shitholes
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Posted:Jan 12, 2018 8:51 am
Last Updated:Feb 14, 2018 12:24 pm
19876 Views
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i wonder if any other president has ever referred to a foreign nation as a shithole before and if that does not somehow make the USA a shithole while letting any/all other nations off the hook..........
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42
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mundane insanity
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Posted:Jan 9, 2018 11:06 am
Last Updated:Jan 16, 2018 11:22 am
15242 Views
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Having just spent weeks without a computer, I must say, it was not so bad. I did an enormous amount of reading some of it even good. My laundry is d, I ate regular meals and the house is clean.
This is not to say that having a computer makes me forget to be personally responsible, but it does give me an excuse to procrastinate. And any excuse to avoid laundry works for me.
Here, where I live, we are buried in a mountain of snow. It is beautiful. But so cold and windy that even the dogs are loathe to go outside. Mid blizzard I shoveled the front walk so Charlie could poop. Within an hour the winds had blown the snow into the walk and back on the stairs as though I hadn’t even touched them.
The difference between the mundane and the insane is often just step. The man who carves out his parking spot and places a chair there to preserve it, to the man who shoots a guy for taking it. step. I would assume that more of these steps are crossed in winter than in any other season. We have so much al time to ponder the irregularities of the world, to take inventory. And if we are brutally hst, we spend a good amount of time taking inventory on other people not on ourselves. Now, now, you’re saying, that’s not me. well of course not, I don’t mean you, I just meant them…all those other people. But I will include myself with them.
In the midst of reading this book about the autism spectrum, I was struck by the cleanliness of the way this saw the world. I don’t know whether it was right or wrong but it was very precise, and it had a reasoning that was simple and succinct. It made me feel as if I was taking all the joy out of my life by questioning every single thing I do or think.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Or rose a rose. or a parking spot is not worth prison time.
How do we accept the mundane and the insane and stay sane?
Hell, I’m drinking ice coffee and it’s -12 degrees outside………don’t ask me.
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13
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in lieu of presents
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Posted:Dec 20, 2017 7:44 am
Last Updated:Dec 22, 2017 1:48 pm
15670 Views
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for so many people, this season is a difficult one, not to be celebrated but to be endured.
for those out there who are surviving may I offer you.
a long restful sleep without dreams
a day of quiet forbearance
a moment of sweet memory that fills your heart and covers your face with tears.
a good Chinese Restaurant that delivers
a by your side
and if you are waiting as I am, I wish you patience.
God Bless Us Everyone.........
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15
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naughty or nice
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Posted:Dec 4, 2017 10:07 am
Last Updated:Dec 22, 2017 1:37 pm
14299 Views
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hohoho
at my age, being naughty feels nice.
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16
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Rites of Passage with a moron
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Posted:Nov 27, 2017 12:45 pm
Last Updated:Dec 22, 2017 1:27 pm
13793 Views
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On the way to my nephew’s wedding, we had to use GPS because it was in a small town in western Mass on a farm. If you know the area near Leicester, Spencer, you will understand there are no street lamps, very little that one can use as visual guides. In the full light of day, it’s lovely rolling country and the curving roads would make a motorcyclist grin with delight. At night the tree lines are only occasionally broken by lights from a home or a got everything store. We nearly died 11 times.
My brothers were there already which was a miracle, so I ran for the bathroom then settled into my ceremony seat.
Cut to the post ceremony….
DJ WHIZ…. swear to god.
A man with the charm of a glob of spit trying desperately to wrassle gleeful people into orderly groups. He was loud, AND he used a mike, through which he shouted, can you hear me?, hey, let me hear you say YAH on the average of once every three minutes. Resounding silence answered him, but was he deterred?. NOT THE WHIZZER. He just kept saying it over and over until a weary few said yeah, yeah, hoping he would stfu.
And who plays Alicia Keyes next to Travolta’s Staying Alive? That’s wrong on so many levels.
He introduced the Father of the Bride as Big Papa. Shudders. My Christian sister as Hot Mama. my brothers of course wolf whistled.
My nephew married a lovely woman named Becky. His first wife was also named Becky. His brother who was the Best Man gave a great speech in which he said, make this work because I doubt you’ll find a third Becky willing to deal with you. My family, laughed like loons. Her family was silent. If you’d been there for the first wedding and the fist fights……….you would have laughed, This was sedate. THAT was a free for all.
The Whiz, when it came time for the first dance, said…………raise your glasses to Micah and Meg. The Couple’s name? Josh and Becky. However, Micah and Meg (brother and sister) did dance, just to take the piss. As the night progressed and everyone got a wee bit drunk, Whiz included, he began to circle the room handing out cards, the bathroom was strewn with them.
Later, I’m out having a cigarette, and everyone is talking about what an ass he is…. turns out one of the smokers is his girlfriend. awkward. But I do believe she went back to the hotel with one of the groomsmen so maybe she traded up...with the Whiz, there was no where else to go.
tbh…. if you call yourself the whiz………. you’re asking for it, right?
PS My brother Bob kept going up to him with made up music titles. Bob is a musician, had all these references that were real, but the actual tune………nope. Whiz got so fed up with him he told him his stuff was old people music…. Bob was crushed.
Good wedding though. killer squash.
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10
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Book Club Gone Bad
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Posted:Nov 20, 2017 11:21 am
Last Updated:Nov 30, 2017 12:16 pm
13457 Views
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Never have I ever.
A party game best played with a group of hard drinking women who are getting to know each other.
If you haven’t, you are safe. If you have, you down the shot. This may be the one time your sexual history will stand you in good stead. I used to spend hours thinking up ridiculous things just to trap the girls who thought they’d be safe. It’s also a good way to find out who lies and what their “tells” are…. Jot them down in case you ever play cards with them later….
Now, even church going folk play this game though I imagine it’s a bit tamer than the one we played last weekend. And what you say? it must be true for you………. can’t name it if you can’t claim it.
I started with never have I ever voted for a republican. Figured none of us would have to drink but 3 did. HA. Traitors in our midst.
Next gal said, kissed a woman passionately. 1 of 5 drank. And we all celebrated a bit uneasily realizing #5 had a way to get us for a few rounds coming or at least cull the herd.
The night wore on, the questions became more intimate, sillier and sometimes downright caustic. At one point, someone said never have I ever lied. And I called foul.
Think back I said, as a .
Nope. We pooh poohed. She held firm.
Okay, as a , when a friend asked is my breath okay and you said yes when it wasn’t?
Nope. One of the ladies threw her hands in the air.
When a guy asks did you come? And it was enough already so you said yes even though you hadn’t.
AAAND BINGO, we had a winner folks. But not because it was enough already, because she didn’t ever come, ever. Wow. Flabbergasted. We stared. She blushed.
The tutorial began. Out came my bag of toys. Well, my GP bag of toys. One lady pooped out a lipstick vibe from her purse.
Never have I ever used a dildo, or a vibrator, or a plug or even the shower. By then, we were drunk randy and telling it all. From our first discovery of the nubbin to our most outrageous jerking off stories. Eventually, from the not so distant bathroom came the sound of my thunder vibe and a scream.
Then a raucous parade of women up and down my street waggling all sorts of bits and pieces. Luckily, no one called the cops and we scuttled back inside without intervention.
The next day, Jim the best neighbor in the world asked why the parade and I told him one of the women in the group had a bit of a break through and we were celebrating. A small parade for a big moment. He nodded. He is the kind of neighbor that appreciates without detail.
I think this group will work out well. Next time we may even remember to pick a book to read.
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17
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not sure........
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Posted:Nov 12, 2017 2:00 pm
Last Updated:Nov 18, 2017 9:29 am
13188 Views
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it may be a bit longer before i get back here. keep that light on, i'm trying.
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18
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snot
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Posted:Oct 29, 2017 11:58 am
Last Updated:Nov 12, 2017 12:49 pm
13724 Views
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What’s in a name? I grew up disliking my first name, my sister hers. We were names for great aunts and while we understood the significance and thanked the stars we hadn’t been named for Ethel, we also craved the names of our luckier friends. Now there were some lower on the pole than us who would have traded gladly like Irene, Gladys and Gertrude. Isabelle shortened her name to Issy and beat the crap out of anyone who dared call her anything else. All the boys had good old John, Joseph, Robert, Charles, Greg names except one who was called Shirley.
Poor old Shirley, named for his maternal grandfather and damned for 12 years of torture without pause. To top it off, Shirley wasn’t a jock or a big , nope. Shirley was a little guy, wore coke bottle glasses, lisped, and he ate his own boogers. Not much going for Shirley.
Our third-grade teacher was having an onsite nervous breakdown which we were all enjoying immensely. Cut up in class and she’d peg an eraser at your head……. good shot, too. Every time Shirley ate a booger she’d go green, peg him, leave the room, come back all wet faced. Thinking about it now, I guess she might have been pregnant. We just thought she was nutz.
one day Margaret my best friend who sat in front of Shirley, was reading out loud. I love to read but listening to someone else read will kill my joy fast, so I was watching ol’ Shirl.
He snagged a good one. But the teacher was eyes on, yanno? So instead of a mid-morning snack, he stuck it into one of Margaret’s perfectly glossy banana curls. Stuck his finger up from the bottom and it came out just clean as a whistle.
I am not a snitch. But if you knew Margaret, and how long her mama spent on those curls, and how people teased her sometimes cuz she couldn’t run so fast cuz of her heart and how she’d NEVER ever turn around and slap the bejesus out of anyone….well. I mean, it’s not like you can just not do something, right?
Later in the Principal’s office I was explaining why I had shoved Shirley put of his seat and grabbed Margaret’s hair. The Principal sent for Margaret. Her face was white, so white when she came in, but curious. Not a frequent flyer like me. She kept looking all around trying to find the whips and chains.
he told me to show him, I opened the long curl there it was. He left and his secretary came in with a wet tissue, got it out. Margaret took a look, started crying. Still not sure if it was because the curl was no longer a curl or if the IDEA of a snot that big travelling with her for a while just shook her up. Anyway, we left together.
Saw Shirley heading down as we headed back. Margaret, kicked him hard. I was stunned into silence.
Things change. Just like that.
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14
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coffee spoons
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Posted:Oct 22, 2017 3:15 pm
Last Updated:Oct 29, 2017 2:58 pm
14097 Views
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His eyes stung from a lack of sleep. The sour small of his body had ceased to offend him as he made his way to the sink full of unwashed dishes, pawing through it for a cup to rinse then fill. He scratched idly at the scabs on his legs.
Pulling a shirt, jeans from a pile on the floor he hooked them with a hand, stepped sideways, pissed into the foul toilet, poured a pail of water to chase it out, avoided the mirror, the shower. In a scant 3 minutes he was out the door, his hands in his pockets, back hunched, head down, he moved quickly. A shadow against the brick , a reflection in the glass, nothing more. Invisible almost though people seemed to sense him, move aside to let him pass. In his hand was a bent piece of cardboard.
Today was one of the first days that the sun had shown up in over a week. People were dawdling on their way to wherever., his pace was even, steady, skirting those who stood to relish the warmth, the budding of the trees, the gentle breeze spreading the sweet lilac scent over the sidewalk from behind the prisons of the gated houses. Swaths of lawn so green it stunned the eyes.
He took his place on the landing with all the others. Men in suits, dressed for purpose, silver containers of coffee rising, falling to lips pursed, papers folded, eyes carefully averted. All so studiously avoiding everything. Scanning the crowd for anything, his eyes stopped on a woman in a soft blue dress,leaning against a pillar, eyes closed as if seeking just a few more minutes of sleep. She made him wonder, was something here after all?
The rumbling of the train pulled her from her somnolence, stiffened her into nothing more or less than all the others, her face becoming ordinary, stern. his eyes jerked away.
As the train neared, he stood as they did, expectant.
Before it began to slow, the woman screamed.
“what Got him was Noth
Ing & nothings exAct
Ly what any
One Living (or some
Body Dead…
Could
Hardly express…" e.e. cummings
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10
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For Sir
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Posted:Oct 16, 2017 4:07 pm
Last Updated:Oct 29, 2017 2:42 pm
14634 Views
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Her hip would often slip out, but with a day’s rest, she’d be fine so it was for her not a major worry, simply a fact of life. as she relaxed under her favorite quilt, all her goodies beside her, her cell phone lit up with a text.
At first, she pushed back against the invasion of someone into this peaceful moment, not wanting to talk but it was Him and she could not ignore the need that surged through her just seeing his name. she texted a terse Hi.
Brat.
He never was rude in His treatment of her. Never wavered in his solicitude. And yet she tested him in small ways, in ways she knew were petty given the knowns. She disliked that in herself, found it distasteful but did it nonetheless; a chore almost. It worried her late at night when she sat smoking, waiting for the birds to wake. For a woman who was known for being generous of spirit, she had a spite in her that came out in curious ways at the oddest times.
His voice in her ear when he called changed all that. Like cool clean water slipping down a dry throat. It made her let go of anything but Him. It’s a gift to have a voice like that, a spinner’s voice. Takes the air, curls it round his tongue. No matter the words the sound alone carries you off. When it drops low, heavy, why it’s like a storm coming, the breath in you nearly stopping. Words scurry off to hide behind the sound of need rising.
Desire strong, deep, her smell already filling the room. Shameless . At her age. To crave, to beg, to sink the pain beneath the lust, His voice pulling her deeper into their world as she opened, as He used his voice to pull her to Him.
It is a magical thing to be in one place, your lover in another and yet for a time, to live in the same moment.
In the desire or the need, perhaps the desperation, to connect the infinite in each of you as one. The physics is enough to make you laugh, or gape in awe. Now just think about the sheer joy of it. my god, the joy of another body joined with your body, the energy, the trust.
How do I love Thee, let me count the ways.
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13
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feeling testy
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Posted:Oct 12, 2017 11:47 am
Last Updated:Oct 20, 2017 12:15 pm
14670 Views
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a short quiz. if you play fair, you may learn something
1. name your favorite animal now list three adjectives or descriptive phrases about that animal
2 name your favorite food. again, three adjectives that explain why you like it so very much
3. your favorite body of water. now three reason why it is so compelling to you.
please, before you look at the comments, have your answers written down. or there will be no purpose to this exercise.
i intend to wait a day before i explain the answers symbolism
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17
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welcome to the world
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Posted:Oct 9, 2017 3:04 pm
Last Updated:Oct 23, 2017 12:19 pm
14913 Views
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The shallow bowl held only four items. A hairline crack ran down the side, as it had for nearly 47 years. It sat in the same place, moved only when lifted by hands that prodded its contents just to set it down again.
Some things begin to be after enough time. they are no longer a thing, they hold too much within to be just an object any longer. Despite their use, they have transcended. Shh, it’s a secret only and dying people recognize, it’s a truth all the same.
Morning dew left faery handkerchiefs in the grass, the sun just now lighting on them, jeweled memories of the gatherings she is never woke to see. She sidestepped the little webs, holding her skirt high, careful not to break any. It would be a hot one today, already her curls tangled, began to crawl higher. By the time she took her place, her feet were wet.
To sit in a field of a morning is a strong thing. It’s breathing in life. Of course, the same can be said for a forest or the ocean. It helps not to chatter. When she pushed back against the rock, she was ready for the day. It would be a long one, no doubt.
When home, she slipped her hand in the shallow bowl and pulled out the amethyst crystal with the anemone inside it. Stepping outside, she passed the crystal through a faery web, slipped it in her apron pocket. It would cut the pain for the mother.
She tidied, read, made a batch of dough for bread, started her laundry.
It was nearly 3:00 when the call came. She decided to walk, the boy coming was still waiting for something. It would take a while.
She took the dough with her. Bread would be good for the family for supper; the smell might pull the wee one out. Her smile was broad as she set off.
image in first comment
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11
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fear - symposium entry - original
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Posted:Oct 4, 2017 1:21 pm
Last Updated:Oct 19, 2017 3:54 pm
15121 Views
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Fear is a strange thing.
I remember as a , my sister and my brothers, we’ would court it. There was a storage closet in my brother’s room, long and dark, angled to fit the eaves. we’d sit at the far end, away from the door, telling terrible stories about terrible things until one of us would crack, break for the door, all of us pushing desperately to get it open but the knob was slightly off, fought us, panic grew, the pressure of our bodies eventually forcing it open, slamming it against Jack’s bed as we flew out, down to the sun of the kitchen where mama stood ironing.
Home is a safe place to taste test terror. Mama would pour out some milk, hand out some hermits, watch us regain color, shaking her head.
Then, one day I came home from school, pushed the back door open to a quiet I had never heard. No mama in the kitchen, no brothers underfoot. The rooms I knew so well seemed to swell around me. what is an ironing board without the smell of hot clothes? i tiptoed through the silence like a comic book burglar, edging around corners. I climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. The door to the closet was ajar, I ran for my life.
I thought I tossed my jacket on the kitchen table when I came in, now it was hung on the peg. I called out for my mother but the sound of my voice seemed small, swallowed up. Tears burned my cheeks, I needed to know where my family was. Part of me was scared, part angry. I was little too. I heard a bangwhoosh, was out the door, up the driveway, across the street, sitting on the McClean’s stone wall, trembling in the cold, hands knotted in fists…. for hours.
When they came back from the store in 15 minutes, Mama spotted me. she left the boys in the car. She sat next to me pulled me over onto her lap, even though I’d peed myself. She carried me in like a baby. Once she had me in the tub, she did my hair. She let me yell at her.
Da sat me on his lap for dinner and I got two bites of his steak. Later, he showed me how the furnace turns on and off. Still, I went to sleep in my sister’s bed that night, turned on the bathroom light once Da went downstairs.
In the middle of the night, I snuck down, crawled under my parents’ bed. I did that for a pretty long time.
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To link to this blog (wickedeasy) use [blog wickedeasy] in your messages.
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