09 Thursday Jan 2020
Posted in Uncategorized
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Well, I started my Christmas story last night. I have my characters, my plot, my various embellishments to the story, a theme. Simple enough. Now all I have to do is write it. This is where it gets hard, as I try not to overthink, overembellish, and fill the story with unnecessary details.
09 Thursday Jan 2020
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≈ Comments Off on Guava Bars
Publix has this confection called Guave Bars, a very sweet cake with a guava paste filling. Caution: This product is highly addictive.
How addictive? Better than sex addictive.
How addictive? If you are diabetic, you would risk amputation for one of these. (Not quite, but almost.)
How addictive? Find out for yourself.
09 Thursday Jan 2020
Posted in Uncategorized
For some reason, comments was disabled on Post Office..
With luck, if you wish to make a comment on the previous entry, you can and may on this post
08 Wednesday Jan 2020
Posted in Erotic Writing, Uncategorized
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NSFW. Fantasy. 18+
For my muse in Savannah
It was a nice thick mailing envelope, perfect for this purpose. She waited patiently on line, behind the elderly woman with a parcel for Bettendorf, or so the label said. She fancied the woman was sending something to her grandchildren or even great-grandchildren. Certainly possible these days.
The woman put the parcel on the counter, answered the clerk’s questions, paid the clerk with a card of some sort.
Now it was her turn.
“Are you sending any flammable liquids?”
No.
“Firearms or ammunition?”
No.
“Drugs?”
No,
He quoted the price. “Insurance?”
No.
Was the clerk looking too intently at her? Did he notice her nipples hard and pointed beneath her tee shirt, whose graphic was that lewd Rolling Stones tongue. Pokies, the English called them, randy sods that they can be.
She paid. In cash. He took the mailer envelope.
She walked back to her car. As she walked, she felt the rub of the seam in her jeans against her, well you know, cunt.
But she did it. Obeyed Him. Mailed her panties to Him. She made sure they were nice. Date Night Panties. Smooth silk with lace on the edges, a seam down the back, defining the globes of her ass, that ass she thought was too big, but the ass He loved. She could even feel the memory of a swat He would give it, just because He could.
And she drove home. Went straight to the bedroom, took off the jeans, and that tee shirt, lay down on the bed. And masturbated.
08 Wednesday Jan 2020
Posted in Uncategorized
Every time I see “The Truth About…” in the subject line of an email, I know it is some sort of con job.
07 Tuesday Jan 2020
Posted in alcoholism, recovery
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I watched a video about a mobile home for sale on a lot somewhere in Alabama or Mississippi or some other el primo mobile home state. For almost an hour I tbought about buying a mobile home. An hour. Almost. It would mean I (we) would have to move out to the country, out there in an area where tornadoes go prowling for innocent trailers. Forget that. Maybe I could write lyrics for country music songs if I lived in one.
I did not swim.
I did take a nap.
I fixed my Waldorf chicken salad for J’s lunch tomorrow.
I did two loads of laundry.
So I feel better. I did stuff that needed to be done that wasn’t particularly grandiose. There is hope.
In an unrelated observation, England’s Ben Stokes is a great batsman.
06 Monday Jan 2020
Posted in alcoholism
AA at noon had “Expectations” for a topic. My whole life is about unmet expectations I place upon my marriage and, most acutely and painfully, the expectations I set for myself. There are things I say I should do and then don’t do, from praying The Rosary to swimming every day, starting that story I have in my head to doing Weight Watchers again.
Reaffirming the tapes of self-hatred I have in my head and keeping my sense of grandiosity inflated seem to be constants in my life. Self-care is hard for me, even after 25 years of sobriety. Those of us who have alcohol and addiction issues learn quickly about low self-esteem and the steps we take to hide it.
I will go swimming today.
I will take a nap.
I will not eat the cookies I bought for J.
Little affirmations. It is the best I can do most days.
Thank you all who read and like and comment on my blog. It means a lot.
05 Sunday Jan 2020
Posted in Uncategorized
We went to Mass Saturday Evening. There were cute children in front of us. I was happy watching the children. I think there was a homily.
So I got to sleep late today. And I did.
I finished a pot of soup. Turned out well. I will share with Dorothy.
And I’m just plain sad. Maybe I will go to bed early.
Sex. Thinking about sex. Expressed my need to J. She acted guilty that she is sexually unavailable.
So anyway. It was a Sunday. A pretty day here.
The pain of it all.
04 Saturday Jan 2020
Posted in Uncategorized
I am lying in bed, coping w low back pain. The Metropolitan Opera broadcast today is Der Rosenkavalier by Richard Strauss, one of my favorites. I’m listening, not caring a whit that my German isn’t good enough to follow the libretto.
Nothing profound folks. Just letting Strauss carry my imagination away.
03 Friday Jan 2020
Posted in Uncategorized
I’m not entering any more passwords
I’m plugging in my rotary dial telephone.
I will no longer shop on Sunday.
I will shine my shoes every day.
That’s it for now,
Dispatches From Dystopia 