I really like this one. It was an exercise during the writing academy over the summer where we all had to pick a shoe from a table and pretend to be that shoe. Of course everyone should know which one I zeroed in on.
Oh yeah, Saturday night. I wonder what dance floor it'll be tonight? Hopefully a better surface than last week's slumming disaster. Honestly what was she thinking dragging our well-respected 2-inch heels into Lola's? I thought she'd outgrown that purple-fenced sleazy dive 15 years ago. But noooo, there we were walking over cracked cement floors and resting our dainty thin-skinned feet against the graffitied bar. She was looking around the place scoping out the tattoos, long-tailed jeans wearing tight-assed muscle boys. Okay so maybe Lola's isn't bad in a pinch but still we've come a long way. While she was training her eagle eyes on the merchandise some steel-toed, seen better days pair of Doc Martens tried to cozy up to me. I stubbornly kept my pointed red toes facing the bar. I think I actually read "The time is nigh. Repent! Repent!" How did that get written down there? And I didn't know Doc Martens knew the word "nigh". Thankfully we left Lola's intact after almost getting a beer bottle smashed across our delicate satins.
Oh, she's getting the red sleeveless dress that goes so well with our red satin finish and sparkly studded ankle straps. Oh, I know where we're going.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Poetry forms (9/15/07;wp)
I start out with words never ideas. The ideas come from the words. Sometimes the ideas bubble and ferment but never get made into wine. Time to make the wine.
Time
Wine
Tine
Wime
God, I am tired. Hungover. Achy. Jumped up and danced on a bar last night then fell down. The sweet, mechanical engineering master's degreed dark-skinned boy helped me up off the floor. Precious boys. Sweet young boys. I want to rub their arms and chests and stomachs.
Okay back to poetry forms. Sometimes I write ragged lines. I imagine lines with the edges torn off. My mind wanders. Let's see...green shirt that says "Books Rule" on it. What about "Book Rules"? He has a large nose. Brown hair with ragged lines cut in the back making it wavy and upturned. He wears glasses. White skin. Looks like pure white dough before it's kneaded and baked when the dusty white flour still coats it. On his arms the dark hair stands out.
No, no, no! Images of my ex-lover are creeping in. The old desire, the desire for his long hairy body. No! I hate him now. I despise him. He of the low brain, low class, and even lower tastes.
I'm rambling again. I'm hot and hungover sitting in a poetry class learning all my sonnets again. Sunbrained. HA! Just came up with that one.
Time
Wine
Tine
Wime
God, I am tired. Hungover. Achy. Jumped up and danced on a bar last night then fell down. The sweet, mechanical engineering master's degreed dark-skinned boy helped me up off the floor. Precious boys. Sweet young boys. I want to rub their arms and chests and stomachs.
Okay back to poetry forms. Sometimes I write ragged lines. I imagine lines with the edges torn off. My mind wanders. Let's see...green shirt that says "Books Rule" on it. What about "Book Rules"? He has a large nose. Brown hair with ragged lines cut in the back making it wavy and upturned. He wears glasses. White skin. Looks like pure white dough before it's kneaded and baked when the dusty white flour still coats it. On his arms the dark hair stands out.
No, no, no! Images of my ex-lover are creeping in. The old desire, the desire for his long hairy body. No! I hate him now. I despise him. He of the low brain, low class, and even lower tastes.
I'm rambling again. I'm hot and hungover sitting in a poetry class learning all my sonnets again. Sunbrained. HA! Just came up with that one.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
The Beach House (9/16/07;wp)
I'm back in the same beach house as last year with my friends and their children. The early morning sun makes my eyes squint; forehead furrow. A shrimp boat out on the glass-surfaced water reflecting the sun, the boat like a painting found in the seashell souvenir shops along The Strand. I listen to the waves. They're saying "We rise and fall but it's more than that. We move through wind, get caught up in the currents, carried along, our liquid selves meshing with the air. We fold up and over and head for the shore. We want to come ashore and spread out over the sand. We're in constant motion not stopping even for a day."
I do enjoy my coffee. Not with milk though but there's nothing for it. No creamer of any kind in this beach house. Kids slathered in sunscreen. A kitchen full of food I can't eat. But it's so worth it because my friends' husbands tell me I look great. So I think giving up all the food I like to eat to get a spectacular body is well worth the sacrifice. Hmm...maybe that's what my sonnet should be about. All the food I love but can no longer have.
Cheese: Gouda, Parmesan, asiago, bleu, all the rank smelly cheeses out at Central Market
Bread: Big, doughy, loaves soaked in olive oil mixed with spices
Crackers: Ritz, Saltines, Wheat Thins, Goldfish, Cheeze Nips, Triscuits with slices of ham, Colby Jack cheese, and olives with garlic in the pits
Chips: Pringles, the whole can, sour cream 'n' onion, bbq, salt & vinegar, habanero, jalapeno, so much salt on my tongue, splitting it open with fissures like the earth after an earthquake, my lips cracking apart, not bleeding only because I saturate them in lip balm
Eggs I can eat but not the way Johnny is eating them, baked in a dish with cheese, cream, sausage, and picante sauce smothering the top. Ah, I miss all that heavy food but heavy on the outside turns me heavy inside and out. The salt fills my cells and makes them expand pushing out all ridges, rolls, and my flesh hangs and jiggles. But with light food my body becomes light. The flesh shrinking, the curves becoming rounded, and soft. Not bulging and bulky.
Cake: dough turned black with chocolate and the sugar icing coating the top
Cookies: chocolate chip, macadamia nut, snicker doodle, cinnamon
Pie: cherry, apple, blueberry, lattice pies with that delicious crust
Nuts: pistachios, pecans, almonds, peanuts, cashews, especially peanuts in a bowl with Tabasco sauce and lemon juice. Eating the whole bowl, my lips, tongue, and throat on fire. If I let that happen then the oils in the peanuts would act like a catalyst to produce the oils in my face. Bursting, like tiny oil wells, all the acne ruining my face. No, that will never happen.
I do enjoy my coffee. Not with milk though but there's nothing for it. No creamer of any kind in this beach house. Kids slathered in sunscreen. A kitchen full of food I can't eat. But it's so worth it because my friends' husbands tell me I look great. So I think giving up all the food I like to eat to get a spectacular body is well worth the sacrifice. Hmm...maybe that's what my sonnet should be about. All the food I love but can no longer have.
Cheese: Gouda, Parmesan, asiago, bleu, all the rank smelly cheeses out at Central Market
Bread: Big, doughy, loaves soaked in olive oil mixed with spices
Crackers: Ritz, Saltines, Wheat Thins, Goldfish, Cheeze Nips, Triscuits with slices of ham, Colby Jack cheese, and olives with garlic in the pits
Chips: Pringles, the whole can, sour cream 'n' onion, bbq, salt & vinegar, habanero, jalapeno, so much salt on my tongue, splitting it open with fissures like the earth after an earthquake, my lips cracking apart, not bleeding only because I saturate them in lip balm
Eggs I can eat but not the way Johnny is eating them, baked in a dish with cheese, cream, sausage, and picante sauce smothering the top. Ah, I miss all that heavy food but heavy on the outside turns me heavy inside and out. The salt fills my cells and makes them expand pushing out all ridges, rolls, and my flesh hangs and jiggles. But with light food my body becomes light. The flesh shrinking, the curves becoming rounded, and soft. Not bulging and bulky.
Cake: dough turned black with chocolate and the sugar icing coating the top
Cookies: chocolate chip, macadamia nut, snicker doodle, cinnamon
Pie: cherry, apple, blueberry, lattice pies with that delicious crust
Nuts: pistachios, pecans, almonds, peanuts, cashews, especially peanuts in a bowl with Tabasco sauce and lemon juice. Eating the whole bowl, my lips, tongue, and throat on fire. If I let that happen then the oils in the peanuts would act like a catalyst to produce the oils in my face. Bursting, like tiny oil wells, all the acne ruining my face. No, that will never happen.
Back from the dead
No one actually ever comes back from the dead. But here I am saying it as a way to tell you all that I am coming back and staying this time. The last 8 months have been hell. There is no other way to put it. I lost my father and I also lost my lover. I'll say his name now, Michael T., and I don't care who knows it or who goes and tattles to his girlfriend about us. Fuck him. I'll catch up with all that later. For now I want to say that I am free of that bastard. That lying, cheating, horrid, pathetic excuse for a man.
I will be putting up my writing practices on the blog. All the stuff in my head. All the stuff I write raw from the depths. It's all going to come out. Names might be mentioned. But maybe not. How will the writing practice be distinguishable from the regular blog? Well now I just don't know. Let's see how it goes.
I will be putting up my writing practices on the blog. All the stuff in my head. All the stuff I write raw from the depths. It's all going to come out. Names might be mentioned. But maybe not. How will the writing practice be distinguishable from the regular blog? Well now I just don't know. Let's see how it goes.
Monday, February 19, 2007
A month already
I still can't believe my father is gone. I walk into my parent's house and I see all of his pictures. I see his ashes in his miniature casket and think "This can't be happening". My mother and I leave to go to the store and it seems that he's there at the house waiting for us to return. Why did he have to die? It's too much.
I am afraid I am not up for much writing tonight. I just got the internet connected again. This is sort of a test run. I hate being poor. I hate wasting my talents at the front desk of my school. I hate being alone. Whine, whine, whine. Poor me. I need a serious change in circumstances.
I am afraid I am not up for much writing tonight. I just got the internet connected again. This is sort of a test run. I hate being poor. I hate wasting my talents at the front desk of my school. I hate being alone. Whine, whine, whine. Poor me. I need a serious change in circumstances.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Getting through
It's been three weeks since my father died. My mother and brothers are still in shock. We never believed that he would be taken from us so soon. He was 65. We always beleived he would still be here with us at least another 10 or 15 years. We never knew just how bad his heart was. This is too difficult. These last few weeks have been a blur. I go to my job every day and I get more and more frustrated. I get so angry. And now that my father is in heaven I feel that he can see everything that is happening to me and feels even more distress.
It's just no consolation to hear all the platitudes. I don't want my dad in a better place. I want him here with us. With my mother in their house. My brothers have been here nearly every day and I come every day but it's not right that he's not here. We miss him horribly. No matter what kind of crappy day I had at work when I came to my parent's house in the evening's and saw my parents together I knew things would work out. My dad would make a joke or just ask me how my day was. I would tell him all my stories from the trenches and he would make his comments and tell me to keep looking for a better job. I am trying so hard to find a better job. I just wish that my dad had lived to see me succeed.
Why do people have to die? When my grandmothers, my grandfather, and my uncle all passed away I felt sad. But nothing compares to this grief. This is much closer. It is going to take time. But Saturdays now have become a sad day for me. It's when my daddy died and the worst thing of all is he never even made it to the hospital. He never had a chance. He was gone in an instant. How does that happen? Why did this happen?
It's just no consolation to hear all the platitudes. I don't want my dad in a better place. I want him here with us. With my mother in their house. My brothers have been here nearly every day and I come every day but it's not right that he's not here. We miss him horribly. No matter what kind of crappy day I had at work when I came to my parent's house in the evening's and saw my parents together I knew things would work out. My dad would make a joke or just ask me how my day was. I would tell him all my stories from the trenches and he would make his comments and tell me to keep looking for a better job. I am trying so hard to find a better job. I just wish that my dad had lived to see me succeed.
Why do people have to die? When my grandmothers, my grandfather, and my uncle all passed away I felt sad. But nothing compares to this grief. This is much closer. It is going to take time. But Saturdays now have become a sad day for me. It's when my daddy died and the worst thing of all is he never even made it to the hospital. He never had a chance. He was gone in an instant. How does that happen? Why did this happen?
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Tragedy has struck...
None of us in my family will ever be the same again. Almost two weeks ago I lost my father. Saturday morning, January 20, 2007at 11:08 am my father died of a massive heart attack. He was at home when it happened, talking to my mother, spending a lazy morning still in bed, laughing, and making his jokes. One minute he's making plans to go see some more doctors and get more tests done for the terrible pains he'd been experiencing for over four months in his chest and back and the next instant he says my mother's name and then closes his eyes and slips away. How is that even possible? How could this have happened? What will we all do without him? For the last four years I have been nearly inseparable from my parents having reached an age when all I wanted to do was hang out with them and do things together. The pain and loss I feel, the overwhelming sadness, and the confusion as to how and why this happened is on my mind night and day. My father was such a great man. He was the best dad, he was a great husband and friend to my mother, and he loved us all so much. He wasn't ready to go. We didn't want him to go. We wanted more time. Dammit this absolutely sucks.
These last three weeks have been a blur. The nights are the worst. I think about my dad and I just cry and cry. I can't sleep. It is little consolation when people say "He's in a better place. God has a plan for all of us. It was his time." Yes I've heard it all. Other people have suffered this kind of loss too. But this is the first loss of its kind for me. Not the deaths of my grandparents or my beloved uncle is equal to the hole I now have in my heart. I am going to miss my daddy so much that now that I won't see him again is when I tell him every day how much I love him. I should have said it more often when he was alive. Now is when we're being told to be strong, have faith, believe in God's will. I know all of that. But it doesn't make this sadness any less or the way we lost him fade from my mind.
In coping with this enormous loss of my dad I have come to the realization that truly life is too short to be wasting it on empty dreams and prayers put in the wrong place that God can not answer because He knows they are not right for me. My father always knew what was best for me. And God as my spiritual parent also knows what is best for me. So the time has come for me to cut the lead weights from my mind and heart and start making room for new beginnings.
First, I told my ex-boyfriend, Eric, from Austin, that I didn 't see any point to continuing a "relationship" over the phone with half-assed conversations. I gave him one opportunity after another to buck up and be what I needed him to be. He didn't do it. So I've cut him loose.
I've deleted the e-mails I got from a certain someone over the past year. I've deleted his addresses from my contacts list. And now I delete him from my heart. I waited for him to come around, hoped and prayed, that maybe, just maybe he would come back to me. But no. It was not meant to be. I'm done then. Just like I chose to love him once now I choose to cut him loose. He doesn't deserve my love and I will not give out now. I don't regret meeting him. But I learned my lesson and now I am moving on.
I've deleted someone else too. Someone who once made me cry in the middle of a crowded bar and who has never been a good friend anyway. Gone. Cut loose. I am tearing these people out of my life because I refuse to hand over to them any more of my energy and time.
I will keep my one Michael has a friend. FRIEND. Because though I meant what I said when I told him I loved him I also knew that it would be the beginning of the end. I choose to love him but now only as my friend.
I am facing my own mortality. And I have to choose how I live my life from here on out. I choose to keep close to me those people who I truly value and who truly value me. Somewhere my daddy is looking down on me from heaven and probably discovering things about me he never knew. But I know he would be proud of the decisions I am now taking and that I am finally all grown up.
Good-bye daddy. I love you and will miss you horribly. But death is not the end. We will be together again one day. Sleep and dream of all of us.
These last three weeks have been a blur. The nights are the worst. I think about my dad and I just cry and cry. I can't sleep. It is little consolation when people say "He's in a better place. God has a plan for all of us. It was his time." Yes I've heard it all. Other people have suffered this kind of loss too. But this is the first loss of its kind for me. Not the deaths of my grandparents or my beloved uncle is equal to the hole I now have in my heart. I am going to miss my daddy so much that now that I won't see him again is when I tell him every day how much I love him. I should have said it more often when he was alive. Now is when we're being told to be strong, have faith, believe in God's will. I know all of that. But it doesn't make this sadness any less or the way we lost him fade from my mind.
In coping with this enormous loss of my dad I have come to the realization that truly life is too short to be wasting it on empty dreams and prayers put in the wrong place that God can not answer because He knows they are not right for me. My father always knew what was best for me. And God as my spiritual parent also knows what is best for me. So the time has come for me to cut the lead weights from my mind and heart and start making room for new beginnings.
First, I told my ex-boyfriend, Eric, from Austin, that I didn 't see any point to continuing a "relationship" over the phone with half-assed conversations. I gave him one opportunity after another to buck up and be what I needed him to be. He didn't do it. So I've cut him loose.
I've deleted the e-mails I got from a certain someone over the past year. I've deleted his addresses from my contacts list. And now I delete him from my heart. I waited for him to come around, hoped and prayed, that maybe, just maybe he would come back to me. But no. It was not meant to be. I'm done then. Just like I chose to love him once now I choose to cut him loose. He doesn't deserve my love and I will not give out now. I don't regret meeting him. But I learned my lesson and now I am moving on.
I've deleted someone else too. Someone who once made me cry in the middle of a crowded bar and who has never been a good friend anyway. Gone. Cut loose. I am tearing these people out of my life because I refuse to hand over to them any more of my energy and time.
I will keep my one Michael has a friend. FRIEND. Because though I meant what I said when I told him I loved him I also knew that it would be the beginning of the end. I choose to love him but now only as my friend.
I am facing my own mortality. And I have to choose how I live my life from here on out. I choose to keep close to me those people who I truly value and who truly value me. Somewhere my daddy is looking down on me from heaven and probably discovering things about me he never knew. But I know he would be proud of the decisions I am now taking and that I am finally all grown up.
Good-bye daddy. I love you and will miss you horribly. But death is not the end. We will be together again one day. Sleep and dream of all of us.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Never a dull moment at Sherlock's Pub
I was out last night at the Westheimer/Beltway 8 Sherlock's Pub with a group of friends; Maria, David, Elva, Minnie, and Lisa. We're having some drinks, trying to make ourselves heard over the band playing Chili Peppers covers, and talking about possible camping trip plans for Memorial Day weekend. David, Maria's boyfriend, leaves us for a moment to go look for his misplaced cell phone. Elva is turned away talking to her sister and the other women. Maria and I are by ourselves, leaning against a bar, when two guys make a beeline straight for her. They start in with the usual pick-up lines "Hi. Where are you from? What's your name? What are you up to tonight?" Maria responds to each question with the requisite answers "My name's Maria. I'm from Venezuela. And I'm here with friends and waiting for my boyfriend." I stand there and wait to see if either of these fine specimens of neanderthal-ism will even attempt to speak to me. Very quickly I see that they have no intention of initiating any type of contact. When Maria said she was waiting for her boyfriend David as if on cue came back to join us and stepped in between Mr. Blond (totally forgot his name) and Mr. Eric(that name stuck since it's the name of one of my ex's). Mr. Blond and Mr. Eric turn to walk away and Mr. Blond says to Mr. Eric "Well, that was a total failure." Unable to contain myself any longer I turn to these two un-gentlemen and instigate what amounts to an interrogation. Here is the exact conversation:
Me: "Excuse me guys. I'm just curious. I'm standing right there next to my friend yet why did you two only talk to her and not to me?"
Mr. Eric: "Oh, I just happen to like Venezuelan women."
Me: "You didn't know she was Venezuelan until she told you."
Mr. Eric: "Well, I like Latin women."
Me: "And you don't think I'm a Latin woman?"
Mr. Eric: "Oh, I know you're a Latin woman. But see you were standing behind this other guy and we didn't see you. We saw your friend from behind and she had this long hair which I also happen to like."
Me: "Ah, ha..." I looked at them intently while I twirled the curled ends of my long red hair now past my shoulders. "Okay you guys. I really just wanted to know. Go have a good night." And I released them from my searing, penetrating gaze to let them go join the rest of their like-minded swinish brethren.
I was utterly offended. Not because I am jealous of Maria. I have never been jealous of Maria. I do plenty well on my own, idiots like the above notwithstanding. I was offended because those two were just bald-faced rude. Listen up men of the world who might happen to be reading this. Take a lesson from Manners and Etiquette While Out in Bars Looking for Women. If you and your friends are out someplace do try, no matter how hard it might be, to act like gentlemen. That means if you see two or more women standing around and you do decide to approach them then introduce yourselves to Everyone. Do not stand there and simply talk to one woman and completely ignore the other one. Yes, men will always be attracted to one more than the other but to stand there, pointedly talk to one woman and completely ignore the other one is absolutely the rudest thing men can possibly do. Well they can do other rude and stupid things too but let's stick to the point here. Why didn't the two goons just admit it? They zeroed in on Maria because the only difference between her and I is about 70 pounds. I admit to having a slight weight problem that I am taking care of but if some jerk is only going to be concerned about that then he's not for me anyway. The weight can always come off but stupidity, ignorance, and shallowness goes down deeper and there is no cure for that.
Far from letting that ruin my night I was down on the dance floor, dancing, drinking my Bloody Marys and Shiner, and talking to Elva. About an hour later from the incident with Mr. Blond and Mr. Eric, this dark skinned Latino guy comes over to me. He tells me his name, tells me he's from Bogota, Colombia then asks me my name, and asks me where I live. After every sentence and question is the word "baby" and Mr. Colombia also happened to have happy hands that kept trying to grab my ass and pull me closer to him. So I go from the extreme of having two guys ignore me to one guy who can't keep his hands off of me. Again, refer to the manual on Manners and Etiquette While Out in Bars Looking for Women. We don't like to be pawed over as if we were pieces of meat either. Oh, duh, I forgot I was in a meat market. Mr. Colombia obviously seeing he wasn't about to get lucky with the "gordita" said "I'll be right back, baby." He went off in search of his friends and I knew damn well he wasn't coming back. I was not about to wait around for him either. My friends and I finished our drinks and each headed off into the grainy foggy night to go home.
It proves my theory correct. Men trolling bars looking for women only want barbie doll sized women. The size 14/16 women like me are only last resort when it's last call in every bar in America. That's all fine and good guys. You want a barbie doll a barbie doll is exactly what you are going to get. And everyone knows barbie dolls are made out of cheap plastic with stiff moving joints and hollow heads.
Me: "Excuse me guys. I'm just curious. I'm standing right there next to my friend yet why did you two only talk to her and not to me?"
Mr. Eric: "Oh, I just happen to like Venezuelan women."
Me: "You didn't know she was Venezuelan until she told you."
Mr. Eric: "Well, I like Latin women."
Me: "And you don't think I'm a Latin woman?"
Mr. Eric: "Oh, I know you're a Latin woman. But see you were standing behind this other guy and we didn't see you. We saw your friend from behind and she had this long hair which I also happen to like."
Me: "Ah, ha..." I looked at them intently while I twirled the curled ends of my long red hair now past my shoulders. "Okay you guys. I really just wanted to know. Go have a good night." And I released them from my searing, penetrating gaze to let them go join the rest of their like-minded swinish brethren.
I was utterly offended. Not because I am jealous of Maria. I have never been jealous of Maria. I do plenty well on my own, idiots like the above notwithstanding. I was offended because those two were just bald-faced rude. Listen up men of the world who might happen to be reading this. Take a lesson from Manners and Etiquette While Out in Bars Looking for Women. If you and your friends are out someplace do try, no matter how hard it might be, to act like gentlemen. That means if you see two or more women standing around and you do decide to approach them then introduce yourselves to Everyone. Do not stand there and simply talk to one woman and completely ignore the other one. Yes, men will always be attracted to one more than the other but to stand there, pointedly talk to one woman and completely ignore the other one is absolutely the rudest thing men can possibly do. Well they can do other rude and stupid things too but let's stick to the point here. Why didn't the two goons just admit it? They zeroed in on Maria because the only difference between her and I is about 70 pounds. I admit to having a slight weight problem that I am taking care of but if some jerk is only going to be concerned about that then he's not for me anyway. The weight can always come off but stupidity, ignorance, and shallowness goes down deeper and there is no cure for that.
Far from letting that ruin my night I was down on the dance floor, dancing, drinking my Bloody Marys and Shiner, and talking to Elva. About an hour later from the incident with Mr. Blond and Mr. Eric, this dark skinned Latino guy comes over to me. He tells me his name, tells me he's from Bogota, Colombia then asks me my name, and asks me where I live. After every sentence and question is the word "baby" and Mr. Colombia also happened to have happy hands that kept trying to grab my ass and pull me closer to him. So I go from the extreme of having two guys ignore me to one guy who can't keep his hands off of me. Again, refer to the manual on Manners and Etiquette While Out in Bars Looking for Women. We don't like to be pawed over as if we were pieces of meat either. Oh, duh, I forgot I was in a meat market. Mr. Colombia obviously seeing he wasn't about to get lucky with the "gordita" said "I'll be right back, baby." He went off in search of his friends and I knew damn well he wasn't coming back. I was not about to wait around for him either. My friends and I finished our drinks and each headed off into the grainy foggy night to go home.
It proves my theory correct. Men trolling bars looking for women only want barbie doll sized women. The size 14/16 women like me are only last resort when it's last call in every bar in America. That's all fine and good guys. You want a barbie doll a barbie doll is exactly what you are going to get. And everyone knows barbie dolls are made out of cheap plastic with stiff moving joints and hollow heads.
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