Trip Down the Rabbit Hole

PRESIDENT OBAMA

2008-11-04T22:16:00.003-06:00

The American dream is still alive.
Hope has been restored to the people of our nation and around the world.
History has been made tonight.
My faith is renewed in my fellow Americans.

David Sedaris Says It Best

2008-10-30T10:30:00.001-05:00

http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2008/10/27/081027sh_shouts_sedaris

If You Need a Reason to Vote

2008-10-30T10:18:00.001-05:00

Letter of the Day - Q

2008-10-29T16:28:00.000-05:00

This is for you, baby. : )

Now, This I Remember

2008-10-29T16:13:00.000-05:00

I Don't Remember it Like This

2008-10-29T16:11:00.000-05:00

Would you put this in your kid's lunchbox?

2008-10-29T16:04:00.004-05:00

The Banana Bunker

http://ping.fm/Xcfjz

Think!

2008-10-29T16:02:00.000-05:00

Do you want to be counted with these people?
http://www.motherjones.com/mojoblog/archives/2008/10/10526_mojo_video_palin_for_president.html

Literary History

2008-10-28T17:32:00.001-05:00

This paper has me feeling like Don Music.

Let the Woman Speak

2008-10-15T21:53:00.002-05:00

Okay, she's not Tina Fey. She's not Hilary Clinton. Thank God she is not Sarah Palin. Yet, it is with a bit of chagrin that I find myself holding some admiration for Britney Spears. But hell, she had a weird childhood, she had a series of breakdowns, and she seems to have bounced back. Heck, we've all had a Kevin Federline in our past, and thankfully didn't have to experience it under the glare of the paparazzi. So, I think the woman deserves some props.

Love Fey

2008-10-07T14:47:00.000-05:00

Palin/Biden

2008-10-07T14:31:00.001-05:00

Fey vs. Palin

2008-10-07T14:26:00.001-05:00

Post Turtle

2008-10-07T14:12:00.002-05:00

While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75-year old rancher whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually, the topic got around to Sarah Palin and her bid to be a heartbeat away from being President.

The old rancher said, "Well, ya know, Sarah Palin is a post turtle." Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a post turtle was.

The old rancher said, "When you're driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle."

The old rancher saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain. "You know she didn't get up there by herself, she doesn't belong up there, she doesn't know what to do while she is up there, and you wonder what kind of dumb ass put her there to begin with."

Eve Ensler Sums It Up

2008-10-02T13:49:00.001-05:00

"Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for "The Vagina Monologues", wrote the following about Sarah Palin."
>
Drill, Drill, Drill
I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.

I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists. But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.

I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country chose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.

Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan.

She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, "It was a task from God."

Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not. She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.

Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States. She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.

Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.

Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.

I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.

If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, "Drill Drill Drill." I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.

Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?

Eve Ensler

September 5, 2008

Bedford Falls Sends Mr. Potter Packing

2008-09-29T14:45:00.002-05:00

It looks like the hardworking, paycheck-to-paycheck citizens are not so keen on bailing out the big bankers.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/30/business/30bailout.html

Can We Get Back the Future?

2008-09-29T14:25:00.006-05:00

Somebody call Michael J. Fox! Put Congress in a DeLorean and get our future back, because right now we are spinning backwards.

FDR in 1933: “There Must Be a Strict Supervision of All Banking and Credits and Investments. There Must Be an End to Speculation with Other People’s Money.”

http://www.democracynow.org/2008/9/29/adam_cohen_on_nothing_to_fear

Mad Hatter Hottie!

2008-09-29T10:45:00.004-05:00

Tim Burton is producing his version of Alice in Wonderland with Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter! Tim Burton, you've been reading my mind. I have one request. May I PLEASE play the part of Alice?

http://www.variety.com/VR1117992798.html

Shana Tova 5769

2008-09-28T18:39:00.001-05:00

Democracy is Coming to the USA

2008-09-17T22:35:00.006-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5g8CA5ltR8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ma0NkGp9H8

Yes, We Can.

2008-09-17T22:35:00.003-05:00

Wake Up

2008-09-17T09:15:00.002-05:00

Alice woke up! And so should you!

http://digitalroam.typepad.com/digital_roam/2008/09/dear-senators-your-politics-are-showing.html

Shhhhhh! Alice is sleeping.

2008-08-26T23:23:00.003-05:00

Alice has fallen into a deep sleep. She is dreaming of school books, students, buses and backpacks. She is dreaming of tea parties and gardens. And she is avoiding the lurker that turns Alice's personal remarks and poetry into fodder for lame attempts at humor. Alice is too busy to bother with buffoonery.

Happy Birthday!

2008-08-01T13:22:00.003-05:00

A Very Merry Birthday wish to the Queen of Hearts.

Happy Birthday, Sa.

Love,

Alice

Unexpected News

2008-07-25T12:27:00.003-05:00

Life is full of the unexpected. The unexpected things that happened in my world this week read like newspaper headlines.

Free Education Costs are Climbing

The cost of a public school education for Kindergarten in the U.S. is supposed to be free. But so far it has cost me over $100 in mandatory school supplies.

79 year-old Great-Grandmother Throws-Out Back from Belly Dancing

My grandma is out of control with walking in the sweltering heat, and doing exercise shows she watches on cable. Meanwhile, I'm hoping that walking up and down the stairs to do laundry will help shed that extra 10lbs.

The Difference

2008-07-18T09:20:00.006-05:00

School is just around the corner, and I'm getting organized. I've purchased some school supplies and a book bag for Bella. I've picked-up books and a mountain of paperwork. I decided it would be best to 3-hole punch these papers and organize them in a binder. A simple solution, or so I thought.

I went to OfficeMax, and I was floored to discover the price of a 3-hole punch, $69. What? What the hell does it do? Then I noticed that there was a different model for each decreasing $10 increment. I purchased the $9 version. What could possibly be the difference?

At 1 a.m., when I decided to work on my little project, I discovered the difference. I sat on my bed with the pile of papers, an open binder, and my new 3-hole punch. I suspected, correctly, that the $9 version would only allow a minimal amount of papers to be punched at a time. I also discovered the lever would stick. But it was with chagrin that I had to face the third "punch," which also stuck - every time. This initially resulted in getting a 2-hole punch. So, I problem solved. I got a butter knife.

Armed with blunt cutlery, I made my way through the night pushing a stubborn lever and knocking the last punch with the handle of the knife in an elfin-hammer-like-tap to make it release.

Apparently, a butter knife is the difference between a $9 and $62 dollar hole punch.

Ain't No Cure

2008-07-18T09:13:00.001-05:00

What Ya Waiting For?

2008-07-17T22:38:00.000-05:00

Alice

2008-07-17T22:23:00.003-05:00

by Shel Silverstein

She drank from a bottle that said drink me
And she grew up so tall
She ate from a plate called taste me
And she shrank so small
And so she changed
while other folks
never tried nothing at all

This is beautiful:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRImfyPUGN0

Silent Alice

2008-07-17T22:21:00.000-05:00

Six Flags Drama

2008-07-12T12:22:00.002-05:00

It was hot. We put on our swimsuits. Jonathan and I headed out to get a locker and inner tubes. Amber, Kayla, and Bella headed to the bathrooms. We'd been at the water park for a total of 10 minutes tops. I rounded the corner calling, "Amber." We need the girls to get their bracelets put on. At the same time, Amber was calling, "Leah." She had Bella in tow and Kayla in her arms. Kayla's lips were white. Her eyes were large. She said, "I can't see." We got her into the shade.

Good Samaritans gave us a bottle of water, fanned Kayla, and I kept her head between her knees. Amber and Bella went to fetch Jonathan. Another good Samaritan fetched first aid for me. I get a cold cloth on the back of her neck, and a wheelchair appears. We are following closely on the heels of the first aid man.

They get her into the AC, prick her finger and test her blood sugar levels, give her more cold water, put her on a cot, and clean the cut on her chin. She had stepped out of the bathroom and fainted when no one was with her. She can't really remember what happened. After about 10 or 15 minutes, she was released.

It was an odd start to the day. But she felt well enough to brave the roller coasters just a few hours later. We spent the day at the amusement park, but this was by far the most dramatic part.

Poop, There It Is

2008-07-10T22:10:00.002-05:00

I introduced a new litter system at the beginning of the month. Tidy Cats Breeze. After a few days, one of the cats started using it to pee. But no poop! I knew the transition could be yucky and long. You are not suppose to clean the old litter box during the transition time. This is to encourage the cat to use the new clean box. However, since I was only trying to transition KC to the Breeze system he just transferred to Kafka's box when his became disgusting. So, I took his box away. That was a week ago. Tonight, Kafka pooped in the Breeze box. I was so excited. It seems KC has taken over Kafka's old box and Kafka moved into the Breeze box. I wonder what will happen if I get a second Breeze box.

Sex in the City

2008-07-08T11:22:00.002-05:00

As the credits rolled across the screen, I turned toward my step-daughters in the darkened theater and said, "So, how did you like the porno?"

I had to say something. I did not expect so much nudity. Naive of me. I mean it is in the title. I am a fan of the show. What did I expect? I expected fashion. I did not expect what would clearly qualify as soft porn. I was not offended. I was just uncomfortable to be sitting there with my 17 and 15 year-old step-daughters. Most of the scenes clipped on by and I could somewhat forget the nudity, except for the continually head-bowing and eye shielding performed by Amber with every love scene. Then, then it was Samantha's lusting after her neighbor that did me in. As the camera moved in and detailed the nude showering neighbor, there it was. Quickly, but quite clearly a penis on screen.

"A penis, nice penis, Oh, my god a penis. That is probably the first penis Kayla's ever seen! Oh, crap. Who suggested I take the girls to this movie? My Dad! Oh, he's going to hear about this."

And he did. Although, as he's never seen the movie or the show he was under the impression it was really all about shopping. Oh, well. Penis done. I mean damage done. What else are step-mother's for, right? I mean at least I didn't make them clean anything.

Absence

2008-07-02T21:34:00.003-05:00

Home is not home when you're not here,
and every breath is weighted with wanting.
The door hangs open distilling the air
lunt anticipation jumping -
and in climbs the odor of surgical lusting.

Supreme Court Does Not Use Supreme Judgement

2008-06-25T17:04:00.002-05:00

The Supreme Court overturned a death sentence in Louisiana. The death sentence was for the rape of an 8 year-old girl. The Supreme Court stated that the death penalty would be cruel and unusual punishment for rape of child, if the child lives. I heartily disagree. They went on to cite the trauma that the ongoing court case would inflict upon the victim if the death penalty was sought. I think this is an excuse. I think this is another case where the victim pays the price. There is not a crime more heinous than those committed against children. These children lived through a fate worse than death. I think a person that commits rape of a child has forfeited their right to live. Here's the link for your review. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/26/washington/26scotuscnd.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

It Started with the Trash

2008-06-25T16:13:00.003-05:00

I hate to take out my trash. It is a pain in the butt. I have to lug it down my steep driveway, and I have to time it just right. The trash company states, "Have trash out by 6 a.m." Who the hell are they kidding? They never come till sometime in after noon. So, I wait. The problem is two-fold. 1. Gravity 2. Critters. Yes, I typed critters. I live in a sometime ruralesque area. If the raccoons, opossums, or groundhogs knock over the cans and get into the trash I have a big mess.

A few weeks back it was a cat that made the mess. And she continued to hang around the house, making K.C. and Kafka (both fixed) very excited. I named her mischief. I put out a bowl of water. It was so hot.

Last week, we noted three kittens and Mischief hanging out on the deck and patio. They are living and lounging about my backyard. Now, I put out cat food and water. They're better than mice and snakes. And they are still hunting as I found feathers on the patio yesterday. Bella has named the kittens Basil, Cutey and Shade.

Today, there was a new cat. It looks just like the kittens, but it is bigger and trim. Mischief is fluffy. We are guessing this to be Daddy Cat. I think I have become the crazy cat lady in the neighborhood.

Changed My Tune

2008-06-25T15:59:00.003-05:00

When I was in my late teens, a friend posed a question to a group of us. "If life were like a movie, what song would you select to be your theme music?" At the time I selected, "Every Breath You Take" by The Police.

I don't know why other than I love it. But after all these years I've selected a new song. Mind you, I'm not comparing myself to this man. I'm just letting a few things go.

What's your theme music?

Quote

2008-06-25T09:17:00.001-05:00

An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex.
- Aldous Huxley

Sad Day for Comedy

2008-06-23T12:04:00.002-05:00

I was shocked to hear of George Carlin's passing. I was a fan, and in an odd way I felt like I knew him as my ex-father-in-law was an exact replica of the man.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/06/23/carlin.obit/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

Dim Light Bulb

2008-06-20T16:20:00.002-05:00

Okay, the light bulb argument seemed sound. But this argument? Quoting the founder of the KKK? Ahem. Are we short on common sense in Congress? Are they rationing it? Do they take turns with it? Because the rep. from Texas doesn't look so sensible on this day.

What a Bright Idea!

2008-06-20T16:15:00.001-05:00

Or not. Here is a wonderful alert from Sa. What is wrong with our Congress?

Vote of No Confidence

2008-06-20T10:29:00.006-05:00

My family, particularly Nana and Bella, have some interesting opinions on my jobs/career. Recently, I have volunteered to tutor children in summer school. This week after tutoring, Nana, Grandma, Bella and I gathered to head out to Grant's Farm. The following conversation took place in the backseat.
"Leah, how was your tooting?"
Bella was beside her self with laughter.
"No, Nana. Tutoring. That R is very important."

No matter. When I worked at the mall selling troll dolls as a teenager, Nana told people I worked at the mall selling Trojans. Trojans to tooting. I think it's getting better?

However, since I was let go in March it seems it has dampened Bella's opinion of my ability to hold down a job. She confided in my mom, "I think Mommy is going to get fired from tutoring." And when we visited Jonathan for lunch this week she announced, "Hey, this is where you sat at Fire Island."

Alice Remix

2008-06-18T22:57:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the heads-up on this one from Zigphroid.

F.G.

2008-06-18T22:23:00.002-05:00

I decided it was time to stop leaving things to chance. I had to get organized. And so, I made a wish list for my fairy godmother. Contrary to popular opinion, fairy godmother's are not mind readers. And as I have recently deduced that my guardian angel is retarded, I decided to focus my communicatons on the big F. G. Here is my list:

I wish to always be a size 2.
I wish to have another baby.
I wish for good health.
I wish for an end to financial woes.
I wish for peace and stability in Israel.
I wish to be adored, at least by a few people.
I wish to achieve commercial success as a writer.

Since 7 is often considered a lucky number, I decided to end the list. Now, I was faced with the problem of getting the list to her. So, I covered my bases. I stuck a copy under my pillow. I nailed a sock to the mantel and stuffed another copy in there. I put a list under the artificial palm next to a plate of bagels and lox. (I believe my F.G. to be Jewish) And I posted it here. We'll see how it goes. : )

Outings with My Babe

2008-06-18T16:04:00.002-05:00

On Monday
I rushed Bella out the door in her bikini with the bottle of sunscreen, beach towel, ear plugs, and goggles in tow. Just to arrive at the pool and discover we weren't late, but a week early. Apparently there is a week break between the sessions. Crap.

Not to be daunted, I took her in the locker room; changed her into her clothes and headed to Grant's Farm. We pulled up to the barricaded parking lot and read the sign. Apparently Grant's Farm is closed on Mondays. Crap. We called Nana. No answer. Crap.

We were on our way to the Science Center. They were open. We played with exhibits such as the laser harp, we pushed buttons, made silly putty and even washed our hands in the do-everything-for-you sinks in the bathroom. Then we went to the Star Show where we snuggled close together on our mats and watched in awe.

After all of this fun we were tired and hungry. So, I took her to Fitz's. We got a rock star parking spot, and I was dying to get a root beer. Bella was feeling a little peeved about the lunch choice. She wanted Taco Bell, again.

"You can't have Taco Bell everyday."
"I knew you were the devil."*
"What?!"
As I stand there aghast in the parking lot behind Fitz's, I'm met with silence.
"Do you even know what that means?"
More silence with a growing look of regret.
"A devil is a mean, hateful person that kills people."
(Okay, I went a little overboard with my definition. But seriously, I'm standing in the heat; I've spent all day catering to her just to be told I'm the devil?)
Now, she's crying. I comfort her and we go in and fill our tummies with food and root beer.

On Wednesday
I get Bella out the door with minimal rushing. We get everywhere on time. We have lunch with Jonathan in an adult restaurant. At first we were met with tears because it wasn't Taco Bell. But Jonathan worked her past it. Then we walked to where I had a client meeting. She played her game boy. She was well behaved. The client was understanding. As I buckled her into the car to head back home...
"Mommy when you die I'm going to throw you a funereal."**
I kissed her and drove home.

*I have ascertained that her knowledge of a devil comes from emoticons.
** I have no idea about the funereal remark.

Picking Strawberries

2008-06-07T23:33:00.002-05:00

- for Jonathan

Your kisses burst
in my mouth
with the fragility of a blue-blood strawberry.

Tender; sweet, your fingers plumb
the depths of me.
You are soiled with my sweat,
my fertile want.

Assembly Required

2008-06-06T12:52:00.000-05:00

As I sit here in silence, on the verge of a primal scream, I fight back the tears, type and wish. My attempt to assemble a bedside table for my daughter has failed. The instructions failed me, and I failed. At the end of the project, as I attempted to slide in the drawers I realized that a main wall was installed upside down. Lovely. Lovely. This will require a great deal of unscrewing and screwing.

So, I stepped away from the project and turned on the computer. In my failure, I have realized three things.
1. I have serious procrastination issues when it comes to writing.
2. I wish I had a power drill.
3. I have an innate ability to fall for men that are not compatible with my life plan.

Three may seem like a big jump from out of the blue. I’ll explain. If I had a husband I’d have a power drill. But wait there’s more! If I had a husband I wouldn’t have to bother my father for every physical labor or “man” task I did not learn growing up. I would not have to have my father escort me to events and be my sole supporter of my career. I would not have to kick around child rearing issues and concerns with him. I love my dad, but I don’t want to be married to him. I’d like a husband of my own. And I feel as if I’ve never had one, because even when I was married, that man was not good at half this stuff. So, why did I marry him? Why did I date any of the men in my past? Why do I fall for men that don’t want what I want? Why?

It’s not like I want something radical. I want a nice family life complete with children, vacations, holidays, etc. It’s pretty standard stuff. My life is way more exciting than my dreams. But why is it so unattainable? I don’t know. And why has this crappy bedside table driven me to this rant? Admittedly I am PMSing. But I am still left on my own with this damn table, and I can’t help but think how things could be different if only….

Here Fishy, Fishy, Fishy

2008-05-25T23:50:00.001-05:00

We went fishing. I was a little worried that the fondness I recall from childhood would be lost there, but I had a wonderful time. I loved learning things I did not learn as a child due to both my youth and gender. I loved fishing with my daughter. We worked together and laughed. I loved the tenderness, which he provided and assisted us in our fishing escapade. It was a lovely day even if no one caught a darn thing. It was nice to know the warmth and fun I remember of fishing is still there. I can’t wait to fish again.

Fragile

2008-05-25T23:43:00.001-05:00

fearless

No Directions

2008-05-25T23:42:00.001-05:00

Time is palpable, limited and the choices are defining.
Childhood dreams, equations with muddled sums,
linger, leave me, and blur the lines of idealism and realism.
Isms are not content.

Eat, sleep, eat, sleep, eat, these are steady fixtures,
silos of energy to feed the unknown dream I fear to live,
the regret I endeavor to evade.

I Don't Want to Live on the Moon

2008-05-21T17:48:00.001-05:00

Looking Through A Glass

2008-05-19T21:55:00.004-05:00

Mosquitoes took suck from her ankles.
She felt the warmth of a burgeoning summer
rising from the fresh tilled earth;
from the sun-baked cedar beams beneath
the exposed soles of her feet.

"Are you yesterday?"

The moment was swollen with humidity and hope.

Candlelight caught in her wine glass, gleaming
through cheap Chablis.
She measured him.
She measured him in sips, in time, in sips
with the mind of a nervous student,
with the carnal knowledge of a lover,
with swilled wine.

She measured first with one eye, then the other, and both.
She measured him across distances
of communication,
the curvature of the glass,
across the table, and
with a widow's heart.

"Are you tomorrow?"

My Thought

2008-05-19T21:55:00.001-05:00

The problem with society is all the damn people.

Reflected

2008-05-19T09:46:00.001-05:00

esrever ni efil gnivil
htrib erofeb htaed
degnihnu seiromem

Gravity of Love

2008-05-18T21:04:00.004-05:00

Under the Sun, deep in your embrace, "I love you" is sweet and light like fine spun sugar.
Under the master, your servant in bed, "I love you" is desperate and breathless like a spent virgin.
Under the weight of time, the clutter of everyday, "I love you" is vulnerable and bold like a spoken truth.

Postcard from Bed

2008-05-18T21:03:00.001-05:00

Wish you were here to fill the empty space in my bed.
Wish you were here to snuggle; to feel your breath upon my skin; to know you; to taste you; to take you in.

Recall Fate

2008-05-18T20:55:00.003-05:00

He sat in a trailer in a suit. His hair was white and his glasses thick. He chewed tobacco and walked with a silver cane. He liked ice cream. He always had ice cream.
He was only interested in dad, and his scant surroundings made me uncomfortable. I studied his eye movements and his line of questioning. He was still in love with my grandma, his ex-wife, his second wife.
How was I to know there was something deeper? A genetic code that writ a world only he and I would know.
Standing in the shadow of a jungle, a little girl with a lion's roar.

I Feel Better

2008-05-12T10:48:00.000-05:00

Violent Femme Looking for a Good Feeling

2008-05-08T00:15:00.001-05:00

Shakespeare Sonnet 73

2008-05-07T23:24:00.000-05:00

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Quicksand

2008-05-07T23:22:00.001-05:00

I dance on quicksand,
knowing the world is adrift.
Ensnared in perversion,
it's tangible, it sticks.

Tooth Trouble

2008-05-05T14:45:00.003-05:00

The Tooth Fairy

Bella plays with a little finger puppet. It is a blue fairy. She has decided it is the tooth fairy.
Bella puts the tooth fairy in a little plastic treasure chest. She has decided it is the tooth fairy's castle. Bella peeks in at the tooth fairy; then looks up at me, "Oh, oh. She's in trouble. She's pregnant."
"What?"
"Oh, never mind it was a false alarm."

I make a mental note not to play the movie Grease again.

Tooth Fairy Revenge?

This one isn't funny. My little darling refused to let us do anything at Dr. Stephanie's. She would not take any form of pain medication. And her cavities have gotten worse, plus now she has an abscess. We have her on antibiotics, and we are scheduled for x-rays and a consultation. She will have to go under to have all the cavities filled and the baby root canal performed. I'm very nervous.

Bella said...

2008-05-05T14:41:00.002-05:00

"Mommy, your bedroom smells like your breath."

"Watch out there's liver on the floor."
"What?"
"There's cat liver on the floor."
"Oh, you mean cat litter. Liver is an organ in your body."
"Oh, like tinsels."
"What?"
"Tinsels. You know when Lexi had her tinsels taken out?"

The Discomforts of Home

2008-05-05T14:33:00.003-05:00

The chandelier
I have discovered that the chandelier went out of fashion for a practical reason. It does not have a fan. I sit in the Alice room. I sit under the beautiful wrought iron and crystal chandelier. I sit with the window open, and nothing. No breeze. No playful flutter of the papers on my desk. It's hot.

The Smells
When you adopt a cat you adopt smell. I adopted two cats. They each have their own litter box. Both are kept in the lower level of our home. I use Tidy Cats litter "multiple strengths for multiple cats." I scoop. I clean. I sweep. I bought a Renuzit. Apparently this seemed like such a good idea to KC that I came home to find the Renuzit in the litter box. I bought a new Renuzit - Honeysuckle/Vanilla scent. Now, when you enter the house you catch a whiff of the vanilla - like fresh baked cookies and you instinctively take a deeper whiff and get cat poop. So, essentially when you enter my home it smells like we are baking cat poop cookies.

Birthday Magic

2008-04-30T00:40:00.004-05:00

Twenty-five years ago, I wished to see Barry Manilow in concert. After spending nearly two weeks sick on the sofa watching my favorite musician on Showtime, I was consumed with the concept of seeing him in concert. When my birthday cake appeared in 1983 I wished that someday I would go to a Barry Manilow concert. This past Friday, nearly 25 years to the day my birthday wish came true. It was everything I had ever hoped for, and I was a little girl again for a night. I screamed and I sang and I smiled. Birthday wishes can come true.

Facing Facts and Fears

2008-04-30T00:33:00.002-05:00

I faced facts and my fears yesterday. I had been promising to take Bella to the indoor pool in our community. I had also come to the realization that I needed to lose 15lbs. So, we packed our things and headed to the rec center where I would be able to work out and then together we could go swimming. The only problem - all I own are bikinis - bikinis from when I was happy with my figure. Obvious solution: we stop at TJ Max to shop for a one piece. They had one in my size, and it wasn't exactly in my size. So, I did what any mom would do. I went to the pool with my daughter, signed her up for swim lessons, and I put last summer's bikini on my pasty 15lbs heavier body. I would not do this for anyone else on the entire planet. Then we came home and made rice krispy treats.

My Eye

2008-04-30T00:13:00.003-05:00

A year ago my optometrist set me up with a new cleaning system. "Do not put this cleanser in your eye. Make sure you store the contact properly when using this cleanser," he said. "What will happen if I don't?"

What happens is I put a seemingly harmless contact into my eye. However, this contact is filled with hazardous chemicals that immediately sear into my eyeball, which causes my eye to clamp shut like a vice. The palm of my fist thrusts into my clamped eye, my feet stomp around in an Indian (yes, I said Indian) rain dance style, and shouts of profanity spring forth from my mouth. Amidst the screams, tears, and cursing I dance back and forth from the mirror trying in desperation to pry open my eyelids and release the contact from hell, while Bella races in and says, "Mommy! What's wrong? Are you okay?"

With the contact expelled, I flush my eye with cool water, dab my face with a towel and enter the living room. Bella is calmly stretched out on the over sized chair watching cartoons, when she looks up at me she says, "Mommy! Is your eye bleeding?"
"No, it's just really irritated. I'll be okay. But I want to apologize for the bad words I said."
"That's okay. I didn't even recognize those words."

Alice Rocks!

2008-04-24T23:51:00.002-05:00

Alice on the Wall

CRAZY

Go Ask Alice - White Rabbit

Alice in the Sky with Diamonds

Alice in Wonderland in Hebrew

2008-04-24T23:33:00.000-05:00

What Was That?

2008-04-24T21:57:00.002-05:00

Finally, it's that time of year when you can sleep with the windows cracked open. You can feel the soft, cool breeze. You can listen to the cicadas. In fact, you can hear all the noises of the night.

I know I have a lot of critters living on my property and the property right behind me. I know there are lizards, black snakes, garter snakes, and copper head snakes, little spiders, big spiders, the middle of the night make an emergency call to pest control wolf spider, field mice, owls, turkey buzzards, turkeys, raccoons, opossums, groundhog - that's Colonel Redbarn to be exact, stray cats, cardinals, blue jays, rabbits, and cows. But last night. Last night I could have sworn there was a monkey doing battle with a pigeon.

Love Falls Quietly

2008-04-23T01:26:00.001-05:00

Love falls quietly with the rain.
It puddles at my doorstep.
It flows in a stream down your street.
I take your arm.
I take a step.
I get my feet wet.

Reminder

2008-04-23T01:23:00.002-05:00

Remind me to get milk.
Remind me to mail that bill.
Remind me to call her back.
Remind me to feed the cats.
Remind me to save the date.
Remind me to order the cake.
Remind me to not fall for you.
I have so much to remember to do.

OW!

2008-04-23T01:20:00.002-05:00

When spring is beyond the thaw, when it is wet and warm, when socks are discarded and toes are painted - peeking out like flowers in bloom, bare feet slip and rub becoming raw in flip flops, ballet slippers, and sandals.
It's blister season. It's band-aid season.

1903

2008-04-22T00:25:00.001-05:00

Today's Theme: Feet

2008-04-21T23:33:00.006-05:00

This morning as I deal with the red tape of our government - oh joy! I also deal with the shoe issues of my child. I'm in a hurry. I don't have time for any of this as I have an appointment to get fingerprinted. I get off the phone and never get the promised return call from the unemployment office.

Bella resolves our issue by kicking me. I bark, "Hey!" Bella runs off crying and slams the door to her room. Nonna just happens to be in there (I think she's looking for more things to steal from Bella to use on her next date). I can't hear what Nonna says, but I hear Bella bemoan, "Nothing!" then "When Mommy yells at me I know she doesn't want to have anything to do with me." (I did not yell) When she settles down I go into her room and we have a little talk. The issue has now been resolved. Nonna and I stand at the foot of Bella's bed. Bella exits down the hall to fetch her socks and shoes saying, "I'll just kick you again."

After a second talk, we are in the car on our way to the fingerprinting I'm late for. Happily, I discover that they no longer do this with ink and paper. Did you know that? Rather they keep swabbing your fingers and rub them on a glass slide. Your fingerprint is captured electronically.

The rest of the day involved the park, grocery store, and two different shoe stores until Bella got a pair of Skechers with plenty of bling. Thus the lesson I taught my daughter, kick me with your bare foot and I'll buy you new shoes. Hmm. I might have been a better parent when I worked full-time. Of course, then I would have been able to afford the Lelli Kelli's she wanted, rather than the Skechers she happily settled for.

Her Dream Date

2008-04-21T22:52:00.006-05:00

While my daughter has long since stripped Prince Charming, Ken, of his clothes and tossed him behind a chair, she is not without her dreams of dating. The entire family became keenly aware of this over the weekend, when a harmless joke was revealed as all too serious to Bella.

A cousin got married this weekend, my brother and I decided to carpool as I don't want to tool around Granite City alone. My brother said, "What color are you wearing Bella?" "PINK!" "Okay, I'll get a pink tie and be your date."

He picked us up sporting his lovely pink tie, and we attended the ceremony with minimal mishaps.

Mishap 1:
Seated directly in front of us was my Aunt and ex-Aunt. My Uncle's first wife and now second wife. Seated directly behind us was my Uncle's Ex-fiance, a relationship that last my entire childhood. Awkward.

Mishap 2:
After shaking hands with the all of the people behind us, my brother over hears the following "How's your eye?" "I'm trying not to touch it. I don't want it to get all pink and ooze, again."

My brother then demands I not touch my daughter. I trust he has good reason, but I can not imagine why. He types the "pink eye" alert into his phone, which is then passed down the pew. Thankfully, Aunt Mary arrives with hand sanitizer.

Near Mishap:
As my Uncle walks my cousin down the aisle, Bella turns to my mother and quietly asks, "Why did they have the baby shower before the wedding?"

You may now kiss the bride, and we are off to Walgreens for more hand sanitizer and alcohol swabs. Finally, after a stint of killing time between wedding and reception we are seated. My brother and I watch the clock and go out for periodic "sky watch" hoping that the Italian dinner will be served before sundown. Italian dinner means a lot of pasta and breaded meat. Sundown this past Saturday meant Passover for us.

Mmmmm. Vegetables and chicken scraped clean. During dinner, Bella interrupts my brother with a kiss and turns to her little friend, "SEE!" "What was that all about?" I said.

Finally, the dancing begins! My brother takes Bella out on the dance floor. My Dad dances with my mom. Next slow song, I'm dancing with my Dad when we can hear Bella cry over the crowd and music. I leave the dance floor wondering what is wrong. Her little friend explains, "She can't find her date." We turn to see my brother on the dance floor with that hussy Nonna. How dare my grandma steal my daughter's date! Nothing can console Bella, but to have her date returned to her. A long evening ends with Bella once again in tears over not catching the bouquet and her swearing off dating and weddings for the rest of her life.

When we get home my brother carries her up to her room and tucks her in bed. I think the boys of the future have some big shoes to fill.

I Feel the Earth Move

2008-04-18T12:16:00.000-05:00

Madonna Barbie?

2008-04-17T23:29:00.002-05:00

Madonna Barbie
Uploaded by rowenatrue

Madonna

2008-04-17T23:21:00.003-05:00

Why I love Madonna: savvy business woman, still amazing after all these years, Catholic gone Jew, oh and she did that single mom thing.

Then:

Now:

This woman is not out of time.

Dream Date

2008-04-16T00:49:00.002-05:00

It started with Barbie and Ken. Barbie was in something pink, shiny and ruffled. Who cared what Ken wore. He was merely a symbol, with rubber molded-hair, of my future love. I was the big-boobed, blond in my sweaty little fist. Ken was a stand-in for Barry Manilow, Gene Wilder, Steve Martin, Mork from Ork, George Hamilton and Elvis – the playtime dream dates of my childhood.

I was not lucky enough to have a Barbie Dream House or Corvette. Instead, I had my full-size, four-poster brass bed and my imagination. I mentally divided the landscape of my bed into the Barbies’ house, the restaurant and the ball. Each Barbie waited her turn for a dream date with Ken. Each date followed the same formula: quick dinner, dancing, damsel in distress, sex – always in the missionary position.

Then I grew up, and the concept of a dream date faded away. It was lost in the less dressy and less exciting routine of bad dates. There was:
The ‘Hang Out At White Castles’ Date.
The ‘I Don’t Have A Car’ Date.
The ‘I Still Live At Home With My Parents’ Date.
The ‘I’m Unemployed’ Date.
The ‘I’m In Rehab’ Date.
The ‘Milk Makes Me Horny’ Date.
The 'Ladies First, So I Can Watch Your Butt’ Date.
The ‘Talk About My Ex All Night’ Date.
The ‘Every Word Out Of My Mouth Is A Lie’ Date.
The ‘Wingman’ Date.
The ‘Cliché’ Date.
The ‘Human Octopus’ Date.
The ‘Blind’ Date.
The ‘Oh, You Wanted To Actually Do Something’ Date.
The ‘How Did You Live Without Me?’ Date.
The ‘Jesus Loves You’ Date.
The ‘I’m Going To Look At You All Night The Way Homer Simpson Looks At A Donut’ Date.
The ‘I’m A Racist’ Date.
The ‘I’m A Homophobe’ Date.
The ‘Horny Catholic’ Date.
The ‘We Just Met. We Must Be Soul Mates’ Date.
The ‘I Lost My License’ Date.
The ‘Insulting Alcoholic’ Date.
The ‘Meet My Wife’ Date.
The ‘Olive Garden = Fancy’ Date.
The ‘I Don’t Like To Read’ Date.
The ‘Can You Drive? Can You Pay? Can I Get Laid?’ Date.
The ‘I’ve Never Seen Star Wars Or Indiana Jones’ Date.
The ‘I’ll Cry If You Don’t Kiss Me’ Date.
The ‘My Wallet Is Sealed Tighter Than The Virgin Mary’ Date.
The ‘I Kiss Like A Bunny-Rabbit’ Date.
The ‘I Think I’m A Stud, But I've Got The Moves Of A 14 Year-Old’ Date.
The ‘Pizza Delivery Driver’ Date.

These are in no particular order. But it might be interesting and difficult to try and rate them in order of pain. I had forgotten about the concept of a dream date in the clutter of these horrendous experiences. And then, I started going out with: ‘Attentive, Intelligent, Sexy, Interesting, Gentleman, Entertain Your Daughter, Make You Feel Important And Wanted, I'm A Mensch’ Date. Thankfully, dream dates can come true with or without the pink, shiny, ruffled wardrobe.

At Home

2008-04-14T19:01:00.004-05:00

I forgot how wonderful and admittedly boring it can be to stay at home. I have lapsed into long afternoon naps as I have to stay up late to get any writing done. Even now as I type I am audience to a magic trick involving a toy spider and a Play-Doh oven. Ah, here comes the Play-Doh fridge, now.

But don't worry, my day has been much more exciting than it sounds. While taking a shower, my 78 year-old grandma entered the room asking me if I could take a call with the phone stretched out towards the shower. Upon exiting the shower, I find a hand written message of a name I don't know and a 9 digit phone number. Next, I made a bowl of Dora soup for Bella. This resulted in being merely an exercise in noodle forensics. After she identified all the Dora character noodles she was done "eating."

Moving on to bigger projects, I cleaned out the hall closet, which resulted in 4 bags of trash! Followed by art time with paint. Oh, and then we played Angel World and Bella received a prank call from God. That God he's such a kidder.

Wiki Who?

2008-04-09T09:30:00.001-05:00

Moveover wikipedia and make room for Ms. Dewey.
http://www.msdewey.com/

This One is for the Boys

2008-04-02T00:36:00.002-05:00

Gentlemen,

If you've ever been "hot for teacher," then I think you'll like to take a look at this
http://www.hotforwords.com/

Plus, you get to learn something while you are there.

Ladies,
We always knew smart was sexy.

Memory Theory

2008-04-01T23:52:00.001-05:00

My life is crowded with theoretical moments.
Memories that never really happened,
romances unapplied, and dramas uncast.

A sub-text of heavy-breathing threatens,
wets my neural pathways -
seeping between the wrinkles.

Laden with realities
that bear the weight of fantasies fulfilled,
I crumple under the ecstasies.
I dream of the never-lived moments of my history.

Oranges and Gefilte Fish

2008-04-01T23:32:00.002-05:00

I.

My first experience with love,
a real, tangible and requited
love began with oranges.

The day I first visited with you,
it was your forgotten birthday.
I was a friend of your brother.

You, alone, were home.
You were 17.
You invited me to wait.

You had been reading;
so naturally, we took up about books and poetry.
Your brother did not read.
He paid no attention to books or me,
only passing enough time to fuck me on a bad occasion.

I proudly claimed, “I write poetry.”
I was 18.
You challenged me to write a poem with orange in it.
A week later, I gave you “Orange.”
A poem of violence, predators and Kubrick.
You and I had begun our love affair.
It was ripe with the sweet acid of oranges.

II.

Now, after 15 years, packaged with
two engagements, one marriage, a child, one divorce, and a few minor incidents
I waltz through a cluttered labyrinth of rooms with you, my lover.

You who sings in a sun-filtered, smoke filled room of glass.
You who burned a gift of “tea and oranges.”
You, collector of pots and pans, of dwindling aged bottles of scotch, of towers built from books.

I browse.
I investigate.
The slow-burn of oranges is fragrant in this place,
and in this space there is something I want to eat.

Empty, a can of gefilte fish, beckons forth.
Its oily insides tempt me.
I wonder what gefilte fish tastes like.
Does it taste like love?

Gnomes? Elves? Fairies?

2008-04-01T16:17:00.001-05:00

My daughter has a blankie that we are slowly weaning her from. We have reduced its role to bedtime and trauma. But this faded rainbow blankie, she is not the first.

The first blankie was Bella’s swaddling blanket. It was a light pink, and in sections a nasty nicotine-stained wet brown from her chewing and teething on it. I swear we were not letting her smoke.

Alas, between the toxic spit and bleach it became a choking-hazard rag. I had to switch it out with the safe, clean rainbow blanket. I told her the fairies took the pink blankie away to fix it. From time to time she asks me when the fairies are going to bring it back.

Obviously, I am that blankie fairy and I will return it to her when she goes off to college. But I’m beginning to wonder if such fairies do exist. Because I can’t figure what has happened to my butter knives. I am down to about 5 butter knives. This is absurd as I have two sets of silverware currently employed in my kitchen. In fact, I have so many spoons they are overflowing. The forks are stacked high in the drawer, even when the dishwasher is full. But the butter knives are MIA.

Maybe there are butter knife fairies? Maybe they need them to knit blankies back together? Perhaps gnomes have come along and turned some of those butter knives into forks and spoons, this would explain the overflow. It is quite perplexing, because it is just Bella and I in the house and we don’t cook. If we don’t use them, then how did they get lost? Did the dishwasher eat them like the wash machine eats our socks?

With Enough

2008-04-01T12:37:00.002-05:00

With enough narcotics,
I can lose the myopic view I hold on the world,
and embrace it with diplomatic arms.
Likewise, with enough narcotics
a lackadaisical attitude consumes
my landscapes fraught with alabaster towers.
With enough narcotics,
the deconstruction of ignorance
replaces amiable avenues with copacetic climbs.

Dickipedia - now that's Ricockulous

2008-03-26T22:53:00.002-05:00

You've got to see this thing. It may not be better than wikipedia, but it is funnier. It's Dickipedia. That's right there is a one stop site to find out about famous dicks as in jerks. Of course, if you go poking around on the site it might cover the tool itself. The flavor of the week? Flavor Flav. Check it out.
http://dickipedia.org/dick.php?title=Flavor_Flav

A Little Secret

2008-03-26T21:31:00.002-05:00

Here's a little secret. Alice has always held a desperate crush for Peter Pan. She may have even heard him crow outside her window a time or two.

The Looking Glass

2008-03-26T12:00:00.003-05:00

Could there be another Alice? Another single mom with a love for literature? Another woman falling down the rabbit hole? The answer is, yes! How matrix-like that two rabbit holes would become connected via the confusion of blogger. But I have made a new friend in the Aussie Alice, and I've added her to my list of links. What new surprises await? Any Mad Hatters out there?

Shrinking Alice

2008-03-23T22:21:00.002-05:00

Alice stretched out
on the leather buttoned couch.
It seemed like a cliche thing to do,
but it was the only way to get through.

Her tale was long and woesome,
tedious, crowded, unfocused and lonesome.
When Alice began she was long and taunt.
Her voice was hollow and her face gaunt.

But as characters and places came and went,
her frame shrunk, collapsed and bent.
Into a knot, she'd tie and then unfold
as on and on her story she told.

And it was with much apprehension
the violence and nonsense that she mentioned.
Then at the end of her therapy session,
she felt regret over her confession.

Alice sojourned out still hopeless and lost.
She paid the climbing co-pay cost.
Clutching Dr. White's prescription,
Alice was steeped in malcontent conviction.

First Monday As a Born Again Stay at Home Mom

2008-03-17T13:01:00.005-05:00

I just peeled a heart shaped sticker from my face. I'd forgotten she put it there. It would explain the smirk from the kid at Radio Shack. After the incident with the strategically placed Dierbergs stickers doubling as pastes on my winter coat, a heart on my face is no biggie.

However, there seems to still be room for embarrassment. It starts with there being one cat too many in our lives. I don't embarrass easily. In fact, until oh so recently I made a living writing about cat poop. We own two living, breathing cats Kafka and Cayce. Bella also has a multitude of stuffed cat toys, bobble headed kitties, clothes with kitties; it is kitty overload.

Bella has not been one for originality when it came to naming her toys. Every white doll she owns, save for the ones received most recently, have been named Katie. All the teddy bears are Teddy, except the blue one named Beary(Manillow). There are several kittens named kitty. But recently she's attempted to branch out in her naming of these stuffed animals. And now there is Meow-Meow, Little Miss Cutie, and Pussy.

Unfortunately, Pussy is the current favorite and must go everywhere we go. And she calls it by name, she coos over Pussy, she reprimands Pussy, and declares "I just love Pussy! Don't you?"
I've casually suggested other names, even pussycat. But she is adamant about Pussy. My current stance is to ignore it. But I can sense we are one embarrassing incident away from her getting a new toy, just to distract her from Pussy.

Swallow Me

2008-03-11T23:21:00.002-05:00

Swallow me, Swallow me, Swallow me
I glare at the damn pill in my hand.
"I'll wash away pain and pleasure"
Swallow me, it commands.

Swallow me, Swallow me, Swallow me
I choke the prick in my hand
"I'll fill, I'll gag, I'll not think of you"
Swallow me, it commands.

Swallow me, Swallow me, Swallow me
I surrender to the grip of your hand
"I'll yield, I'll fall, I'll love you"
Swallow me, I command.

dalliance

2008-03-11T23:13:00.002-05:00

a caged flight of fancy
my breath in a kiss is caught
my heart flutters out of reality
I'm lost on swells of scotch

the air is thick with romance
sex christened with silent tears
you echo an idyllic existence
romance collected through the years

seduced by your chocolates
with your Cohen and Voltaire
tempered heart under the coverlet
I succumb under the weight of your stare

Taste

2008-03-11T23:12:00.002-05:00

My mouth is full with the taste of us.
My memories a delectable fare.
Yet, I hunger for a deeper cut,
a feast that's raw and a soul that's bare.

The Truth About Lies

2008-03-11T23:10:00.002-05:00

Don't look upon the truth, when lies are so much prettier.
Step from the sill and shut the sash.
Hear not her siren song.
She is but a lusty whore,
free to all who come along.
Instead, seek out the lies
they are beautiful and many.
Generous, limber fillies; fantasy fulfilling.

Angry Child

2008-03-11T23:05:00.003-05:00

I hide behind the dress code of the middle class
with a cracked smile made of Windex'd glass.
Inside, I'm a sacrifice of chaos,
a fractured symphony,
an angry child with a punctured reality.

You can not empathize with my duality,
my horizons you can not achieve.
Isolated; exiled I retreat to my dreams.

What Counts

2008-03-10T22:31:00.002-05:00

I have noticed over the years that when it comes to sex there are many definitions as to what counts, and these definitions vary by generation and predicament from what I can tell. I shall expound, and the not-so-innocent shall remain nameless.

I’ve had friends that engaged in anal sex in order to preserve their virginity. Personally, I don’t understand this thinking at all. I also had friends that took a somewhat different approach and engaged only in oral sex as a way of preserving their virginity. It seems that as long as it wasn’t vaginal it wasn’t sex. Are they suggesting that their cheap form of birth control maintains virginity? If it is not obvious, all of these people are heterosexuals. My homosexual friends found these definitions of sex offense. I don’t think I need to explain why. I wondered with the logic employed here if that meant one can remain a virgin with any form of birth control? Does one only lose virginity after giving birth? Are these the lessons these same people would teach their children? I think not.

I became quite intrigued by these methods of madness that American girls and women went through to protect the fragile existence of their reputations. Trying to understand, I started taking a poll. And oddly, nearly every American girl I asked confided in me that she had a number, a secret number. This number was her personal limit of how many men she felt it acceptable to sleep with before she married. Stranger still nearly everyone said that number was 5. And only those who had exceeded 5 stated 10. Apparently we were working in increments. But where did these numbers come from and why did they weigh so heavily on our minds? It was an insane preoccupation for women in their teens and twenties, and it was why they began the artful parsing of the definition of sex, by which Bill Clinton would be proud.

These crazy definitions and secret numbers were leading to neurotic behavior. One friend was in a panic to get married as she hit her number 10. I myself swore off sex after ending an engagement with my fiancé. What if I don’t marry for another 10 years? I’d hate to think how many men one could sleep with in 10 years. Fortunately for me, not all of my friends were Midwestern American girls. Sara, from Belgium, thought my declamation ludicrous. You wouldn’t buy a car without a test drive. You should not get married without one either. She was married, she never had a secret number, and she was right.

Now, quickly reaching my mid-thirties and divorced, I don’t give a crap what secret numbers or definitions our sexually repressed and yet exploitive society holds. It’s not the number. It’s not the act. It’s the quality that counts. Great sex and a great love are the things I’m counting on finding these days.

I'm Back

2008-03-10T22:25:00.002-05:00

Sound the trumpets! I've returned to the world of Blog. I've been a bit busy, and I've been out to bore my lurkers - particularly the uninvited and ill-advised invited. I promise to try to return to my prolific ways.
Thanks,
Alice

Stupid? Funny? Art?

2008-02-27T11:20:00.002-06:00

Art in St. Louis is just a slap in the face.
Watch the video below.
Learn more at http://www.contemporarystl.org/whiteflagprojects_pgs.php
And watch for my friend Sarah at about 1:46 in the frame. Big Brown-eyed girl.