Thursday, August 29, 2013
Dear Gentle Reader,
Miss me?
Oooh I missed you. The time just flew by but even when I was busy being busy I would think to myself, "I wonder how things are going at 12dots? Do you think that folks miss me at all?"
Then I'd try to make Twitter work like a blog.
Didn't really work out.
So I've been busy. Some good things happened (and some not so good things happened).
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Lol you've got to be kidding. You deleted that or did you rip it l... never mind.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NF5XU-k2Vk
ReplyDeleteI just wrote something and the computer ate it. Another jerk trying to do me a big favor.
ReplyDeleteI miss Newt. I really do. I'm straight and I know that she was involved with someone. I miss reading what she wrote. It was lovely to know that she was reading what I was writing. It was easier to write when I knew that she was reading. There is a particular kind of lonely when you write. It's solitary. I could start writing and an entire day would pass. I would crave alone to write and then I would crave company. It just needed to be someone who understood the binge purge nature of my social life. She was cranky sometime but then our emails would tumble over each other like ephemeral puppies. We were happy.
ReplyDeleteThen she was gone. Like a hurricane that came and then left. Gone
I'm not sure if I'll ever find anyone who would find me beautiful and love me. I'm not sure if I'd ever fall in love. Actually I pity anyone who did love me. I can be thankless and thoughtless as well. The insecurity is relentless. As much as I like think that I'm easy going and down to earth, I'm kind of a mess. I'm either avoiding people or I'm opening my mouth and telling them what I really think. I don't have Aspbergers. I just find myself in a place were I'm uncomfortable. Here people work hard. It can be difficult, physical labor. They pulp would or they work in the car plant. I write.
ReplyDeleteI tell people that I'm a writer. They look at me like, "Is that a real job." It makes sense. They're busy cutting down trees for a living and I sit and write poetry.
I did once have conversation about art and math with the guys who put in the cross fence. One of them asked about haiku. He wanted to know what it was. So I looked it up and wrote some for him. Emailed it but he never emailed me back. Later I sent some of them to a college in Kentucky hoping to get someone to let me in. They said to apply but that was about as much encouragement as I was going to get from them. It was lucky to have a reply.
I do care about someone. It's a he. I doubt that he'd ever know this because he's beautiful in a guy way and I'm not beautiful in anyway. He's the kind of guy who's ambitious. He'd want beautiful. Beautiful and you would be the lowest threshold. I'm not young. I used to hope that when I got older the guys my age would have mellowed. I thought that the young girls wouldn't want them and they'd look at me and say that I was more than smart personality. Now? They don't.
ReplyDeletellllll
Next Sunday they vote on the new interim preacher. He's just awful. Want's us to say "amen". I don't mind saying "amen" it's just that he's not said anything to say "amen" about. It really is pathetic. He's only preached two sermons and already he's rearranging the "furniture". I dread it so much. What's worse is that there's a small group of people who sit in the middle of the church who are saying "amen". I'm not sure but I think that they're relatives or co workers at the nursing home. All I can see is one long stream of stupid that's not worth writing about.
"Amen".
lllll
Along time ago, I asked to be able to know when a relationship was ending.
That's what was deleted. The passage about being about to know the minute things changed. That's why I was crying tonight. I felt it. It was like a cool breeze that moves over you face. You're sitting in the sunshine and then without warning that cool chill comes and you know that winter is coming. Tonight I felt it. I cried. With crying came the embarrassed feeling when your face flushes. You see I looked into the mirror and I knew. I remembered the conversation I had with my neighbor. He was telling me that he'd been married 4 times. The first wife was beautiful. She was a model and he'd met her in New Orleans. I asked him if he'd ever heard the song about the virtues of marrying a less attractive woman. He said yes. Then he said the thing that I remembered when I was looking into that mirror. "An ugly woman is a grateful woman because she knows that nobody wants her." That's why I cried.
I wonder if anyone would ever look at me and say, "You are beautiful."
It's not every thing in the delete passage nor is it quite as nicely written.
Please don't delete what I write again. You aren't saving me from myself or my words.
You're just being an Ass.
.
And now the honest truth...
ReplyDeleteI think that I'm in love.
This is very uncomfortable because I know that it's just not something to act on. I've decided to pinch myself everytime I see him. Or maybe I'm going to get on of those rubber band for my wrist. I'm not weird. It's aversion therapy. Everytime I see him and I get the twitterpatted felling, I just snap that rubber band. Eventually I'll avoid the feeling and go on my way. I just wish that there was some sort of spicket or a way not to punish this feeling. I wish that there was a way to divert it like a river to somewhere, something, or someone who was "thirsty".
I still remember that image or sitting in a chair in my best dress. The one with the full skirt and the blue ribbon around my waist. My hair was long and my shoes were patented leather. Shiney. I had this gift in my hands and I sat in the folding chairs lined up against the wall. I kept looking down at the package. The idea of looking at the other people dancing was just too much to bear. No one asked me to dance. No one wante the present that I'd bought.
No one wanted me.
I remember the photo. I was a cute kid. I never did know why.
I remember the first dance that I ever went to. It's a street dance when we lived on the coast. The band played a cover of Red Rubber Ball.
"...I should have known you'd bid me fairwell. There's a lesson to be learned from this and I learned it very well..."
And now we've come back full circle.
The band who sang was called The Cyrcle.
Who says that God isn't a writer.
.
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ReplyDeletePlaylist
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbDKN0dk54M
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4TOR7856d4
If you want to be happy for the rest of your life? Just marry the pretty one. You'll be miserable otherwise.
I hear I can always take up charity work or a hobby. Like sky diving. Fencing is pretty fun too.
:)
..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80Y3l0_1US4
ReplyDeleteCan't tell if I'm becoming a grown up or a cynic.
This is just stupid.
Snap.
.
Funny, parent humor and then really inappropriate humor.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQntRlIVNv0
Then a song.
Random
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeAtre3Bxg8
Dogs barking plus I like the song.
Bye.
.
PS
ReplyDeleteIncase you want to sing along
Elenor/The Turtles
You got a thing about you
I just can't live without you
I really want you, Elenore, near me
Your looks intoxicate me
Even though your folks hate me
There's no one like you, Elenore, really
[Chorus:]
Elenore, gee I think you're swell
And you really do me well
You're my pride and joy, et cetera
Elenore, can I take the time
To ask you to speak your mind
Tell me that you love me better
I really think you're groovy
Let's go out to a movie
What do you say, now, Elenore, can we?
They'll turn the lights way down low
Maybe we won't watch the show
I think I love you, Elenore, love me
[Chorus:]
Elenore, gee I think you're swell
And you really do me well
You're my pride and joy, et cetera
Elenore, can I take the time
To ask you to speak your mind
Tell me that you love me better
Elenore, gee I think you're swell ah-hah
Elenore, gee I think you're swell ah-hah
Hah
This is better.
ReplyDeleteScene from Pirate Radio
The Turtles Elenor.
I love this song and I love this scene. I really do.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpH7jtuN2V4
one more thing.
ReplyDeleteThis is 12dotsandablot.
A fiction writer's blog.
Fact and fiction co exist here.
If you don't know which is which?
Do not ASSume.
Ask.