.
Note to self...
Work in progress. Subject to edit. Have folks here who are of the opinion that this writing thing is a lovely hobby but the stuff here, washing dishes and feeding the animals, is more important. Lucky me. There's always the refuge of a short story.
BBL.
(PS. sorry about the "romance novel" aspect of this story. I'm going to try hard to make it not so much. ")
Here's the short story and other posts that I did write today. Don't have much time. I'm fixing to be lectured on my lack of responsibility and those dishes. LOL
To begin?
You must remember that the sea is made of romance and is full of stories that begin with the words,
"Once upon a time...".
.
"...
"Dear "Husband of My Heart",
I remember.
The letter you sent that said for the first time the words, "Dear" and my name.
I remember.
Some memories are hard,
but they are our saving grace and now my refuge.
I sit here in this quiet house and I pray. A person can't help who they love. It is like the Sun breaking from Heaven. A gift. But the world and the responsibilities that we know, they divide us. They contrive to make us enemies in this world and the next. For days and months and years, I've prayed. Surely there was some way that my love, my friend, would come back to me. I never knew just how wide this ocean was until now.
I'm sorry. For what I have done to separate us, I am deeply and truly sorry. There's rarely a second that I don't remember.
Until the day that the good Lord is merciful and grants me rest, I will petition for our friendship. Perhaps this is just a test of our good and faithful hearts. That the will of our hearts be just out of reach of our grasp will be like that of Job, only a season. Surely the God who made love and mercy will look down from Heaven. See our steadfast hearts. Give usmercy. Since the time on Earth is short and our time in Heaven eternal, I'll keep this faith.
Til then, hold tight to the joys of this world.
Even in our sorrow, there is still Love.
Hold on to the ship's wheel. Make tight the sail.
I'll see you on the shore.
When you come home to me.
Your wife,
The Northern Star."
From the Log of the Northern Star, 23 August.
Dear wife,
The clouds on the eastern horizon are red tonight. We're restless and loaded with goods. Should we make it home, we'll be rich in silver and gold. No more worries. Still there's much to do. At the last port there was talk of pirates and now these red skies. I'll rest easy tomorrow or we'll have headed right into the eye of God. Only one hurricane I've seen. This ship is tight. She'll sail like a bottle on the troubled seas but with us loaded down in the hull, I'm worried.
I keep the ships log in a keg inside a bottle with a waxed cork. An address for you is inside. Each entry another letter I would send should I be able. I promise that I'll read it to you myself but if not someone on will find it and send it to you. Rest now and listen like I told you. When you go to the sea and your whole self is immersed in the water? You'll hear my heart beating for you there.
The Husband of Your Heart,"
Later, 23 August...
Wife, I have only alittle time to write this. The red clouds we saw are indeed a hurricane. We've joined up with the Ephemeral Sea in hopes of finding safe passage. Michael is in a state. Something about the captain being St Peter's emmisary.
Remember what I said. The heart beat you hear in the ocean is mine.
Your husband."
They found her on the coast. A keg tied to a rope wound round her waist. Her hair like seaweed. Her face serene but ghostly white. Inside the keg, they found the ships log and her letters to him, and a telegram to his wife ,
"Northern Star, lost at sea, found. Stop. Crew missing. Stop. Captain found tied to this keg. Stop. He's alive but barely. Stop. Instruction to send the keg to his wife. Stop. And to send his "...tired old carcass and the ships hold to "the Wife of His Heart" Stop
Because the words should be said..."
From the story, "Love Letters From the Ephemeral Sea" 23August, 2010, All rights reserved by the author. (Ironchassis/AuthorAnn/WriterAnn)
.
LOL We're all on a bit of a rough voyage, this life.
Note to self..
This passage
"...They found her on the coast. A keg tied to a rope wound round her waist. Her hair like seaweed. Her face serene but ghostly white. Inside the keg, they found the ships log and her letters to him, and a telegram to his wife ,..."
subject to revision. Honestly I'm not sure how to word this. In my story, I want this to be the reveal that the captain's wife in the letters isn't his real wife, it's actually the "wife of his heart". She's someone that he loves. She loves him too but circumstances beyond their control keep them separate. He married his partner's daughter to change him from "indentured servant" to equal. At the time he was all about the money and the "wife of his heart" was someone from his youth. As the marriage grew cold, his memories of this other woman grew warm. Before this voyage he went to her and told her that he was "undone" with sadness. She told him to go back home to his wife. "There is no way, " she told him, " to circumvent the will of God. Only the good Lord in heaven, could grant them mercy." Until then she would pray everyday that they would find some peace.
I'm just not sure how to word it so that this will be self evident in the passage above.
Just sayin.
I just read this story to WB. When he went outside he was full of, "you are responsible for more than just writing words on paper." He came back into where I was reading aloud this story. First, he made light of it. It's called "fly catching" in the theater. LOL When he bent over to get something out of the cabinet, all I could see was his rear end. I laughed out loud and told him that I finally could see his best side. He laughed and then grew quiet.
"Did you write that?" he asked.
"I did."
"That's sad."
Then he left the kitchen without the expected lecture. Left me alone to write.
Hugs, Gentle Reader.
It would seem that I am writing again.
This time with WB's blessings.
the lyrics by Al Stewart
"Oh you slipped away from the harbour side
In the morning bright and clear
And your sails were filled with the rising wind
And you laughed for all to hear
But you never glanced at the ragged dance
Of your lovers on the quay
Don't call on them when the winds rise high
On the dark and the rolling sea
Oh you set your course for the furthest shores
And you never once looked back
And the flag you flew was a pirate cross
On a field of velvet black
And those landsmen who you but lately knew
Were left stranded on the lea
Don't call on them when the storm clouds rise
On the dark and the rolling sea
Oh I have no need of a chart or creed
You told your waiting crew
For the winds of chance, they will bear us straight
And you spoke as though you knew
So you paid no mind to the warning signs
As you gave your words so free
Don't change your tack when the timbers crack
On the dark and the rolling sea
Now the thunder rails in the great mainsails
And the stars desert the skies
And the rigging strains as the hands of rain
Reach down to wash your eyes
And your oarsmen stands with his knife in hand
And his eyes spell mutiny
Don't call my name when your ship goes down
On the dark and the rolling sea"
LOL, look folks, I'm a writer. Okay. Before anyone starts trying to overlay their own bias onto this post? Please, this is a writer's blog. Fact and fiction coexist here. If you don't know which is which? Don't assume. Ask. Thanks.
Ironchassis aka Author Ann or as Saenz calls me?
Writter Ann.
all rights owned by the author.
.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Hmmm
.
"...The vessel is crystal clear.
Cylindrical.
Upright.
The contents opaque.
The color of piss.
She poured the words like beer.
Slowly at first down the side of the glass. She was trying to fool the stuff that it was benign. Three quarters of the way she lost her control of it and it showed it's true self.
"Lucky me." she said.
For even though it was fizzing there was still more of that upright vessel to contain it so that while you could enjoy the spark of it, you were spared the mess.
"Lucky. Lucky me."
..."
>
from MtnDew
23 August, 2010
AuthorAnn
all rights reserved by the author.
note I don't want confusion so I'll say that this is aka ironChassis.
No onfussion there.
"...The vessel is crystal clear.
Cylindrical.
Upright.
The contents opaque.
The color of piss.
She poured the words like beer.
Slowly at first down the side of the glass. She was trying to fool the stuff that it was benign. Three quarters of the way she lost her control of it and it showed it's true self.
"Lucky me." she said.
For even though it was fizzing there was still more of that upright vessel to contain it so that while you could enjoy the spark of it, you were spared the mess.
"Lucky. Lucky me."
..."
>
from MtnDew
23 August, 2010
AuthorAnn
all rights reserved by the author.
note I don't want confusion so I'll say that this is aka ironChassis.
No onfussion there.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Ghosts of Belfast
.
(Or how I learned to write a pidgen's smidgen of Html)
.
Here's the song... and the lyrics... LOL We're all on a bit of a rough voyage, this life.
the lyrics by Al Stewart
"Oh you slipped away from the harbour side
In the morning bright and clear
And your sails were filled with the rising wind
And you laughed for all to hear
But you never glanced at the ragged dance
Of your lovers on the quay
Don't call on them when the winds rise high
On the dark and the rolling sea
Oh you set your course for the furthest shores
And you never once looked back
And the flag you flew was a pirate cross
On a field of velvet black
And those landsmen who you but lately knew
Were left stranded on the lea
Don't call on them when the storm clouds rise
On the dark and the rolling sea
Oh I have no need of a chart or creed
You told your waiting crew
For the winds of chance, they will bear us straight
And you spoke as though you knew
So you paid no mind to the warning signs
As you gave your words so free
Don't change your tack when the timbers crack
On the dark and the rolling sea
Now the thunder rails in the great mainsails
And the stars desert the skies
And the rigging strains as the hands of rain
Reach down to wash your eyes
And your oarsmen stands with his knife in hand
And his eyes spell mutiny
Don't call my name when your ship goes down
On the dark and the rolling sea"
Oh how I love Magic Realism.
It's a dream where we take the time and try our best to make sense of wheat is often a senseless thing.
War and violence.
Love?
We try as intellectual beings to make sence of it. To predict it's coming but in the end it just is what you see in your dreams.
Random.
It's why we pray for God.
Some father or mother to tell us that in the end if we survive?
There is a reason for it all..."
LOL It's either this or doing the dishes...
Director?
First? Craig Ferguson since he owns the rights to the book...
but if he can loose hold of his ego?...
there is QT.
It's a violent dance, this book, in the wrong hands the movie could become just "white noise" violent. A cliche'. In the right hands, it would become the Dance Macabre of truth real and perceived.
The dark realities mixed with the light of humanity.
Opening scene?
Music from bar. the first part before the song "late again"...
guy at the bar.
sits down.
bartender walks up and hands him a drink
bar's empty but for the guy and the bartender
then he looks to his left and right
there are people to his left and right
he doesn't breath
just looks down into his drink
that's where he sees a glimpse of the most violent thing
just a glimps
and dark
the story begins.
no opening credits
just the story...
Old guy walking though a field at night. Full moon. He's with a woman and her son. She's singing a traditional song. A lulaby.
slow motion images. montage. of how she came to this story. A wordless explanation, a for telling, to answer the question why. In the background this song.
At 2:18 there's an instumental. Climax of opening story here. Irony in the fact that while the music is in a major almost upbeat key? The images are graphic and violent. While it's happening the old man, the woman, and the boy stand watching. Light reflecting off them like the light from a bonfire. And a bonfire it is. A split second vision of the "fire" and "the troubles" the "sang" in Belfast, Ireland, and the parts of Great Britain it touched.
At 3:08 they are walking back through the same moonlit field. Only now they're not in a black and while time. They're now in a color world.
The next song brings in the body of the movie...
the credits can go at the the end...
psrty on...
.
More music
(Or how I learned to write a pidgen's smidgen of Html)
.
Here's the song... and the lyrics... LOL We're all on a bit of a rough voyage, this life.
the lyrics by Al Stewart
"Oh you slipped away from the harbour side
In the morning bright and clear
And your sails were filled with the rising wind
And you laughed for all to hear
But you never glanced at the ragged dance
Of your lovers on the quay
Don't call on them when the winds rise high
On the dark and the rolling sea
Oh you set your course for the furthest shores
And you never once looked back
And the flag you flew was a pirate cross
On a field of velvet black
And those landsmen who you but lately knew
Were left stranded on the lea
Don't call on them when the storm clouds rise
On the dark and the rolling sea
Oh I have no need of a chart or creed
You told your waiting crew
For the winds of chance, they will bear us straight
And you spoke as though you knew
So you paid no mind to the warning signs
As you gave your words so free
Don't change your tack when the timbers crack
On the dark and the rolling sea
Now the thunder rails in the great mainsails
And the stars desert the skies
And the rigging strains as the hands of rain
Reach down to wash your eyes
And your oarsmen stands with his knife in hand
And his eyes spell mutiny
Don't call my name when your ship goes down
On the dark and the rolling sea"
Oh how I love Magic Realism.
It's a dream where we take the time and try our best to make sense of wheat is often a senseless thing.
War and violence.
Love?
We try as intellectual beings to make sence of it. To predict it's coming but in the end it just is what you see in your dreams.
Random.
It's why we pray for God.
Some father or mother to tell us that in the end if we survive?
There is a reason for it all..."
LOL It's either this or doing the dishes...
Director?
First? Craig Ferguson since he owns the rights to the book...
but if he can loose hold of his ego?...
there is QT.
It's a violent dance, this book, in the wrong hands the movie could become just "white noise" violent. A cliche'. In the right hands, it would become the Dance Macabre of truth real and perceived.
The dark realities mixed with the light of humanity.
Opening scene?
Music from bar. the first part before the song "late again"...
guy at the bar.
sits down.
bartender walks up and hands him a drink
bar's empty but for the guy and the bartender
then he looks to his left and right
there are people to his left and right
he doesn't breath
just looks down into his drink
that's where he sees a glimpse of the most violent thing
just a glimps
and dark
the story begins.
no opening credits
just the story...
Old guy walking though a field at night. Full moon. He's with a woman and her son. She's singing a traditional song. A lulaby.
slow motion images. montage. of how she came to this story. A wordless explanation, a for telling, to answer the question why. In the background this song.
At 2:18 there's an instumental. Climax of opening story here. Irony in the fact that while the music is in a major almost upbeat key? The images are graphic and violent. While it's happening the old man, the woman, and the boy stand watching. Light reflecting off them like the light from a bonfire. And a bonfire it is. A split second vision of the "fire" and "the troubles" the "sang" in Belfast, Ireland, and the parts of Great Britain it touched.
At 3:08 they are walking back through the same moonlit field. Only now they're not in a black and while time. They're now in a color world.
The next song brings in the body of the movie...
the credits can go at the the end...
psrty on...
.
More music
Friday, August 20, 2010
Think of it as..
...
The Muses' Tango.
A hot afternoon in August.
You're sitting in the garden, drinking tea and trying very hard to escape the heat.
The sound of the ocean below.
Nothing is working to cool you.
Then in they walk.
The smell of skin fresh from the shower.
The sound off their tongue, sweet.
You stretch out on the hammock and listen to the sound of their voice.
Not a drone.
No.
The breeze they form as their words rise and fall cools you.
Their words are soft and cool against your skin.
"Once a long time ago..."
.
.
.
The Muses' Tango.
A hot afternoon in August.
You're sitting in the garden, drinking tea and trying very hard to escape the heat.
The sound of the ocean below.
Nothing is working to cool you.
Then in they walk.
The smell of skin fresh from the shower.
The sound off their tongue, sweet.
You stretch out on the hammock and listen to the sound of their voice.
Not a drone.
No.
The breeze they form as their words rise and fall cools you.
Their words are soft and cool against your skin.
"Once a long time ago..."
.
.
.
The Muses Tango...
.
20 August, 2010
"He walked in.
Tired.
Hot.
One tequilla sitting in the dark.
Blinds drawn against the white hot.
The fan on the ceiling slowing to a drone.
They didn't have to touch each other to know.
You could feel the heat.
The Muses tango.
Like good sex.
They walked to the beach without a word.
Then into the Gulf.
Drunk on tequilla and the heat.
Back and forth in the salt water.
They drank each other in.
The muses tango.
After a month on the boat, his feet on dry land made him dance.
Sway in a tango with the Earth.
And sway they did.
Under the fan - in the heat.
On sheets wet with his sweat and salt water.
Back and forth
They wrote.
The Muses' tango."
20August2010
Author Ann
all rights reserved by the author
.
Lord, what a good song will do to a person...
.
.
20 August, 2010
"He walked in.
Tired.
Hot.
One tequilla sitting in the dark.
Blinds drawn against the white hot.
The fan on the ceiling slowing to a drone.
They didn't have to touch each other to know.
You could feel the heat.
The Muses tango.
Like good sex.
They walked to the beach without a word.
Then into the Gulf.
Drunk on tequilla and the heat.
Back and forth in the salt water.
They drank each other in.
The muses tango.
After a month on the boat, his feet on dry land made him dance.
Sway in a tango with the Earth.
And sway they did.
Under the fan - in the heat.
On sheets wet with his sweat and salt water.
Back and forth
They wrote.
The Muses' tango."
20August2010
Author Ann
all rights reserved by the author
.
Lord, what a good song will do to a person...
.
.
...somewhere in the deep south...
.
19August,2010
...somewhere in the Deep South
"...
We were in line waiting to pay for gas.
He had a hula girl on the dashboard. She was beautiful. When the wind blew she would sway back and forth. "Buenos diaz" was the price to see her dance.
I didn't speak Spanish and he didn't speak English. So I pointed and swayed back and forth.
Then he laughed, said the word "Arizona", and bent over to pick up the side of his car.
The car shook.
She shimmied.
We both smiled because it was magic...."
.
.
.
Walmart
"...
"It's part of my community service. No, I can't. Yes -- no --- hang on --"
"I need to buy some hangers. Get my clothes out of that suit case so I can actually live somewhere."
These three were amazing. Tats up and down the legs. Rail thin. I couldn't decide who they were. In the middle of the canned food section in the WalMart. We kept running into each other. I wanted to stop and ask them where they were from. Interview them. Take their photos. So exotic to me. Like aliens from another star system or indie singers from NY or LA. Dark angels in henna tats getting supplies. They should be running around in limos to a club, not buying groceries in the WalMart.
Beautiful
.
19August,2010
...somewhere in the Deep South
"...
We were in line waiting to pay for gas.
He had a hula girl on the dashboard. She was beautiful. When the wind blew she would sway back and forth. "Buenos diaz" was the price to see her dance.
I didn't speak Spanish and he didn't speak English. So I pointed and swayed back and forth.
Then he laughed, said the word "Arizona", and bent over to pick up the side of his car.
The car shook.
She shimmied.
We both smiled because it was magic...."
.
.
.
Walmart
"...
"It's part of my community service. No, I can't. Yes -- no --- hang on --"
"I need to buy some hangers. Get my clothes out of that suit case so I can actually live somewhere."
These three were amazing. Tats up and down the legs. Rail thin. I couldn't decide who they were. In the middle of the canned food section in the WalMart. We kept running into each other. I wanted to stop and ask them where they were from. Interview them. Take their photos. So exotic to me. Like aliens from another star system or indie singers from NY or LA. Dark angels in henna tats getting supplies. They should be running around in limos to a club, not buying groceries in the WalMart.
Beautiful
.
Not all "skips" fit...
.
I read that all the things we do and say find there way up to outter space until something sends it back to Earth years and years (and years) later... Got me thinking about what I say.
I'm saving future generations by actually thinking about what I have to say before I say it ...
Of course writing is a whole other thing...
I can write anything I dam well please...
"you can see the moonlight on your hands and on the person you're with..."
.
.
.
I read that all the things we do and say find there way up to outter space until something sends it back to Earth years and years (and years) later... Got me thinking about what I say.
I'm saving future generations by actually thinking about what I have to say before I say it ...
Of course writing is a whole other thing...
I can write anything I dam well please...
"you can see the moonlight on your hands and on the person you're with..."
.
.
.
The Sun came up...
.
and I was on the Gulf of Mexico.
Thinking.
About the term "Magic Realism" and what that means...
If you drive due South by the compass?
You end up there. It's where I was supposed to end up I guess. A cinder block jukejoint in the middle of a cotton field.
Singing...
"...when love comes to town I'm gonna' jump that train..."
LOL One night only...
Read this and then close your eyes so that you can see it.
When the moon is really full and you hit a stretch of beach without all the "light polution", the sand glows. You can "see" your hands and the person you're with.
Choose wisely...
.
.
.
The dogs are barking.
Might have company.
Gotta go...
.
and I was on the Gulf of Mexico.
Thinking.
About the term "Magic Realism" and what that means...
If you drive due South by the compass?
You end up there. It's where I was supposed to end up I guess. A cinder block jukejoint in the middle of a cotton field.
Singing...
"...when love comes to town I'm gonna' jump that train..."
LOL One night only...
Read this and then close your eyes so that you can see it.
When the moon is really full and you hit a stretch of beach without all the "light polution", the sand glows. You can "see" your hands and the person you're with.
Choose wisely...
.
.
.
The dogs are barking.
Might have company.
Gotta go...
.
"I did what I did..."
.
Last night I was driving home in the dark...
The road from where I was to where I was going was curvy, dark, and --
well I once passed a big ole owl sitting in the middle of the road eating --
uh --
something...
If the top's down, and the moon's gone? You can see things. When the moon's full? You can see more -- things. Anyway I got a "skip" from somewhere on the radio and the next thing I know the words, "...when love comes to town I'm gonna jump that train..." comes out of the speakers.
It was riding a bass line that was movin like really good sex.
Not too fast.
Not too slow.
In the groove...
.
.
.
Last night I was driving home in the dark...
The road from where I was to where I was going was curvy, dark, and --
well I once passed a big ole owl sitting in the middle of the road eating --
uh --
something...
If the top's down, and the moon's gone? You can see things. When the moon's full? You can see more -- things. Anyway I got a "skip" from somewhere on the radio and the next thing I know the words, "...when love comes to town I'm gonna jump that train..." comes out of the speakers.
It was riding a bass line that was movin like really good sex.
Not too fast.
Not too slow.
In the groove...
.
.
.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hello Goodbye Good morning, Good night (writter @ work)
...
"Step this way. Mind the curb. Now if you'll just wait here..."
St Peter to the new guys in Heaven's waiting area
It's realitive. That Jung thing. No it's not all about sex. Sometimes it's about pi.
We seem to belong to a world in which there's more we have alike than different.
So what seems eirely similar is just random but related by who we are as people.
In other words? It's random and things that look related probably aren't really.
Now if that makes sense, I'll just be going...Time to go ... Got to get some sleep..
It's coincidence.
Breathe easy.
Live your life.
Happy day.
Cya...
Here's some music
Hugs,
...
"Step this way. Mind the curb. Now if you'll just wait here..."
St Peter to the new guys in Heaven's waiting area
It's realitive. That Jung thing. No it's not all about sex. Sometimes it's about pi.
We seem to belong to a world in which there's more we have alike than different.
So what seems eirely similar is just random but related by who we are as people.
In other words? It's random and things that look related probably aren't really.
Now if that makes sense, I'll just be going...Time to go ... Got to get some sleep..
It's coincidence.
Breathe easy.
Live your life.
Happy day.
Cya...
Here's some music
Hugs,
...
Writing in the dark... (cont)
.
.
"She may get weary..."
I know that it sounds odd but I kind of like the idea of writing here in the dark. Quiet. No one reading what I have to say. It's an odd relief from the responsibility of being responsible. No worry about having something important to say, I can just say stuff. Write in private here in the middle of the Internet highway.
Lovely and oddly satisfying.
Okay of the versions I've heard, from Randy Newman, the Animals, 3 Dog Night, and Tom Jones?
I like this one the best...
LOL I know that no one reads this but just incase?
Hope you have a wonderful day.
Hugs
Ann
.
"She may get weary..."
I know that it sounds odd but I kind of like the idea of writing here in the dark. Quiet. No one reading what I have to say. It's an odd relief from the responsibility of being responsible. No worry about having something important to say, I can just say stuff. Write in private here in the middle of the Internet highway.
Lovely and oddly satisfying.
Okay of the versions I've heard, from Randy Newman, the Animals, 3 Dog Night, and Tom Jones?
I like this one the best...
LOL I know that no one reads this but just incase?
Hope you have a wonderful day.
Hugs
Ann
Monday, August 9, 2010
I think tonight's Late Late Show was taped alot earlier.
.
.
and ...
I'm thinking these guys are constipated.
Only one of the above statements have anything to do with the video.
It's not the one about the LLS being recorded earlier...
Heat wave "to do" list...
It's really hot now.
The idea of doing anything other than taking a cool shower and a nap under the fan is just a bad one.
I think this must be what having hot flashes and menopause is like.
I've gotta go pee.
So I've gone to buy a hammock...
Happy reading.
...
...
.,..
.
and ...
I'm thinking these guys are constipated.
Only one of the above statements have anything to do with the video.
It's not the one about the LLS being recorded earlier...
Heat wave "to do" list...
It's really hot now.
The idea of doing anything other than taking a cool shower and a nap under the fan is just a bad one.
I think this must be what having hot flashes and menopause is like.
I've gotta go pee.
So I've gone to buy a hammock...
Happy reading.
...
...
.,..
I was asking this lady in the parking lot...
.
"What would you think if your significant other gave you a treadmill for your anniversary?"
Her reaction was exactly like mine.
"They think you're fat."
Not the kind of romantic anniversary type reaction a person might be hoping for.
Sigh.
Okay.
Alittle help. I used to get hired as Cupid. It's been a while, but maybe this will help.
Step one.
Sit next to them on the couch.
Step two.
Hold their hand.
Step three.
Look at them and tell them that you think they are the most beautiful person you've ever seen.
Step four
They may think you've lost it. Tell them that it does feel abit weird but that you didn't want them to go another minute without knowing how much you love them. You may be clueless about some things but not about this.
Step five
Kiss them on the cheek. Anywhere else and they'll think you're horney and just making a pass. You might be but reign it in. This is about emotional stuff not hormones. At least not about your hormones.
Step six
Offer to rub their feet or take them out with their friends. This last bit is good. Be the designated guy and take their friends out on the town. Dance with them all fast but save the slow dancing for the person you love.
Step seven.
Almost at the end.
The next morning? Have flowers delivered and let them sleep in.
That's it for now.
Unless they asks you to, do not get them a treadmill.
If you want to show them you care about their health? Take them for a walk on the beach or send them to a spa.
Even the most independent person, appreciates a little tenderness.
"What would you think if your significant other gave you a treadmill for your anniversary?"
Her reaction was exactly like mine.
"They think you're fat."
Not the kind of romantic anniversary type reaction a person might be hoping for.
Sigh.
Okay.
Alittle help. I used to get hired as Cupid. It's been a while, but maybe this will help.
Step one.
Sit next to them on the couch.
Step two.
Hold their hand.
Step three.
Look at them and tell them that you think they are the most beautiful person you've ever seen.
Step four
They may think you've lost it. Tell them that it does feel abit weird but that you didn't want them to go another minute without knowing how much you love them. You may be clueless about some things but not about this.
Step five
Kiss them on the cheek. Anywhere else and they'll think you're horney and just making a pass. You might be but reign it in. This is about emotional stuff not hormones. At least not about your hormones.
Step six
Offer to rub their feet or take them out with their friends. This last bit is good. Be the designated guy and take their friends out on the town. Dance with them all fast but save the slow dancing for the person you love.
Step seven.
Almost at the end.
The next morning? Have flowers delivered and let them sleep in.
That's it for now.
Unless they asks you to, do not get them a treadmill.
If you want to show them you care about their health? Take them for a walk on the beach or send them to a spa.
Even the most independent person, appreciates a little tenderness.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Congratulations! You can marry your toaster...
At least according to folks in Cali.
I'm no expert on this stuff. There are social psychologists and religious folks who are all "experts" on this subject. They're busy yelling at each other that they're right and the opposition is wrong. I don't have tables and graphs and studies to illustrate my point. I certainly don't have the threats of eternal hell. It's just that I'm thinking that calling someone an abomination might be above most all of our paygrades.
But what do I know.
I was cleaning out a box of letters and photos when I came across a package of letters that were at least 17 years old. They were written by a friend who was living in New York. We'd been roommates before that. He'd shown me that a creative life wasn't just a hobby. You could actually do it for a living. A smart man, he saw the world as an interrelated dance.
Re-reading his letters gave my heart a tug. They were full of his anticipation and worry about someone he'd met. Someone who he said might be a person to live with. To love. There in his letters I watched as the relationship progressed from strangers who were curious into lovers. He was so happy. As long as I'd known him, he'd been looking for a committed relationship. He'd had flings but now he wanted a person to come home too. This person wasn't easy for him to find because of his life choices. He was dancing. When he wasn't dancing, he was working. He didn't earn much and most of it went for a roof over his head. Then he met this person and - well - he was happy. Here was a person he felt comfortable with. A hopeful match.
It made me smile to read the words again. He was happy.
And then he wasn't.
Apparently his friend's family didn't approve. The were very conservative and my friend wasn't worthy of their offspring. The next letters were sad. They talked about the unfair nature of what was happening. No matter how kind or how smart or how funny he was? It would never be good enough. The person who he loved just wasn't strong enough for the fight.
And he wasn't strong enough to come "out".
I was asked by a woman who was a lesbian, why (if I was a Christian) I didn't call her an abomination. Why did I call her friend instead. I told her it was simple. I didn't decide if she was going to Heaven or to Hell. That was, I believed, God's call not mine. But she was perhaps one of the best writer's I'd ever met. She liked what I wrote and I like what she wrote. Like my relationship with my New York friend, I became a better person and a better writer from having known her.
Listening to all the fuss about homosexuals marrying their toaster seems kind of strange and unrelated to my experience. I never, ever, met any of my friend's friends who were interested in marrying their kitchen appliances nor their dog. They were trying to find something real in this world.
Love.
Home.
Family.
Household appliances had nothing to do with it. To say anything different wouldn't be telling the truth.
They're voting (if they haven't already) on Kagan's nomination to the US Supreme Court. There's always alot of talk about judicial temperment. It makes sense to ask about her knowledge of Constitutional Law and her past rulings. This isn't just the job of a llifetime. Oh no, this is a life time job and she's young. If confirmed her words and judgement could resonate for decades. I'm glad that folks want to know what she knows about the law but me?
I want to know if she's a person.
I want to know how she will walk the line between the law and my friend's broken heart?
I'm thinking about all this because of tonight. LOL and because of an interview on "that little show in the middle of the night".. Don't know why but that man does get me to think- and to laugh.
Back later. Yard is looking better and better. Worth the effort.
Hugs,
AuthorAnn
I'm no expert on this stuff. There are social psychologists and religious folks who are all "experts" on this subject. They're busy yelling at each other that they're right and the opposition is wrong. I don't have tables and graphs and studies to illustrate my point. I certainly don't have the threats of eternal hell. It's just that I'm thinking that calling someone an abomination might be above most all of our paygrades.
But what do I know.
I was cleaning out a box of letters and photos when I came across a package of letters that were at least 17 years old. They were written by a friend who was living in New York. We'd been roommates before that. He'd shown me that a creative life wasn't just a hobby. You could actually do it for a living. A smart man, he saw the world as an interrelated dance.
Re-reading his letters gave my heart a tug. They were full of his anticipation and worry about someone he'd met. Someone who he said might be a person to live with. To love. There in his letters I watched as the relationship progressed from strangers who were curious into lovers. He was so happy. As long as I'd known him, he'd been looking for a committed relationship. He'd had flings but now he wanted a person to come home too. This person wasn't easy for him to find because of his life choices. He was dancing. When he wasn't dancing, he was working. He didn't earn much and most of it went for a roof over his head. Then he met this person and - well - he was happy. Here was a person he felt comfortable with. A hopeful match.
It made me smile to read the words again. He was happy.
And then he wasn't.
Apparently his friend's family didn't approve. The were very conservative and my friend wasn't worthy of their offspring. The next letters were sad. They talked about the unfair nature of what was happening. No matter how kind or how smart or how funny he was? It would never be good enough. The person who he loved just wasn't strong enough for the fight.
And he wasn't strong enough to come "out".
I was asked by a woman who was a lesbian, why (if I was a Christian) I didn't call her an abomination. Why did I call her friend instead. I told her it was simple. I didn't decide if she was going to Heaven or to Hell. That was, I believed, God's call not mine. But she was perhaps one of the best writer's I'd ever met. She liked what I wrote and I like what she wrote. Like my relationship with my New York friend, I became a better person and a better writer from having known her.
Listening to all the fuss about homosexuals marrying their toaster seems kind of strange and unrelated to my experience. I never, ever, met any of my friend's friends who were interested in marrying their kitchen appliances nor their dog. They were trying to find something real in this world.
Love.
Home.
Family.
Household appliances had nothing to do with it. To say anything different wouldn't be telling the truth.
They're voting (if they haven't already) on Kagan's nomination to the US Supreme Court. There's always alot of talk about judicial temperment. It makes sense to ask about her knowledge of Constitutional Law and her past rulings. This isn't just the job of a llifetime. Oh no, this is a life time job and she's young. If confirmed her words and judgement could resonate for decades. I'm glad that folks want to know what she knows about the law but me?
I want to know if she's a person.
I want to know how she will walk the line between the law and my friend's broken heart?
I'm thinking about all this because of tonight. LOL and because of an interview on "that little show in the middle of the night".. Don't know why but that man does get me to think- and to laugh.
Back later. Yard is looking better and better. Worth the effort.
Hugs,
AuthorAnn
It's dark.
.
"Love doesn't come with a contract..."
I'm sitting in the dark.
No, I'm not some creepy weird Internet stalker person. At least the folks I know don't think I am. If you were here you'd hear the sound of crunching. Or maybe munching. I'm eatting taco shells. I do that when I can't sleep and I'm worried.
I find something crunchy and I eat it.
Celery or taco shells, it has to have that cruchy sound thing or it's no go. At this moment there's a gallon of really good ice cream and chocolate sauce in the fridge but not interested. Nope. I'm eatting the taco shells and crunching.
In less than 24 hours I'll be in a restaurant looking cross the table at the longest "relationship" in my life. Next to my parents. We'll be on what should be a date type celebration. I've picked out what to wear and how my hair will look. The car is vacumed and the reservations were made two weeks ago. It's a nice restaurant. All organic and foody with a good wine list. I don't drink so the wine list is wasted on me but the food looks good.
Yet here I sit munching. It's a sign that something isn't right. I should be happy and I"m not.
..........
Treadmills and romance.
I was watching the LLS, when the subject of treadmills as an anniversary gift came up. Romance is such a tricky thing. I wrote about it. About how Valentine's Day doesn't have to be roses. Sometimes it a cactus. Alot of romance is expectation or maybe it's surprise. Dunno. I do know that it has to do with the person. A treadmill could be a very romantic gift or it could be a disaster even for the most pragmatic of person. I honestly don't know. If you look in my jewelry box there's a pair of earrings that I got for Christmas. It was a gift that was chosen with care from a person who was trying their best to give a lovely surprise. I still haven't worn them. They're beautiful but honestly I don't know this woman who is supposed to wear them. While the jewelry I wear is simple these earrings are not. So there they sit. Unworn. Waiting for the imaginary woman that they were bought for.
Sad.
.......
I really and truly want to laugh for my anniversary. And a hug. I'd like a hug for my anniversary. And to have my car detailed. Or a new forestay for the boat. Not earrings or this dinner out. That would be romantic.
You see romance isn't about the cost of the gift it's about the thought.
Paying attention.
This dinner is my idea but I don't think that I've been paying attention.
Neither have they.
That's why I'm up and crunching tacos. I'm very worried that neither of us have been paying attention and we're about to give each other "treadmills".
Very expensive treadmills.
This world is so complicated, if you aren't paying attention even roses can end up looking like a 'treadmill" on the heart.
I'm really worried.
..
..
It should be simple.
But for me?
It's as complicated as trying to stand up right after life's spun you around so fast and hard that just standing still is mystery.
What I do know:
I love God.
I love my son.
I love my pups,
I love my sailboat,
I love my truck,
I love to listen to country music,
I love sitting in the yard after working in it,
I love being on the hammock looking up at the trees at night, in the summer when it's cooler and everything is crickets and tree frogs,
(as crazy as it is) I love to watch that little show in the middle of the night,
and I love?
in moderation of course. LOL
It's hard to explain but that's really where I'd like to celebrate.
On the water with someone who thinks that's a really good idea.
But not in a hurricane or a flood. Just sayin'...
...
...
..
"Love doesn't come with a contract..."
I'm sitting in the dark.
No, I'm not some creepy weird Internet stalker person. At least the folks I know don't think I am. If you were here you'd hear the sound of crunching. Or maybe munching. I'm eatting taco shells. I do that when I can't sleep and I'm worried.
I find something crunchy and I eat it.
Celery or taco shells, it has to have that cruchy sound thing or it's no go. At this moment there's a gallon of really good ice cream and chocolate sauce in the fridge but not interested. Nope. I'm eatting the taco shells and crunching.
In less than 24 hours I'll be in a restaurant looking cross the table at the longest "relationship" in my life. Next to my parents. We'll be on what should be a date type celebration. I've picked out what to wear and how my hair will look. The car is vacumed and the reservations were made two weeks ago. It's a nice restaurant. All organic and foody with a good wine list. I don't drink so the wine list is wasted on me but the food looks good.
Yet here I sit munching. It's a sign that something isn't right. I should be happy and I"m not.
..........
Treadmills and romance.
I was watching the LLS, when the subject of treadmills as an anniversary gift came up. Romance is such a tricky thing. I wrote about it. About how Valentine's Day doesn't have to be roses. Sometimes it a cactus. Alot of romance is expectation or maybe it's surprise. Dunno. I do know that it has to do with the person. A treadmill could be a very romantic gift or it could be a disaster even for the most pragmatic of person. I honestly don't know. If you look in my jewelry box there's a pair of earrings that I got for Christmas. It was a gift that was chosen with care from a person who was trying their best to give a lovely surprise. I still haven't worn them. They're beautiful but honestly I don't know this woman who is supposed to wear them. While the jewelry I wear is simple these earrings are not. So there they sit. Unworn. Waiting for the imaginary woman that they were bought for.
Sad.
.......
I really and truly want to laugh for my anniversary. And a hug. I'd like a hug for my anniversary. And to have my car detailed. Or a new forestay for the boat. Not earrings or this dinner out. That would be romantic.
You see romance isn't about the cost of the gift it's about the thought.
Paying attention.
This dinner is my idea but I don't think that I've been paying attention.
Neither have they.
That's why I'm up and crunching tacos. I'm very worried that neither of us have been paying attention and we're about to give each other "treadmills".
Very expensive treadmills.
This world is so complicated, if you aren't paying attention even roses can end up looking like a 'treadmill" on the heart.
I'm really worried.
..
..
It should be simple.
But for me?
It's as complicated as trying to stand up right after life's spun you around so fast and hard that just standing still is mystery.
What I do know:
I love God.
I love my son.
I love my pups,
I love my sailboat,
I love my truck,
I love to listen to country music,
I love sitting in the yard after working in it,
I love being on the hammock looking up at the trees at night, in the summer when it's cooler and everything is crickets and tree frogs,
(as crazy as it is) I love to watch that little show in the middle of the night,
and I love?
in moderation of course. LOL
It's hard to explain but that's really where I'd like to celebrate.
On the water with someone who thinks that's a really good idea.
But not in a hurricane or a flood. Just sayin'...
...
...
..
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
They say it's your birthday....
.
Happy Birthday to President Obama.
Hope it's been a great day.
Many more years of happy birthdays to you sir.
Regards,
the folks at The Slacker Chronicles.
PS I would have used the regular birthday song but apparently the copyright restrictions are too steep...
...
Happy Birthday to President Obama.
Hope it's been a great day.
Many more years of happy birthdays to you sir.
Regards,
the folks at The Slacker Chronicles.
PS I would have used the regular birthday song but apparently the copyright restrictions are too steep...
...
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Political Season
.
It's 2010 and constiuents are unhappy...
People can be such cynics...
written on
this day
It's 2010 and constiuents are unhappy...
People can be such cynics...
written on
this day
"Well -- when we did it?
.
It was a three ringed circus...
and I was the overweight, wanna be trapeze artist who sang Socretes..."
I want to remember this video. It's a good idea. Each of the parts in the song, Tower of Babel was a real philosopher; they where archetypes of their philosophical view. This takes that notion a bit futher and tries ( I guess) to make the architypes of these philosophies into stereotypes of regular people.
The video was incorporated into a production of Godspell.
I'd love to try and redo this idea. Just tweek it. I'd like to see WHO protesters, the "supermom" morphing into different settings. The man/woman business people at the negociating across the board room table, maybe lawyers arguing in the USSupreme Court, maybe a point counter point on a FOX or CNN news show, or screen shots of Twitter arguments back and forth. Much more contrast and pushing the architypes to their extreme. They are so wildly different. All speaking English but talking different "languages". It's that sharp contrast that shows the world's "Tower of Bable" existance. Then at the end, the same people watching these architypes on a video screen or sat TV. They'd question who they are in relation to all the "babel" that they are hearing and seeing. They'd mute it. Rewind. Catch it on TIVO. Trying to make sure they heard it correctly while they sing the final characters part.
"Who am I?"
What with the "conversations" you can have on Twitter. The ones where the idea is to throw thoughts out there and be heard but not hear back?
No dialog. Just "Kilroy was here." Now trending...
Sigh,
back to cleaning flower beds...
(at least I'll have something to think about in the heat)
written by
AuthorAnn
It was a three ringed circus...
and I was the overweight, wanna be trapeze artist who sang Socretes..."
I want to remember this video. It's a good idea. Each of the parts in the song, Tower of Babel was a real philosopher; they where archetypes of their philosophical view. This takes that notion a bit futher and tries ( I guess) to make the architypes of these philosophies into stereotypes of regular people.
The video was incorporated into a production of Godspell.
I'd love to try and redo this idea. Just tweek it. I'd like to see WHO protesters, the "supermom" morphing into different settings. The man/woman business people at the negociating across the board room table, maybe lawyers arguing in the USSupreme Court, maybe a point counter point on a FOX or CNN news show, or screen shots of Twitter arguments back and forth. Much more contrast and pushing the architypes to their extreme. They are so wildly different. All speaking English but talking different "languages". It's that sharp contrast that shows the world's "Tower of Bable" existance. Then at the end, the same people watching these architypes on a video screen or sat TV. They'd question who they are in relation to all the "babel" that they are hearing and seeing. They'd mute it. Rewind. Catch it on TIVO. Trying to make sure they heard it correctly while they sing the final characters part.
"Who am I?"
What with the "conversations" you can have on Twitter. The ones where the idea is to throw thoughts out there and be heard but not hear back?
No dialog. Just "Kilroy was here." Now trending...
Sigh,
back to cleaning flower beds...
(at least I'll have something to think about in the heat)
written by
AuthorAnn
Got to be real...
.
Wise words...
When you're walking down the "catwalk of life" in D & G sparkly underpants?
And you fall?
Get back up and strut it.
It's been a while...
The high light of this week was taking stuff to the dump -- uh sanitary landfill -- with someone I've known longer than anyone (other than parents).
That and surviving race duty and yard work in 100 degree heat.
The yard looks great but between you and me?
I wouldn't mind having my fancy underpants back.
Cya,
AA
Wise words...
When you're walking down the "catwalk of life" in D & G sparkly underpants?
And you fall?
Get back up and strut it.
It's been a while...
The high light of this week was taking stuff to the dump -- uh sanitary landfill -- with someone I've known longer than anyone (other than parents).
That and surviving race duty and yard work in 100 degree heat.
The yard looks great but between you and me?
I wouldn't mind having my fancy underpants back.
Cya,
AA
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