Gary said, "Lisa, I have to confess something to you. I can't keep living this lie."
"Oh God," Lisa said. "You're gay."
"No, not that."
"Then you're leaving me and the kids."
"No. I'm ... I'm a writer!"
Lisa broke down into hysterics.
Gary tried to comfort her. "But, it's not like I'm leaving you and the kids!"
"It's worse!" she said. "You'll still be here - physically. But emotionally - you'll be somewhere we will never be able to reach you."
The Last Time I Saw Scotty
Scotty lived next door to me when I was a kid. The last time I saw him, he said, "I think mom wants to get rid of me."
"Why d'you say that?" I asked.
"Dunno," he said, "Just a funny feeling I get."
He left his X-Men comic at my house that day. The next day, when I went to take it back to him, I saw Scotty's mom in the garden, pruning her rose bushes.
"I came to bring Scotty's X-Men back," I said.
"Who?" she said.
"Scotty. Your son, Mrs. Bloomfield. Scotty."
"Sorry, Tom," she said, "But I don't have a son named Scotty."
She snipped a rose bloom off one of the stems. The red petals fell to the ground and spread upon the grass like two drops of blood.
I walked back to my house, the comic book still in hand. But I knew I would never want to read it again.
#horrorprompt 293: Two Drops
#horrorprompt 468 Poison Tree
"Dare ya!"
"No way!"
"Chicken?"
"To lick the poison tree? What's in it for me?"
"You won't be called a chicken, that's what."
"Why don't YOU?"
"Already did."
"And?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"You're fingers're crossed."
"... no they're not."
A Declaration on Race
After much observation of the human condition, I have come to the conclusion that, in order to fully embrace both my humanity and the humanity of all individuals, I must deny the concept of race.
This is not to deny that most humans, if not all (and admitting that I will always retain some prejudices concerning race), believe in the concept of race and adhere to those concepts fervently and zealously. However, it has become clear to me that seeing the world through the lens of racial divisions not only self-segregates populations, but also diminishes the humanity of the others in perceived "other groups"
In my current era, I understand that to write these words indicates that I have a certain economic and social advantage that affords me the liberty to explore this concept of denying racial identity. In colloquial terms, it's damn easy for my white privilege to let me pretend race doesn't exist. I do not deny that RACISM exists. I also do not deny that inherent structural inequities exist, that are clearly defined by racial boundaries. These inequities can, upon deeper investigation, be seen as more economic in their divisions than by race, but, in the United States of America at least, differences in social class is understood, discussed, and addressed through the lens of race.
... everyone is always telling me to "love myself" - I DO love myself. It's just that sometimes I end up cheating on myself.
Deconstructing WAP
1.
So when Megan Three Stallion says that she will write her name with her hips while straddling my erection, my thought is, "Print ... or Cursive?"
2.
Cardi B: Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy. Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy
Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy
OB/Gyn: Ms. B, you've been in labor for four hours now. Please focus and PUSH!
Intern and Nurse: There's some whores in this house! There's some whores in this house!
WAP lyrics
Song by Cardi B
I said, certified freak
Seven days a week
Wet-ass pussy
Make that pull-out game weak, woo (ah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy
Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy
Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy
Beat it up, nigga, catch a charge
Extra large and extra hard
Put this pussy right in your face
Swipe your nose like a credit card
Hop on top, I wanna ride
I do a kegel while it's inside
Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes
This pussy is wet, come take a dive
Tie me up like I'm surprised
Let's role play, I'll wear a disguise
I want you to park that big Mack truck
Right in this little garage
Make it cream, make me scream
Out in public, make a scene
I don't cook, I don't clean
But let me tell you how I got this ring (ayy, ayy)
Gobble me, swallow me, drip down the side of me (yeah)
Quick, jump out 'fore you let it get inside of me (yeah)
I tell him where to put it, never tell him where I'm 'bout to be
I'll run down on him 'fore I have a nigga running me (pow, pow)
Talk your shit, bite your lip (yeah)
Ask for a car while you ride that dick (while you ride that dick)
You really ain't never gotta fuck him for a thang (yeah)
He already made his mind up 'fore he came (ayy, ah)
Now get your boots and your coat (ah, ah, ah)
For this wet-ass pussy
He bought a phone just for pictures
Of this wet-ass pussy (click, click, click)
Pay my tuition just to kiss me
On this wet-ass pussy (mwah, mwah, mwah)
Now make it rain if you wanna
See some wet-ass pussy (yeah, yeah)
Look, I need a hard hitter, I need a deep stroker
I need a Henny drinker, I need a weed smoker
Not a garden snake, I need a king cobra
With a hook in it, hope it lean over
He got some money, then that's where I'm headed
Pussy A1, just like his credit
He got a beard, well, I'm tryna wet it
I let him taste it, now he diabetic
I don't wanna spit, I wanna gulp
I wanna gag, I wanna choke
I want you to touch that lil' dangly thing
That swing in the back of my throat
My head game is fire, punani Dasani
It's going in dry and it's coming out soggy
I ride on that thang like the cops is behind me (yeah, ah)
I spit on his mic and now he tryna sign me, woo
Your honor, I'm a freak bitch, handcuffs, leashes
Switch my wig, make him feel like he cheating
Put him on his knees, give him something to believe in
Never lost a fight, but I'm looking for a beating (ah)
In the food chain, I'm the one that eat ya
If he ate my ass, he's a bottom feeder
Big D stand for big demeanor
I could make you bust before I ever meet ya
If it don't hang, then he can't bang
You can't hurt my feelings, but I like pain
If he fuck me and ask, "Whose is it?"
When I ride the dick, I'ma spell my name
Ah (whores in this house)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy
Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy
Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy
Now from the top, make it drop
That's some wet-ass pussy
Now get a bucket and a mop
That's some wet-ass pussy
I'm talking WAP, WAP, WAP
That's some wet-ass pussy
Macaroni in a pot
That's some wet-ass pussy, huh
(There's some whores in this house)
(There's some whores in this house)
Take my hand, then,
and let's go
into the beautifully dark unknown.
What horrors await us, we
do not know,
but,
terrors can be tamed
when we do not have
to face them
alone.
MR
2021-0622
Grosse Fuge
Damn this personal prison. The mind. This brain inside this skull. This prison that has a window but no sound. I can see the keyboard before me, I can see the keys, I can feel them, I can feel the pressure under my fingers, I know that these keys press mallets that hit strings that cause vibrations that make sound, that make music.
I used to be able to hear them. Even as though only wet footsteps on some foggy moor, but now, only the pressure against my fingertips. How many keys have I broken, slamming them with these furious hands?
Still I cannot rest. I can never rest. Haunted by melodies of infinite complexity and such raging passions! I must write them, I must create them, I must give them to the world, to play and hear.
Oh! To hear! To hear the music! To be able to see if the violins are in tune, or if the cellist presses too hard with the thumb! To rely on the observations of friends does not help allay the absence of the joy of hearing the composition, as well as guiding the players to love the piece as I love the piece.
And now I am trapped. Trapped inside this prison with notes and motifs screaming against the walls of this cell, and there is nothing else I can do now, in this life, for these notes are my life. I have no other talent than this. My ears are gone but the music remains, driving me mad, leaving me to wonder what cruel God would give a man such a gift of music and take away his hearing.
He who has ears ... let him hear!
[Inspired by the following tweet:
]
WICKTIMS
... the victims of the assassin, John Wick. These are glimpses into their lives.
26. Filipe de la Rosa.
Always told his wife that he just watched telenovelas so that he could
hang out with her on the couch, but in truth, he always fell in love with the
lead actress and always cried happily (though quietly) whenever the family was
reunited at the end.
27. Charles Rivers. Had just ordered himself a stack of
business cards, reading “Charles ‘Deadeye’ Rivers – Gun for Hire. Never Misses.” Laminated, too. In four-colored card stock. He had ordered 1,000. Never even got the chance to put them in the
jar at his favorite restaurant.
28. Edgar Joseph.
His brother always told him that he had a problem with road rage. His ex-girlfriends always told their mutual
friends that he had a problem with rage all the time. He was constantly on edge and had punched
more than one wall.
29. Kaylee Ray Donovan.
Hasn’t seen her kids in over 6 months, ever since they were removed from
her custody after she broke a Crown Royal bottle over her boyfriend’s head,
requiring an overnight stay in the ER.
30. “Big Tom” Robinson.
Last weekend, took his daughter on a helicopter ride to the boardwalk by
the ocean. It was her 8th
birthday. She told him that he was the
greatest dad that there ever was.
WICKTIMS (21-25)
Being the victims of John Wick, across the span of three movies
21. Octavio Perez.
Had just hooked up with his old high school girlfriend through
Instagram. She was going to come down
from Buffalo to see him this weekend.
Her husband wouldn’t even know.
22. Luann Castillas.
Been with her partner for 10 years now.
They were going to get pregnant through in-vitro fertilization. They haven’t decided yet which one of them is
going to carry the child.
23. Storm Reeves. Has
recently downloaded a Digital Audio Workstation and was busy trying to find
samples to begin writing her own dance beats.
24. Philip Dickerson.
Was going to go see his mistress in Fredericksburg, TX, this
weekend. Not gonna make it now.
25. Darren Rosenberg.
Proud of winning the Fish Fry Championship three years in a row.
WICKTIMS
(Victims of the savage assassin skills of John Wick, across three movies, which is roughly six hours of film covering roughly one week timespan)
16. Billy Weathers. Always remembers the day that his father backhanded his mother and we went after the old man with a pitchfork and punctured his kidney. Billy was 6 years old at the time.
17. Channing Three Stallions. Realizes now that he should have gone into the army.
18. Timothy Lane Walton. Had just bought himself a new Jeep. It was a sweet black little number, and rides like a dream. Who is gonna get it now? He hopes his brother will take it. His brother could use a nice set of wheels.
19. Tommy Bocanegra. Wife just filed for divorce last month. He thinks she seeing that dentist. Tommy’s worried that she’s going to move him into the house. They have two little girls. Tommy doesn’t want some other man raising his daughters.
20. Trey Montenegro. Just came back from a honeymoon in Honduras. First time in his life that he ever got a tan without burning.
You are white and so your opinion doesn't matter.
Rita Moreno darkened her skin in West Side Story in 1961, so her opinion doesn't matter, either.
... these were two comments I encountered during the discussion of "In the Heights,"
a movie based on the Broadway play... the director has come under question almost immediately upon the theatrical release for not having darker skinned actors in the movie.
Regardless of the fact that Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic have a wide variety of skin tones among the population. In fact, a person can have two parent from both extremes of both melanin spectrums and not look like a blend, but rather, like one or the other.
We should be celebrating the fact that a movie has come out that portrays islander Latinos as something OTHER than cartel members, maids, or poor farmers escaping crushing poverty.
But no, let's use it yet again to air grievances, but hey! Apparently I don't have the right skin tone, so my opinion doesn't matter. And Rita Moreno, how DARE she defend this director! For Shame!
(I think my sarcasm can bleed through this page ...)
So. That said. What opinions matter? If a Puerto Rican's opinion doesn't matter on a Puerto Rican movie, then what opinion does matter? Does an opinion really matter only if it comes from the offended party? Or does an opinion matter from any person who lives in the culture, and thus is affected by the currents within that culture?
But then ... if the White Supremacists weren't so balls-up evil with their opinions then perhaps there could be some sort of discussion, but since they simply want to use the same language of those claiming to be oppressed in order to maintain their control over the social structure, then perhaps they have de-legitimized the opinion of other whites. I don't know.
All I know is that constant screaming at each other is unproductive. And I definitely know that arbitrary decisioning over the legitimacy of an opinion based on skin color is, itself, racist.
Yes, children, to say a white person can not have an opinion about race because of their race is racist. I know you hear that from the White Supremacists, but just because they are using it to be total assholes doesn't mean it's not a valid point.
Once we all can move past race, past the hurt and the race-baiting, past the deception and past the condescension and blame, only then can we move forward.
But that's just my opinion and it doesn't really matter.
https://www.ctvnews.ca/health/tick-that-makes-people-allergic-to-red-meat-spotted-in-ontario-1.4486154
From this article sent to me by a friend, I've been mulling over this idea for a few days. Finally, this morning, I awoke with this piece in mind:
Red Northern
I had just returned from a month in Toronto with my wife, nursing her ailing father. Didn't know things could change so quickly in my little town, but there I was, standing next to Sheriff Hap, looking down over what was left of Hiram Clarke.
Hiram, slumped in the corner of his kitchen, had sprayed his entire face over the walls with both barrels of his shotgun.
"Hiram was a tough old cuss," I said. "What do you think could make him do this?"
"Well, Doc," Hap said, "He got bit by a Red Northern tick, and after that, he came down with the damnedest allergy."
"Allergy?"
"He started having an allergic reaction to touching skin."
"Go on," I said.
"He just ... couldn't touch skin. Couldn't touch his wife, his kids, couldn't hold his new grandbaby. Hell, he couldn't even shake hands. He'd just break out in hives, whenever he touched another human being."
"Very strange."
Hap cinched up his pants by his belt-loops. "Y'know, Doc, I've seen men go wild. And I've seen men go mad. But not being able to have any human contact, not being able to hold your grandbaby! Well, I've never seen anything that could make a man go downhill THAT FAST!"
She could never understand why he wanted to stay home.
Reading.
All he wanted to do was read.
So boring.
She had to get out. Do something.
Go shopping.
Go see a movie.
Go to a museum.
Go antiquing.
SOMETHING!
But books, all he wanted to do was read.
Even when he went with her, she drove, and he just stared out the window.
What was he thinking?
Finally she asked, "What are you thinking?"
"All my stories that I have drowned in the river of these waters of 'other things'," he replied.
And she still did not understand what he was talking about, but they pulled into the parking lot of the home goods store and they went inside to buy some throw pillows and a summer wreath for the front door.
"Sex is a matter of survival," she said.
"You DO want the human race to continue, don't you?"
Her finger lightly traced a line from my chest, downward.
"Oh, I suppose!" I said, smiling. "For humanity!"
"For humanity!" she replied.
#erotica280 628 Survival
Pressed Against You
When the world
is
pressed against
you,
you create
space
either my
making art
or making war.
From #mentalhealthprompts 2.4 Pressed Against You
MR
2021-0601
Elisa (a fragment)
Elisa got a
tattooed sleeve
and she’s
saving up for another
Elisa says the
men always leave
Just go and ask
her mother.
Elisa’s tired
of the bump n grind
Working tables
for tips
MR
sometime in June 2021
