Isolated Blurt Thread

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I grew up in the shadow of that mountain. I woke each morning to the sun pouring over those hills, and I fell asleep each night to the sun blanketing those peaks.

Those dirt brown foothills that look like so much yuck? Those hills hold a bevy of treasure. They house one of the most prodigious fossil beds in the world; not only fossils, but oil, natural gas, and bentonite, too. Paleontologists rub shoulders with ranchers; oilmen associate with farmers. It’s not an easy land; but it’s a captivating one. It’s a high plains desert: elevation 4500 feet in the basin, 13,000 feet at the top of Cloud Peak. Summer temps are in the 90s to 100s(F); winter temps range from -30 to 20(F). Rivers, lakes, and ponds freeze for months at a time. It’s nearly April, and the ground is still mostly frozen. Overnight temperatures are in the teens; tomorrow during the day it’s supposed to be in the 60s. It’s not uncommon to see a 40 degree difference in temperatures from night to day. You learn to dress in layers. You learn to be prepared. Towns are few and far between. People wave to you as they pass you on the highway likely because you’re the first car they’ve seen in 30 miles. The men are tough. The women, too, and yet they still manage a unique femininity the likes of which I’ve rarely encountered elsewhere.

I’m amazed at times to reconnect with where I came from, and compare it to where I’ve been since. I’ve traveled far and experienced much, and yet this place grounds me like no other. I come here to reconnect with my past, with myself, with the earth, with the salt of the earth, with people who know me and my genealogy just as well as I do. I come here to remember, and sometimes I come here to forget. Growing up, I thought I’d be a rancher’s wife; and yet my path took me elsewhere. I don’t regret it; I am what I am, and coming here makes me realize I don’t need anyone to tell me how good or bad or in between I am. I come here to shed the layers I’ve put on over the months and years I’ve been away. I come here to heal, and be healed. I come here to sit with my feelings and thoughts with minimal interruption and simply be, in the shadow of that mountain, me.
 
I finally watched the episode of Through The Wormhole that I've been waiting for. I'm an avid follower of anything and everything related to physics, cosmology, and quantum mechanics, and when I heard this special episode was going to be on, I couldn't wait for it.

Basically, it centers around the four-decades-long quest to manifest and measure a Higgs boson particle, via the Large Hadron Collider. Sometimes called the "God particle," it is the supposed reason for the creation and subsequent evolution of the universe. Without it, energy would never (according to theory) have coalesced into mass, and we would therefore not exist.

I was happy to see that my own personal theory -- that the Higgs boson might be related to dark energy -- was shared by at least a few scientists out there.

Okay, enough high-brow. I need to get back to writing smut. :p
 
:rose: McKenna.
Moved by your sadness. It's a privilege to spend a flicker of time with you and yours.

(I came on to blurt about something else but I realise I haven't even got time to blurt, LOL! Laters.)
 
I finally watched the episode of Through The Wormhole that I've been waiting for. I'm an avid follower of anything and everything related to physics, cosmology, and quantum mechanics, and when I heard this special episode was going to be on, I couldn't wait for it.

Basically, it centers around the four-decades-long quest to manifest and measure a Higgs boson particle, via the Large Hadron Collider. Sometimes called the "God particle," it is the supposed reason for the creation and subsequent evolution of the universe. Without it, energy would never (according to theory) have coalesced into mass, and we would therefore not exist.

I was happy to see that my own personal theory -- that the Higgs boson might be related to dark energy -- was shared by at least a few scientists out there.

Okay, enough high-brow. I need to get back to writing smut. :p

There's not enough smut in colliding hard-ons? And Ms. Higgs' bosom? You know, the part that causes men to exclaim "God!" and whose manifestation has led to a great quest to actually measure it? And watching all this through a hole?
Seems to me, Slyc, that you've just written some smut. ;)
 
There's not enough smut in colliding hard-ons? And Ms. Higgs' bosom? You know, the part that causes men to exclaim "God!" and whose manifestation has led to a great quest to actually measure it? And watching all this through a hole?
Seems to me, Slyc, that you've just written some smut. ;)

Erotic authors can turn anything dirty. :p
 
OK, I probably just have time for my blurt, at last! before I get on with clearing the kitchen and washing up and doing the ironing - but that's another blurt.

I just want a blurt (unless anyone on here has really good advice about repressing powerful emotions - ha ha, exactly). Just move along now and don't bother to read this, it's full of swear words such as a lady like wot I am very rarely uses. (Although I do say them in a very posh voice, placing heavy emphasis on the 'ck' sound and going 'ffffff' if you like that kind of thing.)

So the stupid line manager, all I asked was Can she move back my tutorial by an hour to noon because my train gets in only 20 minutes beforehand, which is not really enough time to get from the station to the venue and if the train is delayed, I will be late. She emails back, what's the problem? I repeat: I only have 20 minutes to get there and everything. If you don't mind me being late, that's fine but can you move it back to noon. After several days, she emails to say: Can't you get an earlier train? And now I have to email and say: I am leaving the house at 6 am on the first train of the day. I get home at 7 pm, after a 13 hour day. I went up there to teach the tutorial last Saturday in six inches of snow. Do you seriously think I'm not doing enough here?!!! Can you move the fucking tutorial because if it's a problem I don't care but if it's easy, can't you make my life a bit easier? Are you a fucking line manager or someone who just likes to make problems for everyone so you can run around like a headless chicken pretending that we need you, when actually we could get on a lot better without your so-called management. Don't even answer that, you fucking headless chicken.

And BTW, thank you headless chicken, for putting me up to do all the tutorials for which travelling is required, even though there are other people who don't have small children so wouldn't have had to sacrifice family time to do this. Without asking me.

And no, I've decided I don't want to do that little bit of teaching which you are completely unclear about how much it is, how long it would go on for, whether I'd have to do marking too, and how much I might get paid for it.

Smile and wave, Smith, smile and wave. Just think about the salary and say: That'll do nicely!!!! (Except about the underpaid extra teaching, just smile and wave that past - lovely.)

Ahhh, fucking whisky, I think, I'm going back to Naked Party and I shall be calling in on my bottle of Talisker en route. And then I shall do the fucking clearing and fucking washing up and fucking ironing. Having already bathed the child and put it to bed and phoned the Outlaw Dad to make sure he's not off with the fairies, after the Outlaw Granny phoned in a panic and phoned her to soothe her - yes he is still alive. But I have not of course phoned the Fella to say: Where the Fuck are you?!!! (unlike the woman of every other man he is out with) because I know, and it doesn't really matter which pub.
 
OK, I probably just have time for my blurt, at last! before I get on with clearing the kitchen and washing up and doing the ironing - but that's another blurt.

I just want a blurt (unless anyone on here has really good advice about repressing powerful emotions - ha ha, exactly). Just move along now and don't bother to read this, it's full of swear words such as a lady like wot I am very rarely uses. (Although I do say them in a very posh voice, placing heavy emphasis on the 'ck' sound and going 'ffffff' if you like that kind of thing.)

So the stupid line manager, all I asked was Can she move back my tutorial by an hour to noon because my train gets in only 20 minutes beforehand, which is not really enough time to get from the station to the venue and if the train is delayed, I will be late. She emails back, what's the problem? I repeat: I only have 20 minutes to get there and everything. If you don't mind me being late, that's fine but can you move it back to noon. After several days, she emails to say: Can't you get an earlier train? And now I have to email and say: I am leaving the house at 6 am on the first train of the day. I get home at 7 pm, after a 13 hour day. I went up there to teach the tutorial last Saturday in six inches of snow. Do you seriously think I'm not doing enough here?!!! Can you move the fucking tutorial because if it's a problem I don't care but if it's easy, can't you make my life a bit easier? Are you a fucking line manager or someone who just likes to make problems for everyone so you can run around like a headless chicken pretending that we need you, when actually we could get on a lot better without your so-called management. Don't even answer that, you fucking headless chicken.

And BTW, thank you headless chicken, for putting me up to do all the tutorials for which travelling is required, even though there are other people who don't have small children so wouldn't have had to sacrifice family time to do this. Without asking me.

And no, I've decided I don't want to do that little bit of teaching which you are completely unclear about how much it is, how long it would go on for, whether I'd have to do marking too, and how much I might get paid for it.

Smile and wave, Smith, smile and wave. Just think about the salary and say: That'll do nicely!!!! (Except about the underpaid extra teaching, just smile and wave that past - lovely.)

Ahhh, fucking whisky, I think, I'm going back to Naked Party and I shall be calling in on my bottle of Talisker en route. And then I shall do the fucking clearing and fucking washing up and fucking ironing. Having already bathed the child and put it to bed and phoned the Outlaw Dad to make sure he's not off with the fairies, after the Outlaw Granny phoned in a panic and phoned her to soothe her - yes he is still alive. But I have not of course phoned the Fella to say: Where the Fuck are you?!!! (unlike the woman of every other man he is out with) because I know, and it doesn't really matter which pub.


Wow !
:rose:
 
Just smile and wave, Dragon, let's go to Naked Party.
:rose:

< smiles & waves, if somewhat vacantly >

You set out an absolute dream of a problem for which one should write a rebuttal to your HC. I've had arguments (as in debates) like this before. They are fun. One can have hours of literary amusement with them.

We have a similar set of problems with my part-time organisation. 'Regional Head Office' won't pay for a phone line to be put in but expected all outposts to be able to get everything electronically, rather than the old way - by post.
But they don't like the idea of us fixing things for ourselves locally; at all.
So we'm between a rock and a hard place.
:)
 
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Just returned from the cinema after watching a live transmission of the modern ballet Alice from the Royal Opera House.

It was a wonderful evening at a reasonable cost, discounted for senior citizens. While I'd like to see such performances AT the Royal Opera House, I don't want to take out a mortgage for one evening's entertainment.

If the tickets had been £50 each I might have been reluctant to see a ballet I'd never seen, but at £10 each with free car parking - Bliss!
 
Just returned from the cinema after watching a live transmission of the modern ballet Alice from the Royal Opera House.

It was a wonderful evening at a reasonable cost, discounted for senior citizens. While I'd like to see such performances AT the Royal Opera House, I don't want to take out a mortgage for one evening's entertainment.

If the tickets had been £50 each I might have been reluctant to see a ballet I'd never seen, but at £10 each with free car parking - Bliss!

We get Met Opera & NY Ballet on AMC theater screens in my area
 
I wish we could get such culture up in my neck of the woods.

It was shown in 600 cinemas world wide. During the intervals they were showing tweets from France, Belgium, Brazil, Venice and the Isle of Elba.

The Royal Opera House live transmissions show in some unusual places. Apart from our local multiplex, we have seen performances in Rhyl and Coventry...

Perhaps you should have a word with the manager of your local cinema. Ballet performances are usually 75% or more fully booked; Opera 60% or more but locally Parsifal was undersubscribed mainly because of the date.

There are also simultaneous or delayed transmissions from Shakespeare's Globe and the Metropolitan Opera, New York.

Google and you will find.
 
:rose: McKenna.
Moved by your sadness. It's a privilege to spend a flicker of time with you and yours.

(I came on to blurt about something else but I realise I haven't even got time to blurt, LOL! Laters.)

:rose:

Erotic authors can turn anything dirty. :p

Man, ain't that the truth! And usually at the MOST inappropriate times, too. :rolleyes: :D


...Just move along now and don't bother to read this, it's full of swear words such as a lady like wot I am very rarely uses...

Ooooh, I think I like it when you swear. But then, I'm a sucker for passionate outbursts. ;) :D
 
Man, ain't that the truth! And usually at the MOST inappropriate times, too. :rolleyes: :D

I have to admit that there have been numerous times in which I have wished I wasn't a writer of erotic prose (or for that matter, a guy with hormones still raging after four decades). Just about every one of those times has come when my wonderful, innocent daughter has said something that just sounds . . . funny. And those dirty little wheels start spinning, and I try to resist . . . I really, really do . . . yet, there's that snicker, that blush, that sidelong comment.

And the funniest part is that I look at my wife and she already knows why I'm laughing.
 
I have to admit that there have been numerous times in which I have wished I wasn't a writer of erotic prose (or for that matter, a guy with hormones still raging after four decades). Just about every one of those times has come when my wonderful, innocent daughter has said something that just sounds . . . funny. And those dirty little wheels start spinning, and I try to resist . . . I really, really do . . . yet, there's that snicker, that blush, that sidelong comment.

And the funniest part is that I look at my wife and she already knows why I'm laughing.

And before you know it they're trying to change the subject when their girlfriend asks for the links to your erotic stories because that's the good stuff and she wants to read all of them. He's 39, not embarrassed as much as he is uncomfortable by the erotica. ;)
 
< smiles & waves, if somewhat vacantly >

You set out an absolute dream of a problem for which one should write a rebuttal to your HC. I've had arguments (as in debates) like this before. They are fun. One can have hours of literary amusement with them.

We have a similar set of problems with my part-time organisation. 'Regional Head Office' won't pay for a phone line to be put in but expected all outposts to be able to get everything electronically, rather than the old way - by post.
But they don't like the idea of us fixing things for ourselves locally; at all.
So we'm between a rock and a hard place.
:)

LOL, the trouble with these people is, they look at you and think: 'Oh dear, that one sounds much more intelligent than me,' and if you're not careful, they catch you laughing up your sleeve and then they realise you've always known it. I don't know why stupid people hate the people they manage to be intelligent. Intelligent people go, "Hey, great! this one's intelligent so I can leave them to get on with the job while I suck up Sea Breezes by the pool."

OK, I shouldn't have emailed: Ooops, my bad! that time I was too bored to fill in the form correctly.

[B said:
McKenna[/B]]Ooooh, I think I like it when you swear. But then, I'm a sucker for passionate outbursts.

This one is just for you:

Fffffffffffuck<ah!>
:rose:
 
And before you know it they're trying to change the subject when their girlfriend asks for the links to your erotic stories because that's the good stuff and she wants to read all of them. He's 39, not embarrassed as much as he is uncomfortable by the erotica. ;)

I haven't that exact problem yet. At this point, it's more a measure of suppressing the natural inclination I have to pervert ordinary words and phrases.

Honestly, as she become older, I think it will be easier. Or I hope, anyway.
 
I haven't that exact problem yet. At this point, it's more a measure of suppressing the natural inclination I have to pervert ordinary words and phrases.

Honestly, as she become older, I think it will be easier. Or I hope, anyway.

LOL, yes she will be able to teach you the new words and mobile phone shenanigans she picks up at school. :D
 
LOL, yes she will be able to teach you the new words and mobile phone shenanigans she picks up at school. :D

My wife and I actually had a conversation about that earlier. I've recently been cringing at the use of the word "epic" in everything from casual speech to commercials, which prompted us to imagine what our daughter may be spouting once she's a teenager.

Given the propensity of one generation to expound upon that which proceeded it, I suggested that "cool" would be replaced by "frozen," and "hot" would be supplanted by "volcanic."

"Check out that car. That's totally frozen."

"Wow, look at her. She's volcanic."

If nothing else, perhaps I could introduce those terms into a sci-fi story . . . .
 
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