alt.lit.blog

[Tzara]

I know, I know.

Your question probably is, Don't we already have a blog?

Well, yep, we (at least the main PF&D forum) do, or does. Its in that "writer" zone, where you're supposed to write something about "writing" there.

I'm... well, I'm not always about writing. Sometimes I am. Often, I hope, I am. But sometimes, prolly too often, I'm about nonsense.

Flirting. Chitchat. Miscellaneous non-writing-like talkishness.

So here. Why this here.

This is my thread, so anyone can say anything they want here. You can go off topic, with my blessing. You can flirt, or rant, or even be offensive (within, of course, the greater ground rules of Lit itself), with my blessing.

You can, within reason, say anything you fucking want to here.

Geez. I shouda bolded that last thing.

The main point is to blog, of course. Why the thread.

So be bloggy, people.

Gloop.

 

[Tzara]

One

[soapbox]

I have been to a lot of customer software conferences. A lot of them. A lot.

Like, I've been doing this job for thirty years, off and on. So I mean, a lot.

This last one was weird. The opening address starts out: Welcome, Customers! We're really happy you're here. Now, to celebrate our wonderful and beloved country, we want you all to stand while we play the national anthem.

Everybody, of course, stands (I mean, at this point, you are some kind of terrorist if you don't) and listen to some guy's laptop play Oops! Mariah Carey—Cut that off! Cut that off! the Star Spangled Banner, complete with some Digital Flag Thing.

Made me Proud to Be an American. Like we're a brand or something.

Oh, and note: This company has foreign customers, presumably some of whom were here at the conference. They probably were cheered by us all singing the SSB.

I love my country. (I'm pissed that I even have to say that.) And one of the things I love about it is that it tolerates dissent. Disagreement. Free opinion. Free speech.

Well, usually.

And when it doesn't, we are diminished as a people.

[/soapbox]

 

[champagne1982]

Well, on the topic of anthems. O Canada is sung incorrectly by more people in this country than any other anthem on the planet (including the oh so wreckable SSB). I suppose we shouldn't expect differently when the words have changed more frequently than the ruling party in Alberta has. That doesn't bother me nearly so much as when the soloist at several hockey games and the like does that screechy fucking high note at the end. It's supposed to be a gentle slip lower on the scale, not a flying leap to high C...

 

[UnderYourSpell]

As you see from my AV I am English I come from England, I am not British I don't come from the United Kingdom. I stand to my National Anthem and I stand to attention on Poppy Day when they play the Last Post. I will hang my St George's Flag from my window and heaven help anyone who tells me it's not PC and may offend our ethnic communities. I will wish you Merry Christmas not bloody Happy holiday. If anyone of a different ethnic pursuasion wants to celebrate on their day well go ahead but don't try and stop me celebrating mine with all the trimmings that go with it. This is my land and I am proud of her and I will stand up and be counted

 

[bluerains]

yesterday

was just unbelievable...the x published his first poetry book , his new WIFE did the
illustrations , 4 poems were written for me and about our time and 1 poem
I colabed...I knew he was a cold hearted alien ...now, am wondering just what planet he really came from ..or maybe the dark lords sent him as a joke...

 

[Safe_Bet]

Thanks for this Tzara.

Other than that I don't have much to say. I've been feeling kind of yucky for the last few days and that scares me. I felt the same way before I miscarried the other times. Going to go see the doctor tomorrow.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Gentle hugs sweetheart

 

[champagne1982]

Best thoughts for your family of Six, darling SB. You're my favourite lesbian mommy and you'll always stay that no matter what may be in the future. Rest and stay positive.

 

[loststar]

rant mode

my soon to be ex husband wants to know why I seem happy, hmmm I can finaly plan a future that doesn't change on some one elses whim, I dont have to lie, to myself or to him, I am going to be living humbly but amongst my tribe, people who know all that is strange about me, and love me because of it, not despite it. I am trying to be graceful and suportive, but in order to do that I countiune to lie, some of that is a fake happiness, funny how when i was upset he didn't need my feelings inturupting his conversation, but now, when I have found happiness beyond him he is suddenly asking, why are things all peachy keen. Well they are not peachy keen, I am defending myself against people who call them selves my friends, I am scraping to save what i can, I am absoultly confused on how to interact or even what to call my soon to be ex, and I am scared out of my mind, but all of that is better than being a hopeless lair and having to see the pain in his eyes when a bit of the real me slips out... rant over

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Some people can't get beyond themselves perhaps it's the way they were brought up to think they were the most important person in the world and never taught to understand what 'no' means. So then they enter into a relationship without the partner realising they just don't understand about give and take and that although they would be quite happy to keep on doing all the taking no-one however much they love their partner can go on giving forever and still stay a whole person. It's like water eroding stone drip by drip and the stone will give way collapse under the strain. A lot more sorrier and unhappy and chances are the first person stillllllll won't understand and never will where they went wrong, so we have to pick up the pieces that we can live with. That's where true friends and family, if you are lucky enough, help to hold those peices together until finally one day they make a pattern again

 

[sassynyc]

Thanks for the thread Tzara. I don't have anything prolific to say, just the need to shed the weight of some words. Where to begin? Last week, I watched a new show called Life On Mars. The gist of the show, is that this cop, in 2008, has a car accident that renders him comatose. He wakes up, inside this coma, in 1973. Time travel with a not so new twist. The show is based in NYC. I was curious to see how they'd transform the city for that era.

Have you ever felt a sense of dread hovering around you, but you cant quite place it? Better yet, below the surface, you know exactly what it is, and would rather not confront it. This is the feeling I had while watching this show. The directors were very thorough in matching events of the day, to the happenings in the episode. It was all carefully done, from the clothes people wore and the cars they drove.....right down to the commercials of that era. I felt this latent dread that The World Trade Center was going to be depicted somehow. I figured maybe some old footage of the construction, or old photgraphs might be used. I've repeatedly seen photos of the WTC since then, but they were just photos. Pieces of paper with memory recorded into the fibers. No big deal. This was different. Maybe it takes living here and seeing the degeneration happen before your eyes, to understand the feeling.
I braced myself for the images.

No such luck. The wonders of CGI are eerily amazing. This disoriented cop (who doesn't realize he's not in post 9/11 NYC) begins to get his bearings and starts taking in his surroundings. He's looking around with an expression of 'WTF!' And you know the instant he sees it....speechless. The camera pans out, and there on the screen, larger than life, are the Twin Towers. It was beautiful and disturbing all at once. It appeared completely tangible and it sparkled like a new dime.

It's amazing the things your senses can trigger. Since 9/11, whenever I smell hot metal, I automatically start looking for a point of exit. There doesn't even have to be smoke. I remember seeing the WTC on that screen, like two planes had never plowed through them, and thinking, 'that's gorgeous' and then wanting to cry. I mean bawl, like a baby. Only, I couldn't. Not a single tear. That was almost a week ago. I still feel it, and still no tears.
No place else for it to come out except the pen.

Living in such close proximity to 9/11's devastation, the memory of that day never gets old. Even when you thnk you're not thinking about it, it's there, like an undeveloped negatve. I saw things that day that made me want to scrub my grey matter with bleach. Until seeing a little camera trick on tv, I'd duped myself into thinking I had.




Add to all that, I'm not feeling the love from the muse. I couldn't write my way out of the wilderness, following a trail of alphabet crumbs, if it led to the pearly gates of the Merriam-Webster Palace.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Charles was a regular at My Bar until the location changed, and he couldn't walk there anymore. Now I see him sometimes at a slightly more upscale place downtown. He's a tall, lanky Black man, somewhere between 60 and 75, pretty hard bitten and usually pretty drunk when I see him. He's an amiable sort, with that immense and sincere friendliness that comes from a combination of a basic good nature, a really rough life that has managed to make him grateful instead of bitter, and a pretty serious attachment to booze. He has a few less teeth than he should, and never graduated from high school, but nobody at My Bar holds that against him.

The other night he showed up at the bar wearing an Obama hat with three Obama buttons on it, and an Obama T-shirt. And he had a story. I'll try to tell it in his words.

"Guy comes up to me yesterday and says he don't care what McCain is, he could be the most evil man on the earth but he still votin' for him because he ain't never gonna vote for no Black man. An' that's alright because what I'm sayin', what I always said, is that we live in America and everyone got a right to hold they own opinion, no matter what it is. This guy wants to say he won't vote for no Black man, that's his right, cause that's free speech, an' that's what America's about."

I could pontificate about this, and talk about how much it appalls me that there are still people like that white bastard in the world. Somehow, I don't meet them; perhaps my look and my job keep them from saying that sort of thing to me, and perhaps there's some look in my eye that makes it clear I'd lunge at anyone who went there, regardless of their size or ability to hurt me. I don't know. I could talk politics, or race issues, or how much it terrifies me that that bastard is going to the polls and that his vote will actually count. I could talk about how much humanity disappoints me on a regular basis.

Instead I'll just say this:

Charles is my hero. And Charles is smarter and more beautiful than most people I know, and has a better handle on patriotism and freedom of speech than I do, since I'd have probably done my best to shut that bastard up.

that's all.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

T
Add to all that, I'm not feeling the love from the muse. I couldn't write my way out of the wilderness, following a trail of alphabet crumbs, if it led to the pearly gates of the Merriam-Webster Palace.

But Baby, you just did!

 

[Safe_Bet]

Hi.

Figured I'd share with all of you all at once and get it out of the way.

Just got back form the doc and she has me on complete bed rest (maybe till the babies can be born). The spotting has seemed to have stopped for now and the ultrasound she did doesn't show anything. But because they are twins, spotting of any kind is not good. When you add in my prior miscarriages she says that I have about a 50% chance of carrying to term.

Some of you guys probably know that I am crying my eyes out right now. I don't know what to do and it scares the shit out of me. I don't know if I can deal with this again. I keep asking myself what the hell I did wrong. I know on a logical level, from the other times, that it really isn't any thing I've done, but I FEEL as if I did something to hurt my babies and its making me crazy.

Of course, the doc told me the best thing for me to do is stay calm. HA! Amy gave her the patented Amy "You are REALLY fucked up to even suggest that" look and the doc put her face in her hands and said "yeah, that was stupid.”

I'm really hating life and myself right now. If I lose these babies I'm not going to get over it this time. I’m trying real hard to keep happy thoughts about Amy and the girls. It's not working worth shit.

Well there's the up date.

(yeah I know. This looks like part of the email I sent some of you cuz it is. I'm a lazy bitch too)

 

[unpredictablebijou]

You know we're all lighting candles here for you. Here's an actual site that can help. Anyone who wants to light one can go there; I've created the group name "poets" in case you want to associate the candle with this group.

Sweet one, remember that babies make their own choices. Past a certain point, you have to let whatever gods you believe in take care of it for you, and just trust. And don't forget, no matter what, you have two beautiful girls and a beautiful mate who already count, and already rely on you. Talk to them, talk to the babies, and talk to the angels. All of them. They can hear you. They will listen.

Take it from someone who Knows.

bj

 

[WickedEve]

I wish I could give you my uterus. I'm finished with it. Or even better, I could carry the babies for you. I'm tall with a long torso and both of my kids had way too much room. I could carry sextuplets with no problem. So, just do what you have to do and be your babies' mommy-hero.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I don't know if I am close to tears here for Sassy for SB for Bj or for me. I flew into Vancouver on 9/11 and was caught up in it all as everything was diverted there a dreadful dreadful time and by the time we got through the airport over 6 hours later out tour had gone without us stranding us in a strange land and a people so full of pain yet they reached out to help us.
I don't know what it's like to carry babies I only wish I did the closest I can come to that pain is knowing I can't that my body won't give me what I once wanted so badly and made me feel like less of a woman somehow. Like so many other things in my life I came to terms with it ... it's called survival.

That Life on Mars prog started out over here first

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I think maybe men aren't coached on what "teasing" is.

He'll never read this, but I really wish he would:

Youngster:

There's good teasing and bad teasing. Good teasing is when you know what's going to happen and you're prolonging it, drawing it out for a while, making it last. Offering it in spoonfuls and being slow and deliberate.

Bad teasing is being uncommitted, playing head games, being coy, being indecisive, feigning ignorance, and being unclear. That's not even teasing. That's being More Trouble Than You're Worth.

think hard. I'm a busy grrrl. Yes can take as long as it needs to. But No can be rather surprisingly immediate if all you want to do is fuck with my head.

I really need an alt for rants like this.

bj

 

[Tzara]

It seems to be a downer day at the blog, and I don't mean that to be flip.

Bad things are bad things and bad things seem to be the story of the day. Blue and loststar have ex (or near-ex) problems, Sassy has had a flashback, and SB has had upsetting news about her pregnancy.

Life isn't always fun.

I wish you all well and, most particularly, SB. My thoughts are with you, m'dear.

Re Bijou's post (here is my blog part):

I was over at my parents' house a couple of weeks ago, looking at the newspaper. My mother happened to comment that she "didn't like that Obama."

I asked, "What don't you like about him, Mom?"

And she said, "I just don't like him." All she could come up with.

There was a bit more to it than that, but that's the gist of the conversation. What am I to think from that exchange other than (not that I want to think this) my Mom doesn't want to vote for Obama because he's black? Is there another explanation? I've tried to come up with one, but I can't.

And this really, really pisses me off.

Now, I actually expect her to, when it gets right down to it, vote Democratic. That isn't the point. The point is that I now believe my Mother is, at some level, racist.

And that isn't something I want to believe.

I sometimes think that your parents, as they age, become more and more unattractive to you so that losing them becomes easier. If you're irritated by them, their death doesn't make you quite as sad.

If that's true, she just notched another point on the It Won't Hurt Me That Much scale.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Whoa. That is truly rough. Perhaps true. Definitely rough.

My own mom finally remarried (for the fourth time) and there was a sense that she'd finally found the family she'd always wanted. Three kids, all adults, all good Christian breeders who are giving her the lovely grandchildren, the lovely minister husband, the lovely Republican perfection, the lovely Pat Robertson-watching laxative-dependent lifestyle she's always wanted. We three were such a disappointment to her, all fucked up. There's me, (nuff said) my sister who's in and out of various legal and other institutions, and my brother who disappeared nine years ago and refuses to contact anyone. I'm pretty sure he's happy. It was a smart move.

My own adulthood has been a slow move from anger to pity. I'm not sure which one she'd prefer, but there it is. At least I didn't write a book, like Christina Crawford.

Or Stephen King.

just trying to add a dark little lol, there at the end. um. sorry...


Seems like I'll just leave with this.

Try to have a better night, y'all.

 

[normal jean]

/./././...

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I sometimes wonder who fucked up my mother so much that she felt the need to pass on the favour to me. Hers was a like a different world when she was younger. She left school at 14 with not a lot of education under her belt but that was the normal thing to do in England in those days when you were working class. She went straight into service (that is being a maid in a big house belonging to gentry or upper class) and it's hard work rising very early in the morning for bed and board and not a lot of money in your pocket. About the only time they got to go home was on Mothering Sunday (now completely mixed with Mothers Day) but originally the day all the maids got to go home and see their mothers. When she met my Father he was chauffeur to a vicar (horses in those days) and before that he was on the fishing boats but I only remember him working on a farm as a shepherd. I know times were hard with not a lot of money and at one time my father lost his job because he talked trade unions. With the job going so did the tied cottage we lived in making them homeless with three children. It was allowed to happen in those days circa 1958 with no come back to employers. My mother worked the fields picking potatoes from the mud, picking what ever vegetable or fruit was in season to make ends meet ........ I did too when I was old enough. It didn't seem strange everyone did it not a lot of love around just hard work in bitterly cold conditions it was expected of us to toil the fields. I reckon where I went wrong was to have brains not brawn and with whatever else she had to endure she couldn't cope.

 

[vampiredust]

My paternal grandmother died this morning and like the last time someone died, my maternal grandfather, I didn't cry. Hell, I didn't feel anything. No remorse, sympathy, anything

Now, I was closer to my maternal grandfather and didn't feel any rush of emotion. My older sister chided me for not crying but I couldn't force myself to. I wanted to grieve in my own kind of way.

But this time it's like there is nothing I can possibly grieve over. My father's side of the family has always been almost alien to me. I was never accepted by them, never had the chance to feel like I was one of the family.

 

[Angeline]

My paternal grandmother died this morning and like the last time someone died, my maternal grandfather, I didn't cry. Hell, I didn't feel anything. No remorse, sympathy, anything

Now, I was closer to my maternal grandfather and didn't feel any rush of emotion. My older sister chided me for not crying but I couldn't force myself to. I wanted to grieve in my own kind of way.

But this time it's like there is nothing I can possibly grieve over. My father's side of the family has always been almost alien to me. I was never accepted by them, never had the chance to feel like I was one of the family.

I'm sorry Chris. I think your response is normal. The only person I ever cried for at the time of death was my father, and I suspect that was as much for release as grief. He had suffered with cancer for two years and I took care of him, so I knew firsthand what he was experiencing. The others it took a long time, sometimes years, before I could really feel what I needed to feel. And that's ok. We find our own ways to grieve and our own ways to honor those we love who've died. Be at peace with yourself.

 

[champagne1982]

Sadly, sometimes our families are strangers. Most of my relatives live 2000 miles from here, that doesn't mean we don't communicate often, just that we don't live on each other's doorstep.

I think when the old folks start to pass, I'll make the journey there and mourn but only those who've actively been a part of my life will earn my grief. I think this is normal and feel no remorse for feeling sadness but not sorrow, emptiness but not pain.

Best thoughts to you and your family Christian.