I’m not dead yet…

Which is to say, Happy Birthday to me! Hooray, huzzah, hoopideedoo!

Still Alive

I honestly had my doubts.  I survived 2018. However, it left scars.

I love almost everything P!nk sings, but in particular, I love this song and this lyric:

“Look, I’m still around.”

Things I want for my birthday.

  • Flowers: Sweetheart pink roses, white daisies, yellow daffodils, orange lilies, purple statice, green leaves.
  • Sushi: Because I always want sushi.
  • Steak: Rare, but it has to be good steak. NO SIRLOIN!
  • Whiskey/Beer: Not an issue when you’re born on St. Patrick’s Day. NO GREEN DYE!
  • Silence: Let me put in earplugs and not have to talk to anyone, so I can recharge.
  • Time: I really need to do some painting, some reading, some writing.
  • Sex: Unfortunately, I need love to enjoy sex. And I am still in love with a man who… well, it’s complicated. So maybe I can make-do with some chocolate and a vibrator.

People say I am hard to shop for, but I really am not. Because I believe in making myself happy so all the above, that’s on me.  Instead, buy me something that you will think I will like, and the knowledge that you thought about me and what I might like is the real gift.

That is not a line of bullshit.  It is the 100% bonafide truth.

In regards to my writing, I am slogging along with my novella Wife, Lover, Abigail.

The details have to be exact, since I am dealing with such a serious topic, and that requires time to do the necessary reading.  In the meantime, this article is relevant.

https://www.lennyletter.com/story/how-rape-was-used-as-a-weapon-during-the-revolutionary-war

While I’ve been doing the legwork, my mind has been stepping out on me with my muse.

That is to say, I have been working on a novella that is set on a college campus during the 1980s. I am still trying to nail down the central conflict on that story. Probably something to do with anti-nuclear proliferation, but maybe the AIDS epidemic.

I have also been working on a novella that involves two spies in the pre-OSS American intelligence community. She’s Jewish; her name is Esther. I haven’t figured out his name yet, but he’s a Gentile from the Midwest. Maybe he should be called Christopher or Christian. I plan on naming the story The Third Degree.

And I have been writing poetry.

I used to compose needlessly long and sentimental drivel that I forced my mom to read.

When I list the things I have done in my life that need forgiveness, that’s one of them.

Really, all I was doing was attempting to create a safe space, in an effort to protect myself from criticism.  I have since trained myself to adhere to a rhythm scheme and I feel powerful enough not to care. Don’t know why.

not everyone deserves

I am not ready to release my other poems, but I think I am ready to release one of them.

I wrote this poem in October 2018, when I was disarranging my life for good. Take that both ways. For good, permanently.  For good, as improvement. I am also referring to a song by K’s Choice called “Virgin State of Mind.”

And I am stalling. Here’s my poem in 6-beat lines. May I live long enough to write more.

enigma

I met a soldier once;
was acting as a spy.
eagle on two branches,
an airman, do or die.

I met a nomad once;
his house was not his own.
foot in sea, foot in sand,
a king who’d sold his throne.

still yet, a re-admit;
was passing through my door.
with Summers as his guide,
he’d been there once before.

so do I know enough,
to call the code to crack?
even in my anguish,
I will not take it back.

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