what you want to write, even if I find it offensive because this is America. and so if you don't like what I write, don't read me but don't step on my right to write either.

so, we're cool, right? okay then....WRITE.
18 Comments
oh, you know
Posted:Sep 4, 2018 12:50 pm
Last Updated:Sep 11, 2018 11:09 am
1787 Views

Treme is my binge right now. the music is wonderful even if the story is killing me.

s'okay though, in a funk so it suits.

in a while my healer from Texas will be here to align my chakras and beat my shoulders down a few inches......praise Jesus. hopefully she can open up my mind and heart so I do something other than fight.

primary voted today. got my sticker. get your sticker. seriously. get your damn sticker.

off to drive some more people to the polls.
my car smells like jean nate. gross
15 Comments
when the quiet makes you worry
Posted:Aug 15, 2018 2:31 pm
Last Updated:Sep 11, 2018 11:08 am
2484 Views
here I . right here
why does no one see me here
here is where I was a haiku for loss

last night I saw upon the stair.
a little man who wasn't there
he wasn't there again today
oh how I wish he'd go away

do you remember that poem from your childhood? it scared me then, it scares me now. I met a child today at a shelter who was about 18 months and had no words, not a single one. the biggest blue eyes and so limp. like a toy child, like the stuffing was missing. I took him from the mom who was busy filling out paperwork and held him against my shoulder rubbing circles on his back, then I put him down on my legs and started to move his arms and legs.

no one was paying us any mind because they were involved, but as I made noises and continued to stimulate, he began to engage. I pumped his legs and he reacted, I oooed and he made a noise, I held his hand to my mouth and blew on it and he was surprised. I picked up a fuzzy toy and rubbed t on his bare feet. I felt a bit like Dr. Frankenstein waking up the monster. I had no idea what kind of days this child had lived but he was in there. we see intense depression as young as three months ...failure to thrive, babies so thin, so withdrawn from the world.

being homeless takes a toll on everyone. Parents can't be great parents when their days are consumed with trying to find work, housing, or barely surviving with little ones on the street. babies learn to become quiet, passive, they don't demand, they just wait. older kids learn to fight, steal, for what they need. Fear is everywhere, blankets everything.

Remember your 18 moth old? into everything, a 14 hour chase to see who finished first you, or him. but these babies....you have to work to give them back that lil devil inside.

there is nothing, nothing more normal than a kid throwing a hissy fit. I see one and I give the mom a hug, pat the lil monster on the head and smile. it's when they're all quiet that I worry...…….yanno? hey at least my kid didn't do it here:

16 Comments
If...
Posted:Aug 13, 2018 1:41 pm
Last Updated:Sep 11, 2018 11:04 am
2811 Views

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream- -and not make dreams your master;
If you can think- -and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on! '

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings- -nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And- -which is more- -you'll be a Man, my son!
10 Comments
you've got mail
Posted:Aug 8, 2018 10:40 am
Last Updated:Sep 4, 2018 12:40 pm
2951 Views

which you will never be able to read ….HA

'BUT I have been on this site a decent length of time and have managed to survive their farting around with stuff . this time...….I just can't. I can't open mail, I can't respond to mail, I can't stand the little dot thingy where if you miss the delete suddenly you have a new friend. wtf.

is it prettier? meh

personally I like a cleaner less froufrou style. and how do they decide what's important anyway? how incredibly presumptuous.

fix the fact that words keep disappearing the in the blogs. that would be nice. smh.

sorry this is not really a blog - just a pissed off moment.
19 Comments
Benediction
Posted:Aug 2, 2018 12:12 pm
Last Updated:Aug 23, 2018 12:01 pm
3062 Views

I spent two days drifting through a land filled with emotion, laughter, moving easily up and down without wondering if there would be a slip or a fall or a moment of silence because shared silence is a comfort of sorts a breath taken to celebrate the presence, the present of the being together. Music always backlit the scene and sometimes drove us to move but more often to smile or shout no, no. and search for something less jarring to our perfection.

When you talk about everything nothing all at once the jumble becomes a sort of poetry and the silly becomes hilarity that would rival lucy and ethel in the chocolate factory. To always be so open to the warp and weave of words, to wallow like this, slatternly utterly relaxed with no thought of agenda but only of the flow It seemed to carry us onward from one moment to the next, without effort.

Food and candles on the porch, spotting pears in the tree that for some reason must be picked in the deep darkness. How lovely to watch, boneless, smoking as a hand reached into the branches plucking fruit I could not even see. Then six green pears on the table as we pondered what we would do. Cook them to spoon over ice cream, or simply admire them forever as they shone in the shadowy light.

Faces change as you stare at them, they dance from one face to another in light and shadow. I watched seeing more than one person before me wondering as I did which one was the one I found most real, most tempting to the eye, most like the soul I think I hold within me but drifting, I let it go. pieces to be assembled and not by me.

Time spent like this, with someone you love, you trust is deeply soothing. It feeds your soul. Reminds you that there are spaces where you can be where everything feels exactly like it should. Even when you are crying you are safe.
11 Comments
good questions...care to answer?
Posted:Jul 27, 2018 11:40 am
Last Updated:Aug 2, 2018 12:48 pm
3400 Views
Lists
17 Real-Life Would-You-Rathers I, a Woman, Have Had to Ask Myself
ISABELLA GIOVANNINI author

1. Would you rather have a career or a family?
2. Would you rather be perceived as likable or competent?
3. Would you rather be told to smile or to calm down?
4. Would you rather be called “Sweetie” or “Ma’am”?
5. Would you rather have a strange man lightly touch your knee or the small of your back?
6. Would you rather spend the rest of your life explaining why you don’t want kids or why you don’t want his dick pic?
7. Would you rather be “shrill” but finish your sentence or polite but interrupted by your male colleague?
8. Would you rather shoot literal botulism into your face or look your real age, you hag?
9. Would you rather breastfeed your child in public like a whore or feed your child toxic commercial formula like a terrible mother?
10. Would you rather be groped in a bus or groped in a bar, and also what were you wearing, you filthy skank?
11. Would you rather be blamed for your partner’s affair because you’re frigid and have too little sex or blamed for your sexual assault because you’re slutty and have too much sex?
12. Would you rather accept societal messaging that tells women they have to compete against each other for men, jobs, and who wore it better, or reject that messaging and support women, you ugly man-hating feminist?
13. Would you rather get your period, which is dirty and shameful and gross and must be hidden at all costs, or not get your period, which means you are not a “real” woman, whether that’s because you’re postmenopausal or you’re trans or you have a medical condition, you bloodless, barren, good-for-nothing crone?
14. Would you rather be vilified for your choice to have an abortion, you selfish, godless baby-killer, or become a mother in America, the only developed nation without paid maternity leave and one of only thirteen countries in the world where maternal mortality rates are rising, especially for black women, who are almost four times more likely than white women to die of pregnancy-related causes, but shut up about health care already, you entitled, hysterical, overemotional, elitist shrew?
15. Would you rather try to take out a loan for your small business, even though female-owned businesses get 4% of all money given out in small business loans and male-owned businesses get the other 96%, or try to take out a loan for your college education, which will probably need to be bigger than the average man’s loan because your family is statistically less likely to have saved money for your lady-education, and which you’ll have more trouble paying back than men do because you’re making 80 cents on his dollar — 54 cents if you are Latina — which means you can’t pay off the loan as fast, which means you accrue more and more interest, which means more and more debt, which means more and more trouble paying it off, which means more and more trouble accumulating wealth over your lifetime, which means a bigger and bigger gender wealth gap, but why do you women hold 2/3 of all outstanding student loan debt, you dumb, ditzy, irrational, hormonal bimbos?
16. Would you rather realize you’ve spent way too much time writing a list of Catch-22s women face in 21st-century America, but you could still keep going because sexism is all around you all the time always any time you step outside, or realize you honestly don’t even know where your own internalized sexism ends because this patriarchal society is the only one you’ve ever known and what if someday everyone of every gender and color was equal but also is that even possible given the entrenched forces of capitalism and the inherent selfishness of human nature and let’s be real right now it’s hard to imagine what that utopian egalitarian feminist society would even look like and you’re just so so tired, you frumpy, melodramatic, PMS-ing, bossy, ball-busting bitch?

i found this and was cry laughing by the end but that's because as a woman i get to so don't think you'll win any favor by snorking it up men. this is real shit. funny shit but real shit.



oh shit...……….we
18 Comments
44-45 equals negative one
Posted:Jul 18, 2018 12:05 pm
Last Updated:Jul 30, 2018 1:06 pm
3787 Views
if you have a free hour....check out Obama's speech at the Mandela tribute. it is well worth watching

https://youtu.be/md_l4u-1vRQ

and because we all need to remember the laughter

14 Comments

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Most Recent Comments by Others

Post Poster Post Date
this is what you get now (65)s2ndegree
Oct 18, 2018 1:01 am
naturally curly hair (40)christylovesfun
Oct 17, 2018 8:06 am
#46 pARANOrMAL -DEJA VU (17)rick315875
Oct 8, 2018 3:25 am
never miss a good TADA moment (37)christylovesfun
Sep 28, 2018 9:14 am
when the quiet makes you worry (31)kzoopair
Sep 8, 2018 11:18 pm
#44 which is so much better than 45 SYmposium (27)kzoopair
Sep 8, 2018 11:12 pm
oh, you know (26)kzoopair
Sep 8, 2018 11:05 pm
If... (20)kzoopair
Sep 8, 2018 11:00 pm
Benediction (13)SeaGirlFL
Sep 2, 2018 8:16 am
you've got mail (20)author51
Aug 28, 2018 1:47 am
good questions...care to answer? (32)kzoopair
Jul 30, 2018 12:51 pm