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 |   Life is rough...I have to write it out. |
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I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I guess it is a good thing I didn't actually hold my breath. |
Day 8 Prompt: Ever so often a confluence of events occur – too many restless sleepers and the phase of the moon as well as the moon’s distance from the sun and other astronomical events -- and a dream storm occurs. Here we are all snug in our beds and this cosmic storm hits. Tell us what happens in this storm. In my dream storms there are actual dream collisions. Nightmares and sweet dreams battle it out, survival going only to the victor. Turmoil spurs itself on. Thunder claps echo in the sound of my mother’s voice, sending down tiny droplets of perceived judgment polluted hatred-rain. Each one hitting me on the surface, yet also deeper underneath. Lightning bolts powered by Kid A’s pure kindness illuminate more than the sky, shining upon the tiny pieces of goodness that are left in my corners. Hailstones… moments so tragic they tighten and freeze…permanently scar all that lies in their path. Rainbows in the hues of inhales and exhales… deep, trembling, held or shared. Each one an arcing moment to breathe. Blackened skies blinding me to the reality all around, as well as the damage I subsequently cause. Kid A and B’s combined energy focused into a funnel cloud, blasting a wide path of consumption yet waste. Hundreds of millions of my hidden self’s deepest desires, most strangers even to me, as burning snowflakes gently floating around, landing right at my feet. Husband A’s extreme preternatural calm, turning the sky green with pending illness. My own high pressure system swooping down out of nowhere. And the volcanic eruption which Pompeiis us all when the two meet. And so at night, when I prepare for my dreams, I gather my supplies. I grab my can of worms, to open when I please…a bit of redirection if you will. I make sure my chip is securely attached up there on my shoulder. I stretch my muscles by practicing a few eye roll exercises. I throw in some kegels too…I mean why the fuck not? If I’m just standing there…. And then I don my rain gear…my protection against all stormy consequences. I slide into my anger, and cover up with a blanket of disregard. Awwww, my sweet little blankie of contempt. Yeah…it looks familiar…my clothes are made of the same shit. |
Day 7 Prompt: You’ve popped back home. Yes, you know no one knows you’re gone, but you’ve gotten homesick. Tell us what’s happening there. Who are you kidding? I’m not going home. You can’t make me. They are all going to be sitting around having fun anyway. Wearing their togas, converting the plumbing to keg lines, constantly telling the police they will turn the music down…. I hope they remember to keep Kid B to one sippy cup of wine though; she’s sort of a lousy drunk. |
Day 6 Prompt: We’re visiting one of the many wonderful suggested destinations - either one someone has suggested or a different one. Things do not go as planned. Tell us where we are and what kind of trouble we get into. Make the entry humorous if you can. I tried. I tried to refrain from making the obvious dirty joke in response to PandaPaws Licensed VetTech   ‘s post, but I can’t. The most I could do was not put it as an actual comment. Keep my shit in my own gutter and all…..I fully expect there to be punishment. Brother Nature  } is going to need to spank his monkey. (collective groan)Oh this prompt. What is this? Mirthful Monday? You can dress up Funny Friday but it’s still shit. Everything I think is now tainted with the immense pressure of humor…which means not a damn thing is going to come out funny. Next month, when it is an official month, and Funny Friday is officially back…I am going to avoid all attempts at humor. I, skeason, openly state my intent to defy all Funny Friday prompts. Last month, I passive-aggressively defied the Funny Friday prompts by bitching incessantly about it. I imagine I will still do that… We went looking for trouble, but that’s not what we found. Distractions started blooming right from the ground. Strange little mushrooms in all shades of blue, Suddenly starving we ate one, some of us two. We had disembarked the ship in search of tail, One lost passenger before setting sail. Something seemed funny and so we all laughed, Missions and deadlines a memory passed. We started monkeying around, acting like fools, But the forest swimming in color was so fucking cool. Animals were whisking us away with their tales, And the island’s heart beat on a truly grand scale. Time was of the essence, yet also obscured, Vague thoughts of a primate yet to be procured. I am pretty sure we searched, but came up with zip, Someone suggested we go back to the ship. It took quite awhile but we finally found the way, Only to discover we had been gone for two days. The simian himself had since come and gone, But we were banned from searching…we did it all wrong. |
Day 5 Prompt: As we plan out various excursions, what is a place you do not want to visit? Behind the curtain. The one place I never want to go is behind the curtain. I know not what drives the mechanics of my island and would prefer to remain ignorant. I will go a great many undesirable places. I will trek through some shit. But I want nothing to do with the most desirable places. With the areas which would provide the most satisfaction. Dreams and longing are not logistical. I beat a wide path around the pale blue curtain in the northwest corner. My self-control is pitiful and the voice from behind the curtain speaks directly to the worst parts of me. It wants me to ruin the magic. Somehow I know that the minute I look behind the curtain I will never be able to return to my island, something will be shattered. So no – stop asking me. Stop peer pressuring me to go back there. And I don’t care what fucking day it is…I am NOT following that rabbit. (buuuut if your caterpillar offers me one of those mushrooms……) |
Day 4 Prompt: What’s for dinner tonight? Expense or difficulty in preparation is no problem. Dinner tonight….well that’s a piece of cake. And since I don’t have to cook it, I can remain as cool as a cucumber, though I will admit to some discomfort at not being in charge of a kitchen…kind of like a fish out of water. We will for sure have lemonade, because life gave me some fucking lemons today. And for that matter…as an appetizer I will be serving sour grapes. Today a girl, who is nutty as a fruitcake, bit off more than she could chew when she tried to overshadow the fruits of my labor. She may be a sandwich short of a picnic, but I am not, and I know what I did. Sure, I have fingers in lots of pies, but that makes me busy not stupid. Know your onions before you come at me little girl, because that tree don’t bear fruit. She may think she is the greatest thing since sliced bread, but I guess half a loaf is better than none. As an entrée we will dine on food for thought. A certain couch potato, who is slow as molasses, really annoyed the shit out of me today as well. Is it possible that what was once the apple of my eye may no longer be my cup of tea? I don't know, but it’s like comparing apples and oranges, the big cheese that used to taste sweet as honey is now the bitterest pill I have ever swallowed. Who knows…maybe I want to have my cake and eat it too. As a side tonight we apparently have small potatoes stewed in the juices of overinflated anger. For dessert we have cookies and the milk of human kindness….oh shit….no don’t cry, I only spilled a little. My cookies are good but they will never be sugarcoated, so eat your heart out because that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. If you are one of those people who stick around too long after it has become clear that the evening is over, I always always have some extra knuckle sandwiches on hand, though for me those taste more like icing on the cake. P.S. Unlike Brother Nature , I will be wearing more than just a tie to PandaPaws Licensed VetTech 's party because I am flat as a pancake. |
Day 3 Prompt: On this trip you don’t have to do any cooking, cleaning or other chores. Tell us how you envision these tasks being performed. I do not envision these things happening. I do not think about it at all. These things just are. Clean just is. I mean, my sheets stay spotless despite all the raucous sex I perpetrate against them. My dishes are clean despite my inability to even move them from the last place I precariously placed them. My clothes are, at all times, clean and smelling of vanilla, despite two of my main recreational fiend activities being smelly. Clean just is. We just eat. When I am hungry I eat because there is fried chicken on my plate. And it is always perfectly amazing. I don’t need to think about or decide what I want. The food is just there. We just eat. Things just come. I never run out of iced tea and soda despite the number of IV bags that I go through. I always have a match, as well as something to light. Who needs vibrators? Things just come. |
Day 2 Prompt: When you enter your assigned room with attached bathroom on the ship, it’s bare. You may decorate and furnish your room any way you like – just say it or wish it. The only limitation is you only have one port window. Tell us what the room looks like after you finish with it. The entrance to my cabin is a small door in a narrow hallway, just like so many ships I have seen before. I open the door and feel my mind expand with its surroundings (because it is bigger on the inside….just ask the Doctor.) I know that once I shut my eyes to this blank canvas and imagine my soul’s surroundings I will never be able to change it, for a full truth is only screamed out once. I close my eyes and in my mind’s eye I see…. Wooden walls. Not so much with the wood paneled walls….more like a log cabin. Thick, rough, ancient logs in a shade of midnight blue one would never know existed if it had not been brought in from the darkness. The walls are plain. No decorations hang from them, as the trees would never allow it. The room is divided into two sections. The rear section of the cabin (which contains the window) is where I sleep. The floor is carpeted with… enormous blue pillow. Blankets and pillows huddle en masse everywhere you look. And, just like at home, all my blue hoodies seem to end up on this bed as well. The bathroom is mostly bathtub. The downfall is that there is no door. I no longer know how to use the restroom without answering questions, putting something together, or telling a kid to back up. It doesn’t matter in truth; rest assured… you will never be invited into my cabin. The rest of the cabin is slightly hard to discern. The books I carry within myself, those that have changed my utter being, are everywhere. Tall towers of books that surpass the limits of the ceiling. Paper flutters through the air on its own. When I am in this area I am constantly dodging books and papers while trying to capture their thoughts. My cup is always full and my mind can be blissfully empty. My previous wishes wrap their arms around me…..contentment, joy, understanding, peace….the things available to me only here. And then there is the corner. THE corner. I cannot describe to you the horrors that await me in this corner because I never venture there. It is the clichéd “dark recesses of my mind”. I do not have the balls to push my way through the bubble of fear that protects this corner. Yet, whenever I am in my cabin it holds quite a bit of my attention…attention I willingly give. I open my eyes and I all envisioned is laid out before me in splendid shades of blue. A strange variegation of one siren’s song yet surreal enough to remind me this is not my permanent home. |
Day 1 Prompt - If you could travel anywhere, where would you go? What would you expect to see, eat, smell, hear, and feel? The picture. The picture made this prompt take off for me. It’s a blue magical flying ship and that is all I needed. I don’t even care that the picture is for the challenge not the prompt…it has shaped my month and I cannot turn back now. It is important to know that I am obsessed with blue – not just an obsession, something quite more. If I have it, it is blue. My entire house is like the inside of a blueberry and shit. Blue. It makes me so fucking happy. It is also important to know that the idea of a flying ship has, since I was a little girl, excited me so very much. Thanks to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang a flying car zooms in at a close second. And so we take flight…. The ideal travel destination for me is not real, insofar as the reality we know of. And while it is an island of contradictions, it is also one of comfort. To me at least, and since it is my island that is all that matters. You can only board the ship in a dream of course…and since I am an insomniac it takes me a while to afford my ticket. As I look out the porthole window in my luxurious cabin, I see that the clouds take the shape of my wishes and begin to follow along, headed for the same destination. Some of them are to meet me for the first time. While the cabin’s vantage point shows the surrounding sky as the clearest blue, once I reach the deck I can see the encroaching darkness, and I begin to anticipate its weight. The ability of the darkness to keep me on the ground. I begin to get excited as the black eats the stars. The ship slowly enters a zone of blindness, secure in the fact that the first wish I made, at home – to come here, was now guiding us to the island. As she lands I can hear the trees whisper my arrival and within seconds the island knows I am there. Everything on the island is blue. Hints of green are to be found but shades of blue are in abundance. Every time I come I get the feeling I am the only person who enjoys the blue in the ways I do, but it makes no difference. My love for blue transcends most things. I adore this island. The darkness is more than just atmospheric, it emanates from the core of the island. We are kin, as darkness emanates from my core as well. There is a sharp edge of danger to everything. It feels like a game of survival. Chaos reigns supreme and messes with the delicate balance of survival one becomes accustomed to back in his or her real life. Nothing is safe for certain anymore and everything is now exciting. Even though there is no period of day – no time when it is light – there are still creatures that freely roam about. Each one is a pleasing mixture of myth, legend, cryptid, and fantastical imagination. And each one has the capability to scare the shit out of me, yet they are the only thing on the island that is truly without danger. There is a part of the island that is very hard to access. It is a more social area, rather communal. It is still a dangerous area, and to live there is often a rough road. Here, you “make it through” rather than “survive”. But things are enjoyable in other ways. Supplies for fried chicken are in endless supply and so on that we dine. And we never tire of the simple fried chicken because…..it’s mother fucking fried chicken. The air in this area smells only of vanilla, in fact, anything at all that omits an odor smells of vanilla, but nothing tastes of it. There is no technology and the only reason there are any books is because the constant wish for a new book that lives in the back of my heart follows me here every single time. There are wondrous story tellers though. They are to be found everywhere. On the corners, in the pubs, in our homes. The story tellers are the royalty on my island and we are richly rewarded for treating them as such. Speaking is only allowed during certain times but never required….as silence is valued. My journey here is often born of a dreamy wish to escape those around me. My journey home always begins with a twinge of need to return to them. And yes, the moment I return I wonder what the fuck I was thinking. After all, I do not remember discussing divorce, truck driving, penises, boyfriends, or poop while I was sniping my way through a forest. |
Day 30 Prompt: Wildcard Monday...Day 30! You made it! What to you is more rewarding...the journey, or the destination? I would love to say that the journey IS the reward, but that is some flat out bullshit. And I call bullshit on anyone who says so. The journey is hard. It is painful. It is what makes you deserve the reward. The journey is more fulfilling, it allows us to take parts of our selves down paths we fear or hate. It shows us places of beauty we might skip past otherwise. The journey is not our own. We are not in control of the journey. Every decision made, every person involved who also makes a decision...it all influences it all. The destination is less fulfilling, but not less meaningful. It is earned – be it done well or not. It is fought for. It is recognition that there are things never to be understood by others. I like the reward of the destination. I like things to come to fruition. Bring some shit to an end mother fucker…..shitty journeys cannot go on forever, and good ones definitely should have an end. Journeys are long lasting, overlapping, and common; while rewards are much fewer. It took a lot of self control not to write this post all cheesy like. I wanted to say something along the lines of…… Take the journey and Don’t Stop Believin’ that Any Way You Want It life will be Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ you Faithfully with Open Arms. Thank goodness that idea and I went Separate Ways. |
Day 28 Prompt: Sunday News! I would be an irresponsible Hoosier if I did not choose a news story that highlighted our foolish mistakes. http://www.mediaite.com/tv/stephanopoulos-corners-pence-over-lgbt-discrimination... Oh Governor Pence...way to make a fool of us on television all day. As if just looking at your face wasn’t enough to make me want to tag you with a right hook, you had to go and speak to everyone as if we are idiots. Oh and, way to refer to Bill Clinton ten thousand times, this interview would have been a disaster if you hadn’t been able to do that. Is there anything to write here? Watch the clip. He refuses to answer the fucking question. And that is because the answer is yes. Not saying no is the same as saying yes. It was his own supporter's mother fucking comment. Speak to that shit asshole, I imagine you are losing people quite quickly at the moment. If that supporter is not speaking for you then stand up and say exactly that. You know why? Because I am on my feet screaming that you don’t fucking speak for me. George says “yes or no it should be legal to discriminate against gays and lesbians?” And his answer is “George….” That was the fool’s whiny ass answer every time. “It’s a yes or no question...” “George….” “Is the answer yes or no Governor?” “George….” Because George Stephanopoulos is stupid and needs to be spoken to as if he were an annoying little boy. Oh yeah….that IS the way Indiana speaks to people isn’t it? He says…people are afraid of government infringing on religious freedom and that he is one of those. He says that putting gays and lesbians in the constitution as a protected class is not his agenda. How dare he use sentences like…I think the people of Indiana…. A. His thought processes are so seriously flawed that he in no way should believe he is capable of doing my thinking nor should he present himself as doing so. B. He was absolutely not put in this position to rectify instances of personal injury. HIS agenda is of no matter. The offenses to HIS religion have dick to do with the execution of responsible laws. Fuck I wish things went like that. I wish that I could behave the same because I would jump all over that bullshit….. (And before I say the next thing and anyone gets offended I would like to say two things. 1. This is my blog. 2. The people around me are hardcore thumpers. If you have faith that is fine with me. If you have Christian faith that is fine with me. This is not about you. If you are a miniature proselytizer with a mission then …..yeah…you should probably be offended.) ….you know…like this: Cuz ya know….I sell cakes. I don’t really do wedding cakes, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t. Sake of the story and all that jazz…. Welcome to {name withheld}. Oh you would like a wedding cake? Of course, please let’s sit and get some details. Ha ha ha. No no no. I don’t give two flying fucks what kind of cake you want. I am assuming you want it as vanilla as possible. No, these questions are more important. Do you think Jesus is my savior? Will you claim to stay awake at night praying for my soul now that you are aware I have not allowed him into my heart? Are you either thinking or considering calling me aloud any of the following things: witch, pagan, the devil, damned, or lost? Can your children play with my children? Are we making a cake for a wedding because the parameters are right? Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve, amirite?!?!? Did you expect me to mean that? Do you feel that the cake in the picture, because it was made for a gay wedding, threatens the stability of your cake in any way? Do you wish I would use separate kitchen tools for your cake? Do you feel like you are better than I am? Do you deem yourself so important that you could save me, or even be a part of such a thing? Do you go fucking sit in church once a week while you discreetly check your phone for the latest gossip so you know who to tell everyone to pray for? Do you ask god for things such as the strength to endure the presence of the boy with two moms? Do you warn your children in ways that promote hate and intolerance? Who is unwelcome in your home? If you answered yes to any of the above questions then go ahead and get the fuck out. I don’t sell cakes to you. In fact the amount of time you spend thinking about what another man does with his dick is alarming to me. Be sure to let me read the article when it comes out. Oh, no article? My mistake, I just figured that since you seem to know what each man in this little town does with his cock you were doing some sort of study. Guess your patronizing judgment shoudla clued me in. What’s that? THIS is patronizing judgment. Why, yes, yes, it is. Good job buddy, way to catch on, go ahead and make a mark in the god is proud of you column. The onslaught of businesses and revenue that warned of their intention to leave Indiana have begun to follow through. It takes balls to constantly say out of one end that you are here to protect our economic welfare and then decide to try and call hundreds of millions of bluffs. Whoops. You know why you had to go on television and whine about the way we are being treated Governor Pence? Because you fucking reap what you sew. You gotta breathe the atmosphere too asshole. Sticky prejudice is landing on you as well…it’s not that easy to “just brush off” now is it? |
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