It is early morning and the silence around us was deafening though the sudden downpouring of large, unexpected raindrops clanking against the coffeepot has roused me from my sleep. The air is brisk and easy to breathe but so cold I shudder and the cold, damp, hardness of the ground beneath us has made my body stiff with regret. “So this is camping,” I tell myself. But then I notice the feel of your warm body up against mine, cradling me, your arm over my waist and cupping my breast as you sleep steadily on. Though my body aches I don’t want to move, I don’t want to disturb you. I love hearing you breathing there beside me, and you are my only source of comfort, of warmth, and I suddenly feel happy through and through. A smile spreads across my face.
The drumming of the rain beats on, striking harder, as though a band were playing just outside of view. You snuggle deeper into me, your mouth and nose snuggling into the nape of my neck, I can feel the warm pulse of your breath against my skin. I reach back and run my palm over the back of your head, enjoying the feel of your soft hair against my hand. I am very sleepy but smile again as I detect the soft brush of your lips against my neck. A gentle sleepy kiss signalling that you too have awakened and are happy to be beside me in our little yellow tent on this cold and wet night.
I take the chance, and turn my head in your direction, hoping my mouth will find yours in the blackness that surrounds us. The chilly air drifts into our sleeping bag as we shuffle our bodies into a new position. My body cannot help it, I shudder again. You gently reach up, placing your hand behind my head, guiding me toward you and we kiss, slowly, softly, quietly. We are side by side, facing each other now and your warm, loving kisses continue. My smile widens, both the one on my face and the one in my heart, my soul. I remind myself, “Oh, how I love this man!” My heart is beating faster, and the chill of the night air is quickly forgotten.
We are both becoming more alert as the gentle kissing breaks way into passionate, deep desire and a need to become one. The ever-constant beating of the rain begins to sound like music as we touch, caress, and explore each other, preparing our bodies for joining. In the midst of our excitement it has become so hot within the tent that you reach down and unzip our sleeping bag, laying it open like a blanket at a picnic. Sitting there in the center of this tiny tent the bulk of your body takes up most of the space within. You look so fit, so masculine. I climb up onto your lap. At first your hands holding the sides of my face as you kiss me and tell me that you love me, but then, slowly, they slide down the sides of me, and find there way beneath me; my buttocks cupped perfectly in the palms of your hands as you help me to glide smoothly up and down your magnificent shaft. As we make love the birds begin to chirp and the sun begins to rise to the east; your face slowly appears out of the shadows of darkness as the yellow of the tent canvas begins to make itself seen. And then, without warning, the rain stops suddenly and all that can be heard is the birds and the sound of two lovers reaching orgasm in unison.
Your hands come up to my back and I lean into them, gaze deeply into your eyes, a satisfied and happy grin on my face and as I look at you, your sparkling eyes, and cheery dimples are grinning proudly back at me.
I Image Googled “smart” and this sort of thing came up:
I was expecting this. Because that first one? Looks like some kid’s toy car. I’d feel silly as hell riding around in one, provided I’d even fit in there. Maybe they’re as roomy as the Fiat or the the Mini though. I drove a Fiat once and had a helluva good time doing it too.
That 6 wheel atrocity? (F-UGLY…and stupid looking IMHO…go buy yourself a freakin’ truck and have done).
Zoom zoom. And it got GREAT gas mileage. If the price tag weren’t so steep, I’d even own one now. Would drive it around when Baby (my PT Cruiser) needs a rest…
But this post isn’t about CARS…it’s about INTELLIGENCE.
I had a relative tell me recently something that absolutely astounded me. I probably stood there, looking stupid, with my mouth open and such. Because I had no damn idea.
They said that they grew up thinking secretly that they were retarded (okay it’s not a politically correct word, but for the generation of folks involved and since it was a PRIVATE conversation…I’m going to tell the P.C. police to bug off ). They didn’t do near as well in school as other family members and, although they were NOT stupid or retarded; and are in fact, as an adult, very well read and hold a complicated technical job – they always thought they were somehow dumb because they didn’t hold up the academic shining light.
Now I know this relative very very well. It’s a sibling actually. I’m one of the ‘shining lights’ of academia that this person felt diminished by. I am also a social moron (again with the incorrect P.C. ness…oh phooey to P.C. I’m declaring my blog a NON-P.C. zone today) and have been since middle school. I am awkward and ‘shy’ (hahahahah) and I don’t like people and I’m not good at pretending I do. I say the wrong thing and I do the wrong thing socially more often than I get it right and sometimes that bugs me, but not very often. Mostly I just don’t care.
Well NOW. But in middle and high school? My ‘retarded’ sibling was a social shining light. Popular and got on well with EVERYBODY. Had loads of friends and was always being asked to go do things with the popular kids and I really kind of hated my sibling sometimes for their success in the social arena.
It was startling therefore to realize they sort of hated me because I was ‘smart.’ Um.
Well you just never know, do you?
One man’s junk is another’s treasure and deep and profound stuff like that…
Odd what comes up in conversations at a funeral, ain’t it?
And this whole conversation and subsequent stewing about it a little bit (read obsessing over) led to reinforcement of my closely held belief that nothing fits in a pigeon hole but a pigeon, and sometimes the fat ones have to sleep in the rain.
The peacefulness of nature calls out.
Its voice is soft, gentle.
Your ears can sense the wind.
As it calls to you from the past.
Where it comes from matters.
Where it goes not as much.
Wrapped in its embrace.
Changes in weather.
Smells of blooms,
Sounds of activity.
The restlessness is a human trait.
Nature knows not a rush.
The call of a bird echoes.
The response is graciously slow.
The swaying of branches dance.
Light bends and twists before the land.
The landscape is a time machine.
It stops time in place!
It holds all plans hostage.
It reminds us where we stand.
If we take the time to listen.
Today, I will take the time.
My soul will relax from stress.
Nature knows not what that is.
Its quiet song calls out to us.
Open your window to the soul.
Nature is calling, put down the phone.
Hello all. A special post to guest post here. I’m Mark from Coloring Outside the Lines. I try to keep things short whether flash fiction, poetry, challenges, or photography. The flash fiction may include horror and crime. I’m very grateful for the chance to guest post!
So I have been back in Washington for just under a month now and I am not doing well at all. I am physically and emotionally exhausted all of the time. I have zero interest in blogging and make zero effort at seeing those people that I “missed so much” when I was in California. I have done very little school work and my new job hasn’t begun yet.
I found out I will have orientation next week, on Tuesday, for the new job and how I feel today is, “Geez, can I even hold a job? I’m so lost. Whatever, guess we’ll find out.”
So, yeah, that’s why I haven’t been around. I’m in the doldrums and wishing I could just go back to sleep. Second-guessing the smartness of coming back here (or lack of smarts). Simply put, I am not happy.
I wish that it didn’t cost an unreasonable amount to live there. I wish I could have stayed. But working 40+ hours a week and only being able to afford a tiny room in someone’s house didn’t make sense. Not when I was on a course toward putting my life together and making something of myself. And I couldn’t stay where I was, that was tearing me apart mentally.
Now I am just totally off course and without direction. I don’t feel the me inside of me any longer. Just emptiness. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that I don’t have Ms. Passive-Aggressive wounding my pride every day. But now I just feel like, well, I don’t feel like anything. I don’t feel human. I don’t feel pain or happiness, just blah, nothing-blah.
I guess I need meds. But I have zero energy to jump through a zillion hoops to get them.
Forest is finally feeling his fine, fit, happy, loving self again. He didn’t eat for 11 days and now he is kinda being spoiled in the food department. We just can’t help it, he’s here and we want to be very sure he knows we’re happy he fought the good fight and is back in good form! He’s on top of things, not like me. I’m still unpacking from my move. Only just today sat down and did some “homework.” So now it’s your turn to do a little homework.
You’ve got just barely 24 hours before submissions for the poetry contest closes. Submission deadline is Sunday, April 24th, 2016 at 23:55 PST. Submit now!
Voting opens at 00:05 PST on Monday, April 25th and ends on Saturday, April 30th at 23:55 PST.*
MEMEE’S POETRY PARTY RULES OF CONDUCT:
1. No naughty thumbnail pictures. (This will disqualify you.)
2. Submit the URL address to your relevant original poem.
3. Please try to visit at least two party guests, leave them a nice compliment or begin a friendly discussion with them. It’s a party: Mingle, people, mingle!
4. This party’s unique hashtag is #pets, use it. Link back to me and, of course, if you tweet me, I’ll tweet you… tweet, tweet! (Even if you don’t have a twitter account please use the hashtag as a blog tag.)
5. Let your followers know that you’re partying at Memee’s Musings and they’re invited to drop in and join the party! Just give them this direct link:http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=625302 so they can cast their vote!
Photography by: 紫流
Distributed through: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/
Crop, graphics and text by B.L. Memee
I wrote before of my friends, we’ll call them Joe and Barb. They were married in May of 2000. He was 30. She was 24. I don’t have to do the math for you. It’s been a long marriage and moderately successful. Long story short, she became very controlling of him, dictatorially so. She grew cold within first five years of marriage and turned their life into a business arrangement. And she cut him off from friends and outside influences. Then she became verbally abusive. He finally got fed up and manned-up and told her to get into counselling or he was leaving. If he were a woman we would all be cheering him on for finally taking control of his life, and being proactive for his own happiness. And it is for that reason I must say I am proud of him. A broken marriage that is not fixable, cripples a person. And he is splintered everywhere.
Tonight was hard for me. I cried for him. And I am so very furious with her. Today she went too far and passed the brink of repairing the relationship.
Let me back up. I saw them just a bit over a week ago, 9 days ago, I believe. You see I recently moved myself back to Washington, but needed Joe’s help tightening the belts on my car so I could make it safely and without loud squealing noises following me everywhere. Also, we needed to have our goodbyes. I had a very nice time visiting with her while he repaired my car and added fluids. She had her first glass of wine (I didn’t imbibe that night.) She tried to talk to me about their problems, but I told her that it made me uncomfortable and that I didn’t want to be giving advice. I just wanted them both to be happy (in whatever life had in store). That I was his friend and it just didn’t feel right to me having her try to confide in me. She respected my speaking up and telling her so. She told me of the things she was doing to improve herself. And it sounded like she was finally getting it. It sounded like her counselling was actually making a difference and she was willing to accept and take responsibility for her controlling and verbally abusive behavior.
She was probably on her second glass of wine when dinner was served. I don’t know; I wasn’t counting. They have red wine every night. Because I wasn’t drinking I observed them in a way I hadn’t before. Right there at the dinner table things started going south. I’m not sure how or why but the mood changed from fun to uncomfortable to painful. At one point I suggested I go. They both said no, I should stay. And so I stayed. And I watched as their behavior toward one another changed. It was hard. She tries to keep up with him glass for glass. But she doesn’t metabolise the wine like he does. She would say things to him that weren’t necessarily meant to be hurtful, but would come across that way. I would try and keep things from going that way, saying, “I think what she is trying to say is…” I just wanted it to stop escalating. But I couldn’t stop her. I told her that he heard her. That he understands what she is trying to say. But by that point she was too drunk to keep herself in check. And as her words become more critical, more biting, and more hurtful I became increasing uncomfortable. I felt helpless to the trainwreck I could see coming. He never raised his voice or lost his calm. He didn’t snap back at her or return cruel jabs. He squirmed in his seat with discomfort as he tried to talk her down, reason with her. Eventually, he excused himself. He gave me a hug goodbye, and I could feel him trembling in my arms as he whispered to me, “That was bad.” All I could do was say, “I know. I’m sorry.” I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment. He went to shower and secure himself in the guest room. She walked me to the car.
At the car she totally lost it emotionally. Weeping and crying and feeling sorry for herself beyond what was necessary. Even throughout her behavior at the table he remained calm and collected, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to speak to her rationally. Asking her to stop. Asking her to respect his experience and expertise. He played the defender to her aggressor. And she felt sorry for herself? I reminded her again, at the car, that I didn’t want to be put in the middle. Again, she said she respected that and appreciated my honesty about that. She understands that 31 years of friendship with him trumps my one year of friendship with her. She knows I don’t want to choose. She knows I want to remain friends no matter what happens with this marriage. Despite that she couldn’t quit crying and I couldn’t just stand there and let her cry. So I gave in to my compassion and gave her the best advice I could. I spent probably 45 minutes standing out in the cold with her.
I told her that she needed to not drink as much as he does, and why. I told her that he needs her to be soft and gentle, a woman. That she needs to allow him to be a man. She needs to trust in him to know how best to do things that are in his expertise and wheelhouse. She needs to not police him. (Yes, she’s in law enforcement and he feels like a prisoner.) She says, “But I have to protect him.” She doesn’t understand that he is a 46-year-old, 6’2″ intelligent man with a black belt in jiu jitsu (could be some other martial art, I don’t recall. Point is, he’s a master). She needs to understand that her behavior and words strike at his manhood. She is being disrespectful to a man who is kind and helpful and tries to please her despite all the garbage she throws his way. But apparently she didn’t take my words to heart or perhaps she was too wasted to remember them because today she crossed the line.
Mind you, the evidence is all circumstantial but with things I know about her, I’d say she is totally capable of being the bitch that would do this. And I know her accomplice, and she is just plain evil.
1. 11:00 a.m. Barb sends Joe a text while he’s at work. “What will you do if you lose your job?” He doesn’t respond. She texts again ten minutes later, “You won’t be able to depend on me, once you leave, will you?”
2. 1:00 p.m. Joe gets a call to meet with his boss. He is fired on the spot. The reason given, “They received accusations against him by a woman.” No name given. No further information provided.
3. 3:00 p.m. Barb’s best friend posts a meme on a private Facebook group, that I happen to be a member of, tagging only Barb. I see it. Find it suspicious and curious. But then forget about it because I don’t know what has happened.
The meme was of Morticia Adams with a glass of celebratory blood and it reads, “That moment when you witness karma in its full, glorious splendor.”
He comes home and she goes out to dinner with another girlfriend. He is devastated that she’d be so cruel. To ruin this job which (yes, gave him the confidence and financial means to leave her) and sully his reputation in the process. He feels lost and confused, sick to his stomach with agony. He doesn’t understand her need to control him or the idea of a human being as a possession. He is a good man. She was blessed to have such a man. Me, I cried. I cried as he told me all about his day. And then, when we were done talking, I cried some more. I felt his pain.
As I said, I have the misfortune of knowing this new “best friend” and she is pure evil. She’s known Barb for less time than I have known her and I warned him, as did others, that she would be a bad influence on her. I think she was the woman who made the accusation. I think it was a plan dreamt up over cocktails and Barb may have even agreed to it thinking it was a joke. Unfortunately, she did “like” the meme, so maybe she knew it all along. The coincidence and timing of everything is just way too suspicious.
I begged Joe to go to a hotel or a friend’s house for tonight at least. I fear for both of their safety. When she was hysterical by my car the idea got stuck in my head that she could, if drunk and pushed beyond hope, kill him and then herself, Brynn Hartman style. When we had finished up our conversation he was going to shower and meditate and if he couldn’t reground himself he’d leave for the night. I think perhaps he thinks I am more worried about what he might do to her. But really, it’s either of them. He’s not violent. He is a very gentle person. But she is controlling and when drunk, she cannot control her behavior. I don’t trust her now. Not at all. Not after today.
By the time this posts, it will be tomorrow. He has promised to check in with me. I will likely sleep poorly tonight. My prayers are that God is in that house tonight. And that he will hear if God tells him to go. That she will hear if He whispers for her to stop. That tonight Barb will leave Joe alone and give him space, and that things do not escalate further.
(Update: both are still living and breathing and no one is in jail.) Whew! My domestic violence history takes me there as an option, always. Feeling grateful, Lord, for your watching over them at this time of crisis.
Pets come in all shapes and sizes and personalities. Some of us have a favorite while others define their homes as a zoo. All I know is that the make life so much richer. I cannot imagine life without a pet by my side. Families who don’t have pets are confusing to me. I just don’t understand why people would want to deprive their children of the wonderful unconditional love and friendship that a pet can give, not to mention all we learn from them by being witness to their lives.
And so this month, in honor of my best friend, Forest, who has been sick this past week with his first episode of Canine Vestibular Disease, I am asking that you focus your poetry this month on your pets and that special relationship you share with them.
IMPORTANT DATES:
Submission deadline is Sunday, April 24th, 2016 at 23:55 PST. Submit now!
Voting opens at 00:05 PST on Monday, April 25th and ends on Saturday, April 30th at 23:55 PST.*
MEMEE’S POETRY PARTY RULES OF CONDUCT:
1. No naughty thumbnail pictures. (This will disqualify you.)
2. Submit the URL address to your relevant original poem.
3. Please try to visit at least two party guests, leave them a nice compliment or begin a friendly discussion with them. It’s a party: Mingle, people, mingle!
4. This party’s unique hashtag is #pets, use it. Link back to me and, of course, if you tweet me, I’ll tweet you… tweet, tweet! (Even if you don’t have a twitter account please use the hashtag as a blog tag.)
Spreading the word about your linking up is also the perfect excuse to show off your participation badge! Because I do not vote it is important that you participate in promoting the event. The more word of mouth the more activity and the greater the traffic impact on everyone’s website. Also, remember, once we start hitting 100 bloggers linking up then tangible, in-your-hand prizes will be awarded to the winners along with their trophy and bragging rights. So challenge your fellow poets to party with us and solicit your followers to read all of the poems and vote their favorite (while the voting window is open).
