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Isolated Blurt Thread Again

SweetWitch said:
Stupid broken bones hurt in the cold.
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Why do you think I stay as far south as I do. Shrapnel and metal knee caps hurt even worse. Not to mention the pins and screws.
 
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TxRad said:
Why do you think I stay as far south as I do. Shrapnel and metal knee caps hurt even worse. Not to mention the pens and screws.
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Pens in your bones could be a nasty business. If you're bones decide to write, they could out-do you.
 
Tio_Narratore said:
That's good advice to give yourself, Molly.
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It's more than advice. It's a new mantra. I have had a series of unfortunate events in 2018. 2019 will be better. I insist. Broken bones are no fun. My new physical therapist, on the other hand, is very hot. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into.
 
SweetWitch said:
It's more than advice. It's a new mantra. I have had a series of unfortunate events in 2018. 2019 will be better. I insist. Broken bones are no fun. My new physical therapist, on the other hand, is very hot. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into.
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No fun? Broken bones are among my favorites; they tell me so much of the life of the person they belong to. Oh, sorry, you mean when they're still among the living. Yeah, then they can be a problem, but I do have interesting memories of Brother Bernard breaking my nose for misbehaving in class, and then there were the ribs while coaching soccer... Not much fun at the time, but good stories now.
 
His name is Jimmy. He was a couple of years behind me at school, but in a town of 800 people, all the kids know each other. He was a skinny little dude, with bright blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair.

I didn't see him for a few years after I graduated. Then one day, I went to score some pills from one of my regular sources. There he was, several inches taller and not so skinny anymore, but I knew him immediately.

I was disappointed to see him there. Yes, I was there buying drugs too, but I was still in the time of my life when I could pretend to my self that I could handle them. I was dancing and I thought of them as an occupational necessity. Something to give me the energy to get through my shift, something else to bring me down afterward.

But Jimmy, that was different. He was a kid, he shouldn't be getting mixed up with drugs. Still, who was I to try to tell him a damn think about how to live his life?

I gave him my number and we would hang out once in a while. We'd go to McDonalds or Dunkin Donuts, then just walk around town. We would go sit by the river and share a joint. He never came on to me, but he would talk about how he wanted to come see me dance. He was too young to get in the club.

Life moved on and I lost track of him. I saw him one more time. I was walking home from the store and he pulled over and gave me a ride. He didn't look good. He had some Oxycontin and asked me if I wanted to get high with him. I told him that I was clean. He congratulated me and said he was thinking about going into rehab. We said we'd hang out again soon, but I moved away not long after and I did not see him again.

My Mom called today and asked me if I remembered Jimmy. I said that of course I did, and she told me that the talk was all over town. Jimmy had tried to get clean. He made it three weeks, then he bought a speedball.

He's in the hospital down in Portland, hooked up to a tangle of tubes and wires. There is no sign of brain activity. His father is driving in from somewhere out west. When he gets there, they will let Jimmy go.

My husband went out to a Superbowl party. I stayed home. I want to be alone. I am going to turn the lights down low and I am going to put on some music. The Beatles, I think. Jimmy loved the Beatles.

I'm going to dance for Jimmy.
 
My condolences, Melissa. Losing friends is always hard.
 
Tio_Narratore said:
No fun? Broken bones are among my favorites; they tell me so much of the life of the person they belong to. Oh, sorry, you mean when they're still among the living. Yeah, then they can be a problem, but I do have interesting memories of Brother Bernard breaking my nose for misbehaving in class, and then there were the ribs while coaching soccer... Not much fun at the time, but good stories now.
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Of all my broken bones over the past 12 months, my least favorite was the cracked rib. I couldn't even breathe for three days.
 
I thought I had writer's block after December.

Since then I've entered two stories for Valentine's Day, two for the 750 word project and I have just submitted another episode of my Tripletit saga.

I've also added about 10,000 words to incomplete stories.

I think I'm over writer's block. :)
 
Melissa; sympathy. Any death is not fun for those who remain.

I think I have set the record for Writer's Block.
 
I'm not a religious man but I'm currently asking the deities to help keep me from flaming a cyber bully. I know in my head that they feed on attention and I should ignore and move on buuut the combat sports side of me wants to engage.

I'm pretty sure the head will prevail especially since venting here :D
 
JanusGoneAwry said:
I'm not a religious man but I'm currently asking the deities to help keep me from flaming a cyber bully. I know in my head that they feed on attention and I should ignore and move on buuut the combat sports side of me wants to engage.

I'm pretty sure the head will prevail especially since venting here :D
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Oxygen starvation, delete and ignore are your friends. Do what I do: draft the reply but before you send, go to the top of the page and click on one of the headers instead. You feel better because you've written it down but not harmed anyone (including yourself) because it's not been sent.

Also, be prepared to wipe coffee from your screen, regularly. Just when you thought the moronic couldn't get more cretonic (is there such a word? there is now) someone will come along with a piece of such spectacular stupidity that exceeds anything that's gone before, and you realise that there is a God, who puts these people on the planet for the amusement of others. It's my proof of deism, there can be no other explanation :).
 
electricblue66 said:
Oxygen starvation, delete and ignore are your friends. Do what I do: draft the reply but before you send, go to the top of the page and click on one of the headers instead. You feel better because you've written it down but not harmed anyone (including yourself) because it's not been sent.

Also, be prepared to wipe coffee from your screen, regularly. Just when you thought the moronic couldn't get more cretonic (is there such a word? there is now) someone will come along with a piece of such spectacular stupidity that exceeds anything that's gone before, and you realise that there is a God, who puts these people on the planet for the amusement of others. It's my proof of deism, there can be no other explanation :).
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Thanks EB!!!
 
This fucking day. I don't think there's enough alcohol in this city to improve my mood. It might be time to update my resume.
 
Fuuuuuuuuuck! Just when you thought it was over... My wife is watching part 2 of the Michael Jackson documentary "Leaving Neverland" and I had to leave my own bedroom. Not because the documentary is bad (oh yes I went there) but it's just too bloody much. I would rather rewatch, huh, I was looking for a science fiction title that was bad enough that I wouldn't want to rewatch it and I couldn't come up with one, so there I'd rather watch ANY science fiction movie made than be trapped listening to the sordid details of how MJ played with little boys.

Phew I feel much better, now where is my copy of Earth Girls are Easy? :cool:
 
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