Hard to Miss

Barbie wants all of you Dolls and Ken's to repeat this and remember it: You can't miss someone who doesn't miss you back. You miss the memory of what you perceive them to be until it changes & because you can't control it that hurts you. 

No matter how much this doll misses her favorite guys & dolls she realizes... You must distance yourself when someone is hurting you by using you to hurt someone else. Even if it's innocent or  unintentional. No matter how much I care this doll will get out of being hurt, used and manipulated to harm the guys or gals I know. And my friends should already know I won't be used to hurt other people.

I tried to pacify this topic nicely repeatedly by personalizing: Decluttering, clinging to love, disposable man, etc. Look, I like my freedom & miss having a personal life. Ladies & Fellows, your insecure issues impede this. And it's not cool to leave people dealing with your BS and hide. It should've been put a stop to already instead of encroaching further into this dolls life. Honestly I never should've been put in this position and I'm just trying to avoid being awful while avoiding guys/girls talking "intimately" about people I know. I don't tolerate that. I feel sad for the people involved because it's no one's business. 

No judgment. This doll is simply tired of being nice & agreeable in situations that end up awkward later.

Ladies & Fellows, this is definitely overstepping here for us all. No one is being a dick or a bitch or a bad person. Just Ask yourself why you really want my friendship. In order to overshare? Why? I have no sway on anyone's dating status but my own. I won't be used by anyone for vengeance to get even with another. I'm so sorry you're hurting. Breakups & love situations are hard for me too! 

Here's a story about being wronged... 

Have you ever been used by people?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

She Done Him Wrong

(6-5-11)

“She Done Him Wrong…”

“Really?”

“She did.”

“Such a nice young man. It’s a shame.”

“What’s she done?”

“She did the worst thing,”

“What was that?”

“I take it you don’t know the story?”

“No. Do you?” 

“I’m not one to gossip but let me tell you what happened… that poor child had those stars in his eyes. You know the ones. The love struck kind. All very silly for this little girl around the bend. Pretty child she was. I can’t imagine another brighter than she was. They were inseparable for a while. It seemed to be a bit of destiny involved. People around these parts sure enough thought it was a fine match. Until…”

“Until? What happened?”

“Ramona, let me catch my breath. Then I’ll tell you.”

“Alright. When you’re ready.”

“Thank you. I’m feeling a little better. It wasn’t cause that fellow had no money. If you want to believe she did it cause of the money, you’d be wrong. Was it because of his looks? On the tongue of most gossip’s they’ll say that was the reason. But I’ll tell you different. That child. She did him wrong because she knew that she could. There wasn’t any reason involved except pure malice. Now the reason she did it, ain’t half as important as what she did.”

“What’d she do?”

“Ramona! Don’t rush me!. Some folks want to taste what’s out there before settling down. That’s right as they see fit. But this one, she didn’t much care for the flavor of one. She needed to taste much more. The very idea of sharing a woman with another man, let alone every man in town was too much for that fellow to find out.  She sure done him wrong… and he’ll never be the same for it.”

Best

I think when you are friends with someone or in love with someone you want the best for them. Whether they are lovers, almost lovers, guys friends or gal friends you know and you hope they want the best for you. Because you also want what's best for yourself. 

For the most part you do your best not to interfere in your friends/people you love/care for personal business unless they share it with you. Or until it affects your personal business. For me personally I will do everything to resist being dragged inbetween an intimate moment a squabble a breakup or differences. Especially when it creates tension & residual negative energy in my life. No matter how much I love or adore the person I cannot allow it. I respect myself. I will not to watch anyone be disrespected.

While I'm grateful and humbled to have such amazing, beautiful and talented people to cross my path and end up in my life as friends or people I love/care for, I don't appreciate problems. I appreciate your presence but if you appreciate me you will please refrain from allowing me to be in the middle of she said/he said issues because as you can see I will remove myself from the situation every time. Intimacy issues shouldn't be public fodder. You don't need to follow me around to find out this... And I really shouldn't have to defend myself again but I will: I have dated my guy friends in the past... But I'm not dating any one of them now. Rumors are lovely but bad for your complexion. Hush. Ladies, if you're insecure about where you stand with a guy... Talk to him. Please. Don't start to bug the people he knows in this manner. It reflects upon you, not him.

To my other friends who are perceiving my actions directed solely toward them... I've stepped back from everyone & removed myself as an inbetween with several people. I apologize if you're upset. This is my response until I can clarify situations and set boundaries with all the people I respect, love & adore. But you don't allow others to disrespect someone you value or ever valued as a lover, almost lover, acquaintance, family member, friend or colleague. Because some of you have clearly disrespected the boundaries of others, I need to step back, resolve my feelings and get their "ok" in light of present circumstances.

Please don't take it personally to you or anyone you know... If it isn't. Please take it very seriously if it is you and your personal business. I'm very uncomfortable with being dragged into seeing/reading/hearing any intimate info meant for two people, not an audience. Love yourself & each other, lovers.

Here's a story about not interfering when you hear something that's not your business...

Do you drag people into your affairs or meddle in people's affairs?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Rattlin’ Bones

(3-13-2011)

“Rattlin’ Bones,” Tommy hollers with a nod of his head.  “Can you hear ‘em?”

A shortcut through the cemetery after a night of drinking was the quickest way to get home without the good ol blue boys picking you up. Not to mention the graveyard was most often the quietest way to find yourself home in a pinch. Dead men ain’t got much to say even when there’s company in their backyard. Unlike your nosy neighbor they don’t much give a damn what you’re up to as long as it don’t interfere with their business. Cause a dead man, sure enough always has a bit of unfinished business. Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t at all as pressing as the business of living but sure enough it matters quite a bit to that dead bastard. Almost so much he might interfere with the business of your living.

Understand that a dead man hardly wants your life. He’s already had one of those. And since he’s been dead there ain’t a damn bit of good your life will do him. Not in his current condition. But he certainly won’t think twice about following you home if you disturb his peace. And unless you like waking up to a pair bones in your bed I suggest you leave that dead man alone. His sense of humor is a bit different than yours or mine.

What exactly will he do? That dead man will set up shop in your house, piss off your old lady and make a fine mess.

Don't believe me? Just ask my pal Bobby. He couldn’t help himself one night out in the graves. Dancing and whooping through the bones’ business. The following week his old lady left him. She left on account of their house being haunted and blamed him for losing her wedding ring in a bet. Bobby don’t gamble and the house wasn’t much haunted after his old lady left. Where's the lesson in that? Don’t cross a dead man. While he can’t change his fate, but damned if he don’t affect yours.

Tonight wasn’t any different from any other. Same old shortcut since we were kids. Same old Tommy had himself too many and extended himself to walking good ol’ Frankie home. You might say we were loud enough to wake the dead as we made our way across the better part of the 1800s. Somewhere near the cusp of 1882 there wasn’t anything like the sound of it.

“Rattlin’ Bones” The bones were moving about and hear them you could. Much like the coyotes cry you can sure as hell hear the bones when they rattle. There isn’t another sound much like it. I know what Tommy means by it, but there’s Frankie that ain’t been around much so he has a look of wonder about him.

“Oh my child do you know about the bones?” Not much did I ever really know when my grandmother used to ask me that question but I’m thinking it the same tonight. For what can a man know about the dead? The bones ain’t exactly like you or me. They spend their time much more leisurely than the living. Their business is theirs. Our business is ours. But unlike the living like to believe some of their business is a lot more like ours.

For instance, Love. Passion. A dead man remembers what that was like in his bones. That don’t ever truly change. And on a night much like this you can hear them dead lovers in their graves rolling like they never lost a beat.

What do the dead do in the dark? Can’t tell you personally but good ol’ Frankie found out for himself about three steps into the 1920s. With a loose piece of gravel and shift of his foot Frankie landed himself amid a dead lover’s coupling. With a scream and the sound of wallop the noisy bones fall to a dead still all around us. I’m not sure what Frankie saw but he was much paler when we reached the 1930s.

Around 1942 Frankie looks nervously at Tommy who can’t quite wipe the grin off his face. Like they didn’t miss a beat the bones’ resume their noise much louder than usual but that don’t stop Tommy from saying it again with a laugh. “Rattlin’ Bones.”

Those Nice Black & Blue Bones

“Them is some nice bones... How'd you get them black & blue bones?” - Black & Blue Bones  

So I wrote a new skeleton story! I used to write them often. It's inspired by a saying... Ever hear the saying: Your bones show & tell the stories of where you've been & who you are on your journey. That's it!

Well, my bones can't tell you that I started posting stories online for my friends to read on their work breaks about 6 yrs back. (NOPE it's not 10 yrs!) Writing super short back then kept me busy in a good way. So what are friends for if not to inspire you? Often the things they might say paint a pretty mental picture and as an artist/writer/photographer, I will take from all of my experiences including people. I don't blame others for doing the same but I always return in kind. ;) 

Anyhoo, back to friends & the journey... a friend recalls that I used to write darkness & murder fiction and he was wondering: “Will you ever again? Write the darker pieces?” 

Well, I've been toying with the notion of darkness since finishing the D-Women but not thinking about individual pieces or murder. Actually been working on something else entirely... Hmm?

Here's a piece from those earlier posts that's on the tamer side of darkness. From my Bones series this is about gambling with skeletons.

Do you gamble or take risks? 

Are you inspired by the things people say? 

Do you want to read more from the Bones series?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Show Yer Bones

(5-13-2009)

“Show yer bones,” Tommy says as he calls. Playing cards in a cemetery provides a great deal of privacy not to mention an eerie ambiance. The skeletons provide us with excellent substitutes for chips. Finger and toe bones prove to be the best and quickest to clear away in a pinch. Tombstones supply a makeshift table. This was our weekly haunt and only way to keep the game private. See we didn’t gamble for money, booze, or even women. The rules of this game were quite different. Winner rarely took all and loser didn’t walk away empty handed either. One could call us grave robbers. But we didn’t steal from the dead. The dead had ample opportunity to win it back fair and square. Playing poker with a dead man was a different experience. See the dead have nothing to lose. The living, well that’s the catch, you have your life to gamble with among other things the dead may take in trade. So if you won, a grave might sound like a wasted investment. But to that dead bastard you’ve just confiscated his home and his bones lay out for anyone to claim. If you don’t know about stealing a dead man’s bones, let me explain... To take a man’s bones calls his soul from beyond and tethers his spirit to those disrupted artifacts. You can most certainly expect him to come calling one evening and take up in your home until you return his bones. Now to lose to a dead man, see that’s quite another thing. See not all the dead envy the living. It’s quite the occasion if a skeleton wants your life. They rarely ask for it. But you may have to give up your eyes, ears, or tongue. Sometimes even fingers or toes. Tommy lost his pinky one time and won it back in the next game. Let’s just say he had an interesting week without it. The dead are quite the comedians. Once I saw a man lose both legs in a poker game and had to be carried home. What do the dead want with our pieces? Nothing really. It amuses them I think. It’s quite a funny thing to look at a skeleton with a set of eyes to look back out at you. The tongue has no purpose. They don’t need it to talk, but to the lawyer who has just gambled it away it has an immeasurable value. See they don’t need these organs, but they do understand how very dear such things are to the living.

Tonight, same as the last 10 years, we’re out here playing in the cemetery. It’s witching hour. The town clock sounds three distinct times as we are coming down the wire. Unlike my other games, all those years, many, many times, I’m losing tonight. My heart is thumping, like it knows it will never beat again. Pulse racing like a engine. I’ve bet quite a bit on this game. This skeleton isn’t bluffing either. He will collect my debt without hesitation. “I shouldn’t have come tonight,” are my thoughts. I look over to my eager opponent who will relish knowing that he at long last triumphs and my winning streak, just like my life, has finally come to a close. What kind of man plays cards with the dead? The kind that has nothing left to lose. This game is different though. I came in, not looking to walk away. The love of my life walked out the door five hours ago and my heart won’t do me a damn bit of good anymore. My heart is up for ante on the table and the bones love that I’m playing dangerous tonight. Tommy looks nervous. But he calls anyway. “Show yer bones.” And the bets are out. Cards are down. Bones walks over, reaches into my chest and rips out my heart.

I'll Always Have Love For Ya: The Ex-Files

Goodbye September, I'll Always Have love for ya! 

Ah my loves, it has been a little while since Ms. M has stopped being busy and simply lived. I must say it does do wonders for the spirit and welcomes interesting things, (good, bad & sad), into your life. Which although my downtime was thanks to a terrible sore throat a few weeks back and a very old Car Collision that involves some legal matters, this fabulous doll is grateful & fortunate enough to stay closer to home than usual. Taking life in & redecorating of course! Which means de-cluttering! Do you know what de-cluttering is? It means you are clearing out the past to make way for the new. In Buddhism it's encouraged to let go and let life run its course. Much like a stream of water. Damming it only stops up things and builds pressure. Besides...

If you don't make way for the new, the change you need will never come. 

Which brings me to this: Exes. Through my efforts to de-clutter and discard things that no longer serve a purpose, I keep thinking about people and their Exes---> lovers, friends and etc. When people have relationships that no longer are supportive or healthy for them, they must let them go. These things clutter up your heart. You don't always have to unfriend an ex but you have to give them time. 

Some people gracefully let go and others hang on too tightly when it isn't cool. Following, bothering and keeping tabs on a former lover through friends/acquaintances or even the "next" person they date. You can be friends but friends don't do that. Honestly I've been the "next girlfriend" and I've dated the "next boyfriend" before after a uncomfortable or awkward separation and I'll share something with you... We didn't break up because our exes stalked us, stayed acquaintances with either of us and kept tabs on our social media. Give them the same regard you would want. Jealousness is not love and should not be encouraged... (which is why this doll is on good terms with her exes but distances herself from them til it's ok)

Relationships just begin or end sometimes when they are supposed to. True fact: if a girl or guy truly wants to be with or pursue someone, nothing an anyone can do will change that. If someone is motivated to pursue a girl/guy... Nothing will stop them. But know from my experience it's fun to watch someone act out... So don't. Love yourselves Dolls and Kens. You are all so amazing and awesome. :)

This doll really tries to insist that all of her favorite Kens deal with their past so it doesn't interfere with her life or other friends lives but she realizes you can't control your ex and has been trying not to hold it against any of them & get mad. Some women or men act out, unfortunately. Just remember as an ex you can control yourself... 

But I'll let you decide how it sounds when you bother your ex and his/her friends or the new person they date. Here's one about a guy that couldn't stop following his ex...

Do you keep tabs on your ex via their friends or their new paramour? Or do you de-clutter your heart and move on?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Some Distant Memory

(7-19-2010)

I don’t know if we could get lost in a city this size if we wanted to.

And I don’t know if I could survive without seeing you?

And every time I see your face I feel out of place. 

I’m out on the street. This address isn’t familiar. It’s new. She’s running late. How do I know? He’s waiting outside. Picking her up. Talking on the phone. The new me. The replacement.

I know it’s him by his watch. I passed them in the lobby of the W three weeks ago and there it was shiny, gold, Rolex, the kind of gaudy that isn’t anything like me. It was an unusual encounter to say the least. Walking by slow with my head turned by the sound of noise. She saw me first and grabbed his hand tighter. The left, with the watch. Tighter. Smile for my benefit. Wave of her blonde hair as she leans in a little closer for a kiss. A flash of gold touches her cheek and they hold for the moment as I keep walking. He didn’t know about me and she won’t tell him. And I can’t forget it. Gold. There it stands three feet below the stoop waiting for her to leave the building. 

I didn’t want to ever do this. But that day it wasn’t enough. I had to see her again. It’s been too long for me to miss her and it’s not long enough. Damn this. She’s running down the steps. She’s wearing a black dress beneath her coat. Her favorite dress, with the slit up to her mid thigh that accents the muscles in her leg when she wears the right shoes. She’s wearing the right shoes and kissing him. Apologizing and taking his arm in hers before they start walking. 

After thirteen blocks we are in a familiar place again. The city seems to be alive all around. I can’t move quickly enough. Knocking into people. Shoving forward through the crowd. Trying to reach her. I just need to see her face. I can’t catch up. There’s so much alive and I’m walking through it. Towards something that is no more. The light turns red. We are separated by the traffic. I should give up. I can’t. 

They enter Allegra’s. It’s a bar we used to go to. Used. To. When we had the same friends. They’re all still friends with us and each other except its different. There’s a dividing factor, an imaginary line in the room that is drawn. Makes same very different. Creates an uncomfortably large pink elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about. 

They take a booth and I shuffle over to the bar and wave down a bartender. As she sits he takes her coat. That was my gift. She laughed when I gave it to her. Tonight she still has the same laugh. But it’s laughing at his jokes now. His funny faces. Now I’m getting a double shot of unfamiliar poison and a Kentucky Jack straight. 

Through the passing bodies and open laughs I can see the world that I once occupied.

It’s so easy why are you leaving? 

It’s just because I’ve grown afraid of you. 

I wish we were at the beginning

It would be so good to be with you.

It’s been a half hour and a drink later. The rest of their party arrives and they all mingle. These aren’t my friends. I’m sipping my second Jack and watching from my stool. Her long hair is slightly tucked behind one ear. She has three hoop earrings in each ear. They get up and start talking. It’s killing me but I can’t help watch. Crunching my ice loudly, I turn to get a better view. Maybe part of me wants to be seen. Maybe expecting a reaction? Or nothing at all. She looks at me and turns back to the group. I can’t tell if there is recognition in those blue eyes. She reaches over and touches his hand. He leans in and whispers. She kisses his neck and whispers something back before tucking more hair behind her ear. She knows it’s me.

They start to leave and she turns my way once again. Between the crowded I can see them heading toward the backroom. Why leave? She knows I’m not going to talk to her. I’m afraid of what she might do. The kiss at the W hurt me more than any real wound she could have inflicted. It doesn’t have to be this way. We could be strangers in a bar making eye contact and moving back to our own worlds. It’s dark enough. He doesn’t need to know. This could have been so much better between us. Perhaps we could start over. Begin again instead of losing each other in the sea of nothing that occupies the spaces between. That beautiful hair whips around and those eyes send another ice jolt of blue through my heart before crossing the room. They’ve passed through the threshold.

I look at the man next to me and order another drink. The bartender laughs and hands me the bottle. I nod and tip him a twenty. It’s gonna cost a lot more than this before I’m done. I smile at the man next to me and raise the bottle. He nods and lifts his glass. We are going to be friends before the night is done. 

See that girl…

She’s over there. 

I don’t need her…

She don’t care. 

I could be one in a million. 

It would be so good to start again. 

An hour and a half later I’m pouring the drinks and asking for more ice. The man next to me is my confidant. We’ve connected by the good handshake of Jack and stories of heartbreak. I almost forget she’s in the other room. Then there they come. Laughing and shaking. He’s spinning her around to the sounds of nothing familiar. There’s no recognizable music for my ears. I can’t get over the way her hair moves in the light. I need another drink but the bottle is empty. Nodding the bartender addresses my dilemma and pours another round. 

They’re dancing and laughing. I can’t help but watch. Through my drunken rant I’ve given up. I’m telling my new friend about her. Pointing to the beautiful girl that doesn’t care about me anymore. Reminding my friend that she’s replaced me with him. Anybody with a gold watch. Proclaiming that I don’t need her anymore. These odds aren’t in my favor here. And I know it’s time to start over. But there’s still part of me that misses the beginning. It would be nice to be strangers again. Although there are things that couldn’t be understood without the past, it could be so good.

It’s so easy why are you leaving?

It’s just because I’ve grown afraid of you.

I wish we were at the beginning.

It would be so good to be with you.

They are putting on coats. Looking at the bar. Quickly shuffling their feet through the crowd. Moving back she leans into him. Turning toward me she pauses and faces him. Her hands flip down his shirt collar with care and I ignore another kiss. They are leaving. The other couple has already approached the bar and paid the tab. He spins her around one more time. I swallow the rest of my Jack in one gulp and slam down the glass. They already walked outside. I drop off Ben Franklin and pick up my coat before following.

Outside. Watching them embrace. Now he’s kissing her and trying to hail a cab. One arm wrapped around the small of her back while the other is waving. It’s a movie moment on the curb beneath the moonlight and I’m not in it. My stomach feels sick. I’m standing in the darkened shadows and trying to light a cigarette. That entire bottle of Jack wasn’t the best idea. I’m stumbling. Loudly coughing behind them while they wait for a cab. Turning. Now she sees me. The lines of her face change. She REALLY sees me. I’m exposed. The enemy revealed. The bad guy discovered. She pulls him closer to hurt me. Another kiss before a yellow cab hits the curb with a screech. He opens the door. She’s in and gone before I can react to the change. It’s too late. Done. But I’m chasing the cab anyway. Running and yelling. It’s getting away. I can’t see before it happens. Stumble. Street. Pavement meet face. How do you do?

I’m alone. Face down upon the blacktop in the dark. The sound of clacking grows louder as it approaches. I can only see two black shoes attached to a pair of stocking covered legs. Then turning and kneeling these legs rest before my tired face. A small soft voice whispers “take my hand.” I reach up and grab the hand. It belongs to a smiling girl with a short dress and a long coat. She’s looking more sympathetic with her grin than laughing as she helps me to my feet. I can’t walk straight. She asks if I want help. I say no and start off home. She walks with me anyway. Catching my arm when I stumble and talking to me about the stars. She’s a pretty girl with a pretty smile. I don’t know why she’s talking to me or helping me. But I’m not alone. I’m happy for the company and distracting information about stars.

We walk for fifteen blocks then reach my building. She asks if I need help upstairs. I smile and say no. I tell her thank you for the company and she tells me to call her before handing back my phone. I laugh and ask how long she had it. She says I left it in the bar. I get her number. She smiles and kisses my cheek before leaving. I’m still sick, but I remember how nice it feels to start again.

Take

I steal. I am a thief.  A writer. And I will take from you without apology. Your quirks, your comments, your habits are all mine for the taking. If you cannot handle it you... Speak up. Or forever hold your peace.

Someone I let in closer than I'd planned in months of recent smoked, and I can't promise this isn't part of what I created in the last few months or even that it has spillover every time I meet or see someone smoking. Maybe it's finally spilling out. Triggers and people to avoid if I don't wish to steal from them or maybe I do wish to steal from them? Because they think it's them & well it wouldn't be... Not entirely.

He knew the drill and I warned him, "I will write about you" and he said I will return in kind with my craft. So I knew that cruelty could come. And it did. Carefully I threaded my words knowing the weapons they could be perceived as. And hoped they wouldn't be. They were taken badly. I'm still coping; now I'm gracefully returning in kind. In a way that isn't direct, but it's rather opinionated, vulnerable, nakedly personal and yet somehow still lacking my predilection for revenge. Flaying & splaying seems less sadistic.

Just know that when you step out the door and cross my path I will steal from you. It's better you know this. If I like you, you end up in the dreamhouses or hinted in a glint of supportive words of Buddhism or your knack for forgetting becomes a character tick. My favorite dolls and kens are truly my favorite people to create from. Now if you hurt me... Well I think I like that he smoked. It's an easier affair because everyone does. Doesn't everyone now? I don't at all really unless it's a cigar. Cuban anyone? I drink. But I bet you all smoke. It's not personal that I'm throwing daggers. Because they aren't about you. Get out of your own way. 

I will steal from you. I am a thief. I am a writer. Just let me. Let me take from you. I don't want your soul or to take over your life. Just a smile, your quirks and a hint of what makes you... you. My advice: Please don't take it personal. Because even if I decide to take a piece... it's still not you. 

Here's a story about thieves.... From a series that may someday be a book.

Ever have anyone steal something from you? Want them too?  Would you let me?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

No honor among thieves.

(2-5-10)

Double crossed. That’s what I’m thinking as Dally stands over the body of his dead brother. Standing there between me and the open chest that holds the beating force of life. That’s my bounty and I’ve got a dead woman to answer for it. There really is no honor among thieves. Especially those who choose to steal your heart. Stealing? As if it was just that easy. Perhaps life has spared you such misfortune. If so, count yourself lucky. Most don’t get away so easily. 

Trickery is such a dirty word, but in this situation there really is no substitution. Simply because hearts are the hardest to walk away with. People like to pretend that it’s all out on the table. But be warned that pretty little package all tucked away nicely in your chest isn’t something you’d let go of easily. Quite often people like to confuse affections with hearts and hearts with love. Useless, but yet they hold on. Holding on tighter when they really should be letting go cause it’s really not like that at all. 

All of which makes my job so much harder. Needless to say, eyes are the easiest to steal. The Living tends to miss even the most obvious things with perfect vision. So often they will never see something coming, when it’s standing right in front of them. “Blind rather than deaf or dumb,” my grandma always used to say. If you can’t see it coming than you most certainly will hear it.

No honor among thieves. Thieves of the night. Out wandering among the shadows. Swindlers. Con artists. Double dealers. Looking for the next big score to settle. Specializing in the trade of the most precious of commodities. Moving between the living and the dead. See, not all living things have a bargain to make. In fact, wicked or not, the dead don’t rest like people would like to think. With the dead it’s more of a vendetta rather than unfinished business. Desperately as the living would like to believe otherwise, they possess nothing a dead man desires. Life? You can not get that back once it’s gone. 

As you might have guessed dealing with the deceased tends to be an unsavory experience. The vengeance of a departed spirit is nothing like that of a flesh & blood man. The dead can not be appeased. There is no end in sight. Nothing can ever quench the desire for retribution. For this reason contracts with the dead should only be entered into with great consideration. Until you’ve returned with exactly what they wanted you can count yourself as good as finished. Despite my better judgment I contract with the dead regularly. 

More often than not, the living do not appreciate my services. On occasion there is an opportunity for the eyes, ears, hands, and feet, well among other things, of an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend that come at the request of a forlorn lover. But typically the living doesn’t have the stomach for such things and run willy-nilly when I present my end of the bargain. There’s just no appreciation for craftsmanship these days.

Stiff and getting stiffed are pretty similar ideas. Either way you’re being fucked. Something about not being paid just gets under my skin and rubs the wrong way. Yet here I find myself about to come up empty handed. Nonetheless I live by a handful of personal rules. In this trade of lies there’s just no other way. Besides you can’t expect everyone else to abide by the same principles. Business is just business, nothing personal. 

As I finish slicing a hole through his neck I realize that Dallas knew that better than anyone else. Blood spills down the front of his shirt onto the downed corpse of his brother. Falling quickly, he grabs at the gaping wound with both hands. Words are of no consequence he’ll be dead soon. A little deeper and I’d have take his entire head clean off. Such a shame. Dallas and I went back a ways. He was a pickpocket I’d taken under my wing some years ago. Dally wasn’t a bad sort of fellow, neither was his brother for that matter. 

The story goes pretty simple. Seems that good ol Dally was sleeping with his brother’s old lady. Brother dear took it upon himself to kill the bad bird. Soon enough the dead canary pipes up wanting a piece of the action. Crazy bird wanted the heart from the heartless. Even in death she loved Dallas more. Unfortunately I’m not one to get mixed up in personal affairs. There’s no choice, but I have to get paid, hand over fist, one way or another. Dallas got in the way when he should have let me handle my business. He shouldn’t have been here tonight. Damn the luck. What’s done is done. 

If there’s something I’ve learned from this trade, there’s no honor among thieves

Extravagant

Overeating or indulging in the extravagant? Hmm... I know what I believe and practice. You decide what you put into your body dolls and kens. Does it have to be such a dirty mess. Or maybe it doesn't? 

Here's a very old story about savoring the most unique cuisine that happens to be quite extravagant. Dinner parties are interesting things... Aren't they?  Do you raid the fridge for food at night? 

Kisses, m. 

Dinner for six (Six for dinner)

(9-1-2009)

Making quick of this tedious work in the kitchen. Slicing carrots. Watching for the pot to come to a boil. Waiting on the oven timer to sound. People should begin to arrive shortly. Dinner is nearly finished. Doorbell. Charlotte and Randall. It should be no surprise as they usually arrive earlier than everyone else, even to an informal dinner. Charlotte gushes as she hangs her shawl, “Smells delicious! What are you making?” I wave my hand to give a sign that it’s a secret. Randall winks. He knows that I never reveal what I’ve made for dinner until after everyone has tasted it. My past entrees have included such things as Rattlesnake, Water Beetles and a very rare mushroom that could be mildly poisonous if prepared incorrectly, among other inauspicious foods that one wouldn’t willingly consume ordinarily. The chef never reveals the secret behind the meal.

The table is set for six. However there are still only five of us here. Patrick and Olivia have recently joined us in the front room as we wait for our final friend to arrive. Christian, as his usual form is running late. Olivia is very impatient and pacing. She handles her glass of red wine with the grace of a raging brute. It becomes certain, that as she’s talking and tossing the glass in the air with her wild hand movements, the liquid will spill out onto the floor. “Randall!,” screeches Olivia as she shakes the wine glass directly in his face, liquid nearly making contact with his clothing, “You talked to Chris last. Where is he?” Randall reaches up and braces Olivia’s glass then slowly removes it from her grasp. She stands there stunned. Still upset, she pulls out a cigarette and lights it. I’m not amused. There’s no smoking in my house. Charlotte looks at me and shakes her head. I nod. Dinner Time.

Everyone settles in at the table as dinner begins. The topic of conversation remains focused upon our missing friend.

Charlotte: “It’s just like Christian to do this. How are any of you surprised he didn’t show? By the way, this plate is majestic! Oh and... Anna, what is this meat? It has the most peculiar texture and its just heaven to taste.

Randall: “Charlotte, how can you be so callous? By the way, pass the wine. Christian isn’t always bailing. Sometimes there are legitimate reasons for his absences. Well, he does owe me some money, but that really shouldn’t have kept him away tonight. This is some form of a blood pudding isn’t it? Anna, you shouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to prepare this.”

Patrick: “Where is Christian? What possible excuse could he have this week? He’s always come by dinner in some form or another. It’s more than half past the hour and still a no-show. Anna, you really outdid yourself on this meal. You must share. It’s some form of primate, isn’t it? That would be a first. Am I right?

As my dinner guests ramble on, I grin, sip my wine and nod. Promising only to share once each of them had cleared a plate. They agreed.

Olivia: “I disagree! Charlotte, this happens to be the vilest thing Anna has ever prepared and I refuse to eat another bite. We should be calling Christian, not sitting at dinner like everything is ok. Anna did he call before we came? ”

I shake my head no and continue to sip my wine. I wouldn’t be lying at all, he didn’t call. After all, a little longer and they will give up on Christian coming tonight. My conscious was almost in the clear. Not that it really matters… Charlotte stops eating suddenly and pauses. She removes a long hair from her fork. “Anna, you seemed to have lost a hair in the dish.” Oh! Hopefully there aren’t more.

People are always so incredibly concerned with the type of food they eat. Where it came from? What’s in it? Who killed it? Some of the best dishes prepared come from the most ingenious ingredients. My talents knows no bounds this particular evening. Even I’m impressed with dinner. Truly divine. I had the opportunity to use a highly unusual source for my dish and jumped at it. To say this thought hadn’t crossed my mind before would have been lying.

Clearing the table and preparing to serve the dessert. Set out five cups of coffee to accompany a small torte that Patrick brought. Yet there’s more discussion of our absent friend and pressure to reveal the intricacies of my elegant yet interesting dish. Shaking the curiosity of the group proved to be rather difficult. As a matter of fact I felt quite reluctant to share this evening. Randall didn’t speak to me for a month when I served him part of a brown-horned toad as an appetizer. He felt it was a violation of the extinction of rare breeds. Suppose they didn’t understand about this type of delicacy.

He came in the kitchen while I was in the middle of preparing dinner. Sneaking up behind to playfully give me a scare. Christian and I had a long understanding of playful yet cruel jokes. This was no joke though. It all happened so suddenly, like a flash before my eyes. Arms grabbed my waist. Twist, jump, turn! Complete reaction. I didn’t intentionally mean to... Jugular. The kitchen blade pierced flesh, slicing through skin and physically incapacitating his entire body in a matter of seconds. Without thinking I pulled back my tool opening the wound even more, until it became an uncontrollable fountain. I know we didn’t see eye to eye on more than one occasion, but as much as the next person, I didn’t want to see Christian dead. Yet, there he was lying on the kitchen tile, blood pooling next to his body, eyes glazed over. Oh dear, what shall I do? Seeing that it had happened I couldn’t just waste the opportunity to experiment with new cuisine.

“So Anna,” Patrick addresses me carefully with a smirk, “We’ve sat through dinner, dessert, and now your time has come to share,” I should have known it would be Patrick. He had traveled with a missionary group sometime back and spent time living among a tribe of cannibals. I’d never questioned whether he’d partaken in the rituals, until now. His eyes revealed knowledge. “Or, perhaps Anna, I could enlighten our friends. But I think you might prefer to unveil your masterpiece.”

“Christian,” I start slowly and the words drop from my mouth, “You see... He made it to dinner after all.” Olivia drops her glass, lets out a blood-curdling scream and faints. Charlotte and Randall are both frozen in a catatonic open-jawed gasp. Patrick grins in a wider more sinister manner as he raises his glass to toast me on an exquisite meal.

Choice is yours

It’s not quite raining out and I'm talking to & watching them smoke in the almost rain again. It reminds me that I was once told...

You have cigarette smokers envy.

It sounds worst than it is. 

I'm not really jealous or bitter. 

No really I'm not.

Wait. 

Before you call me a liar.

Remember I can catch the knives now.

Smoking kills and yet

Smoking is a freedom to choose.

I don't truly get a choice.

I didn't choose vegetarianism. 

The universe chose for me.

It wasn't a Q&A situation.

I wasn't asked. 

I was given consequences.

They are bad. 

Hence... 

No eating meat.

Cigarettes are like that.

I like breathing & being healthy. 

Cigs on a regular or daily basis make that impossible.

My body chose this for me. 

I want a cheeseburger sometimes.

Steak too. 

Sorry Cows. And PETA.

The universe gives you what you need. 

I think I need a steak. 

My body knows it doesn't.

My body doesn't need a cigarette.

I do give it one on occasion.

So it's not judgement when I talk shit.

It's just in good fun.

Fun the way my friend's or date's still offer me bites of their chicken pasta before laughing at my reluctance.

Judgement is a bad habit.

Smoking is a bad habit too.

You are capable of both.

The point is you have a choice. 

Do or don't?

I used to smoke.

Everyday.

Long time back.
I don't really anymore.

They know this.

A pack a week became two.

Then my body said no more.

Two steaks a week maybe four.

Then my body said no more.

It's why they call my situation envious.

I'm more envious of someone enjoying a Kobe steak than their Marlboro reds, blacks or golds. 

I will fuck with you

If you fuck with me.

My so called envy may get me a sinus infection and bronchitis. As I suck back on a Camel menthol I bummed to start a convo & calm the nerves my insides will freak for a few days.

But a "1 Pack 2 Pack, Red Pack Blue Pack a week" habit could get you emphysema, a trach pipe or death.

Shall we fuck around with this?

Oh yes, let's... Not.

I don't expect you to quit.

I don't expect you to listen.

I don't expect you to change.

Do you expect me to start, copy and change to match you unhealthily?

It's weird. 

I don't want to.

I like me.

As me.

Do you like you?

As you?

It's ok to like me. 

I like you.

But know that I like you as you.

Not when you're trying to be me.

Granted sometimes I don't love myself enough when I take a drag.

And I will savor that secondhand smoke in a cool collected calm knowing I can walk away.

But I'm not judging.

I'm a tourist visiting the island of nicotine. You are a resident who can leave anytime.

Often I enjoy cigars with or without a glass of wine... Unapologetically. 

Want to visit cigar bar island?

Hi, I'm Monica and I'll be your guide this evening. 

Smoking or non-smoking section?

Drinking or non-drinking section?

Buddhism frowns upon drinking & smoking. 

Buddha doesn't frown on me.

People do. 

I'm guess I'm not their kind of Buddhist.

Oh no?

Oh well.

I drink. 

And rarely but on occasion I smoke.

It calms my nerves.

So I bum a cig.

Intro to a new friend.

It doesn't happen often.

Drinking happens more.

I wished cheeseburgers happened more often.

Bum a taste.

Just a bite.

Convo starter.

Can we be friends?

Hold on I'm gonna be sick.

You think its funny.

It's not funny.

The universe thinks its funny.

It's not funny.

I think its funny. 

It's not funny.

It's funny!

Liar?

Look...

I'll keep the knives and use them on my imaginary steak and you can smoke a bubblegum cigarette. 

Ok?

Cool.

I'm not perfect. 

Buddha doesn't care.

It matters to me.

My path is my own.

My mind & body are mine to care for.

You belong to you. 

To care for.

I know what works for me 

And what doesn't. 

Do you know what works for you?

Or do you like to fit?

I prefer knowing.

Although...

Ignorance is bliss.

Don't smoke?

Don't start.

Don't eat meat?

Don't start.

You can't miss what you never had.

I do miss the taste of steak like a memory I dreamed of once that's imagined but feels so real. 

But the memory is fading.

I do miss the calm that only the first drag off a cigarette can give you. 

It's only the first drag. 

I could press repeat!

I'm not envious of the smoking.

Not even jealous of steaks and burgers.

I love having the freedom of choice.

I choose to be free this morning

Waiting for the rain while sucking in the fresh air of...

Pollution.

We are our own obstacles. 

Get out of your own way.

Kisses, 

m.