The Whore in Me
I can feel the little hairs on the back of neck stand and send shivers down my spine; he is eyeing me, staring me up and down, I am aroused and enticed all from his very presence. The power he has and doesn’t even realize it; the control I lose when tempted by him - every fiber of my being fights to resist his calls to me. I’m able to walk away…this time.
***
Katahdin was my goal this summer and I hurdled each boulder up Abol with enthusiasm and excitement (ok…some sweat too); I’ve worked hard to condition my body for this climb and I’m not stopping here . Battling weight my entire life, a year and a half ago, I stood 5’1 and morbidly obese (or so I was told by my doctor). My squat frame tipped the scales beyond the 230 mark; I was waddling my way into our family tradition of diabetes, high blood pressure and other various weight problems. Change was mandatory.
Yet change was not always easy. Mike walked out of G & M variety with a dozen jelly and creams from Dunkin Donuts, I sighed and asked him, “why do you not want me to lose weight?”
“You will become a whore.” he said and handed me a glazed goodie. I rolled down my window and chucked it out; my will power was not always this strong but his comment had set my mood.
In fact, it inspired me…inspired to waltz into Bangor’s Goodwill to look for some new clothes. It’s taken about 18 months, 48 krav and fit classes, 96 karate lessons, over 260 miles biking Hancock county, multiply hikes through Acadia and endless trips to the YMCA to drop about eighty pounds - going from a tight 24 to a 20 to 16... and now my 16’s were hanging; I needed something new.
Fresh off Katahdin, my legs were looking hot, so I decided to stroll through the skirts. I happened across a little mini skirt; chuckled as I lifted the size 8 and thought this will never cover my booty but, inspired my Mike’s comment, it came with me to the dressing room. I couldn’t believe it, shocked and amazed, I had found me a whore skirt and….damn I looked pretty good in it!
***
Regardless of where I went the thought of him followed me; I tried to tune him out forget about the luscious vision I had of him. I’ve always liked the big, dark, black ones but how could I do this - to my family, to myself; I could not let my desires overtake me. Yes, I wanted him - I wanted to experience all he had to offer; let him sooth me, let him waltz with me, let him fill me…
The agony was almost unbearable, it was a yearning beyond comprehension - like when you’ve held your breath too long or your so afraid - that dizzy feeling that comes is just what I was experiencing. Lightheaded and stirred up, he beckoned to me - I found my moment and drew nearer. But knowing I shouldn’t take any more steps, I paused… my kids will be disappointed, my mother raised me better, Mike, oh god, what would Mike think and me - would I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again if I went through with this…
Catching my hesitation, he intensified his hold on me, probing me from a distance, and I felt weak in the knees; stopping to sit for a moment I glanced down at my exposed thighs - damn Abol sure had worked its’ magic - the definition was clearly lined, even my calves appeared a little more lifted. How could I ruin it all now, I believe in the ‘Law of 3’ and what goes around comes around, karma always finds a way…so how could I risk this…It wasn’t right to cave into the temptation and let him have me and I him; I would be punished.
Penalized how - I’m not sure, maybe my abs would turn back to flab and protrude past my belt loops (muffin tops are in - right?), or my thighs will lose their definition, my chins will return (all three of them) or maybe my extra ass will reform on my lower back…my knees could scream and refuse anymore lunges or side kicks and my progress could halt and revert. It’s hard to say what could really happen but, sadly, the power of belief is strong, and I believe punishment would follow if I was to continue on to him.
However, at the least, I could still be a gracious host and be so kind to escort him out and bid him farewell. I rose from my seated position, adjusted my whore skirt, and moved closer. I could feel the static between us intensify, electric waves encompassed us and closed us in…could I simply say goodbye and part on good terms.
The minutes slowed for me, paused momentarily, as the two critters on my shoulders debated. Ooo, I wanted him, he was fine, mighty fine; just what I liked. He wanted me too, I sensed it. He spoke not a word but I could hear him, he flirted without words - tempted without tongue. Oh god, the lure was too strong, I was being sucked in; why wasn’t my brain working - after all this was only lust - right? I could fight lust. Calm, breath, think of the consequences. Who would forgive me, could I look at anyone in the eyes, would my world stop and the fat drip back on? I really needed to find my strength.
I heard a noise from the side door. Someone was coming. I had to decide. He froze, motionless, like he did not want to be discovered by anyone but me. I tried to act nonchalantly, smothering my desires deep down so not to be too obvious to who was approaching and, damn, wouldn’t it figure, it was Mike.
Mike stepped in and stood still; glanced at me then turned his eyes to him. We formed a triangle the three of us; a scary, odd, love triangle of sorts. Could Mike read me, did he recognize the look in my eyes, what was my body language saying. I needed to make my move; I slowly stepped forward but it was too late - Mike was stepping towards him. Mike gave me an odd sideward’s glance - phew - he had no idea; he had not picked up on the vibes, the looks, my body language…he was none the wiser. But just the same he moved in towards him with his own purpose in mind, faster than I, Mike reached out and grabbed!
As he loosened the grip on his shirt he smoothed it and joked, “Had ya there bud didn’t I?” Mike looked at him, at me and at the plate on the counter between us all. “Looks like one donut is left.” He snatched it up and walked off. My friend stood, paused and looked at me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t take the next step. He said not a word; hung his head and walked out the door.
I was empty; the ache in my stomach hurt beyond belief. Standing alone. I caught my reflection in the window; there I was - me in my whore skirt. My heart longed for love, my belly longed for the donut; my body had not betrayed me but my mind had. At that moment, I realized, I was turning into the very thing Mike had accused me of becoming…
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Week 6 ReWrite
Is Blood Thicker Than Milk?
Today we are not speaking. Yesterday was tipsy. Tomorrow is still not known but a week ago…we were good. It’s like that with us, she and I are not like two peas in a pod but are more like milk and cookies; both are nice on their own but are much better when together. However, this yummy combo was not concocted overnight - it has taken more effort then a fifty year long marriage but every moment has been worth it because a friend like this is that diamond in the rough we all hope to find.
I have five sisters, I love them all; she, however, is my sixth sister, not by blood but by choice. We make a daily conscious effort to make this choice and the feeling you get when you know you are being chosen for this place of honor in someone’s life is an ultimate high. Sixteen years now we’ve been making this choice, for it was sixteen years ago we met.
It was the mid-nineties, I was finishing up high school and I was ready for the world! Of course I wanted it all handed to me on a silver platter, what kid didn‘t. We were a generation that was raised having to start working as soon as we were big enough to lift a blueberry rake (thank you child labor laws for coming into play years later). So by the time I was breaking out of accounting class I figured I knew the ins and outs of earning a buck and, with pyramid schemes flooding Ellsworth, my ex and I thought why earn the buck when you could swindle it; after all that was faster and easier - or so it was thought…
Her ex and my ex worked together, old Mr. Bellows kept them pounding nails and scraping paint but work was scarce and times were tough; everyone one was on the look out for a way to improve their situations. Somehow, our exes pulled together a plan…probably the best (only good) idea they ever had.
I was informed one afternoon that we would be hosting an event, a meet-n-greet of sorts to learn all about a new business opportunity (thoughts of a pyramid scheme came rushing to the forefront) and I was to be prepared for my life to change. Change it did; however, not in the way the exes thought it might. Amway may have been their spiel of choice, thoughts of riches beyond their imaginations, dreams of quick bucks and self employment, busier and richer then Sam Walton; but it was the long haired lady that altered my life. Granted Amway did have that get-rich-quick jingle to it but I discovered something worth more than cash.
She sat in our living room quiet as a mouse. She had long blonde wavy hair, tall, slender, eloquently dressed (like a proper lady on her way to church); she spoke softly, sharing her hopes and dreams in a soft voice just above a whisper. Her and her husband were to be our sponsors, the people just above us, the ones we would have to go-to and I thought… “Oh god! This will never work - her and I are just going to clash!” She was too sweet, too doting on her husband, too kind, too gullible…not at all someone I could mesh with but like my mumma always told me - never judge a book by it’s cover.
***
“You didn’t EVEN give me a CARD for my birthday! You have NOT been around to help me at all. Don’t bother to call me - I won’t answer! I need a BREAK!”
Mouse was gone…
Spoiled milk and burnt cookies!
“Don’t worry, I WON’T call! You NEVER answer when I do anyhow! I wanted to spend time with YOU on your birthday! Next year I will just send you a freaking CARD!”
***
My ex and I would drive to her home in Milbridge once a week to pick up our SA8, and each week we stayed a little longer. They taught us how to play the card game “Hearts” and then they taught us how to keep playing after a few drinks. We bonded over swapping cards beneath the table to beat out our exes’s hands and we bonded while scraping jello and potatoes off her kitchen ceiling because we, once again, managed to lose our hearts to them.
***
“I don’t know what to do. It’s been two days. I miss you.”
Milk.
“I don’t know either but I miss you too. Should I come over?”
And.
“Yes.”
Cookies.
***
Cool Autumn days are made for baking and there is nothing that makes a day better then eating a spoonful of raw cookie dough while splatting your best bud with flour. Her and I don’t often bake together so when we do - it’s therapeutic.
Therapy is often needed in daily lives but few are able to accept the help; I was there when she divorced her husband and her maid-of-honor when she married her current one, she held my hand as I confronted the teacher and principal at the school I removed my son from…we both lost our fathers to cancer, we’ve cut our Christmas trees down together; we are best buds - we’ve learned the secret.
Set the temperature to 350’, mix up the dough - eat it raw - splat flower, and poor yourself a glass of milk because blood is not thicker than milk.
Today we are not speaking. Yesterday was tipsy. Tomorrow is still not known but a week ago…we were good. It’s like that with us, she and I are not like two peas in a pod but are more like milk and cookies; both are nice on their own but are much better when together. However, this yummy combo was not concocted overnight - it has taken more effort then a fifty year long marriage but every moment has been worth it because a friend like this is that diamond in the rough we all hope to find.
I have five sisters, I love them all; she, however, is my sixth sister, not by blood but by choice. We make a daily conscious effort to make this choice and the feeling you get when you know you are being chosen for this place of honor in someone’s life is an ultimate high. Sixteen years now we’ve been making this choice, for it was sixteen years ago we met.
It was the mid-nineties, I was finishing up high school and I was ready for the world! Of course I wanted it all handed to me on a silver platter, what kid didn‘t. We were a generation that was raised having to start working as soon as we were big enough to lift a blueberry rake (thank you child labor laws for coming into play years later). So by the time I was breaking out of accounting class I figured I knew the ins and outs of earning a buck and, with pyramid schemes flooding Ellsworth, my ex and I thought why earn the buck when you could swindle it; after all that was faster and easier - or so it was thought…
Her ex and my ex worked together, old Mr. Bellows kept them pounding nails and scraping paint but work was scarce and times were tough; everyone one was on the look out for a way to improve their situations. Somehow, our exes pulled together a plan…probably the best (only good) idea they ever had.
I was informed one afternoon that we would be hosting an event, a meet-n-greet of sorts to learn all about a new business opportunity (thoughts of a pyramid scheme came rushing to the forefront) and I was to be prepared for my life to change. Change it did; however, not in the way the exes thought it might. Amway may have been their spiel of choice, thoughts of riches beyond their imaginations, dreams of quick bucks and self employment, busier and richer then Sam Walton; but it was the long haired lady that altered my life. Granted Amway did have that get-rich-quick jingle to it but I discovered something worth more than cash.
She sat in our living room quiet as a mouse. She had long blonde wavy hair, tall, slender, eloquently dressed (like a proper lady on her way to church); she spoke softly, sharing her hopes and dreams in a soft voice just above a whisper. Her and her husband were to be our sponsors, the people just above us, the ones we would have to go-to and I thought… “Oh god! This will never work - her and I are just going to clash!” She was too sweet, too doting on her husband, too kind, too gullible…not at all someone I could mesh with but like my mumma always told me - never judge a book by it’s cover.
***
“You didn’t EVEN give me a CARD for my birthday! You have NOT been around to help me at all. Don’t bother to call me - I won’t answer! I need a BREAK!”
Mouse was gone…
Spoiled milk and burnt cookies!
“Don’t worry, I WON’T call! You NEVER answer when I do anyhow! I wanted to spend time with YOU on your birthday! Next year I will just send you a freaking CARD!”
***
My ex and I would drive to her home in Milbridge once a week to pick up our SA8, and each week we stayed a little longer. They taught us how to play the card game “Hearts” and then they taught us how to keep playing after a few drinks. We bonded over swapping cards beneath the table to beat out our exes’s hands and we bonded while scraping jello and potatoes off her kitchen ceiling because we, once again, managed to lose our hearts to them.
***
“I don’t know what to do. It’s been two days. I miss you.”
Milk.
“I don’t know either but I miss you too. Should I come over?”
And.
“Yes.”
Cookies.
***
Cool Autumn days are made for baking and there is nothing that makes a day better then eating a spoonful of raw cookie dough while splatting your best bud with flour. Her and I don’t often bake together so when we do - it’s therapeutic.
Therapy is often needed in daily lives but few are able to accept the help; I was there when she divorced her husband and her maid-of-honor when she married her current one, she held my hand as I confronted the teacher and principal at the school I removed my son from…we both lost our fathers to cancer, we’ve cut our Christmas trees down together; we are best buds - we’ve learned the secret.
Set the temperature to 350’, mix up the dough - eat it raw - splat flower, and poor yourself a glass of milk because blood is not thicker than milk.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Week 9
The Whore in Me
I can feel the little hairs on the back of neck stand and send shivers down my spine; he is eyeing me, staring me up and down, I am aroused and enticed all from his very presence. The power he has and doesn’t even realize it; the control I lose when tempted by him - every fiber of my being fights to resist his calls to me. I’m able to walk away…this time.
***
Katahdin was my goal this summer and I hurdled each boulder up Abol with enthusiasm and excitement (ok…some sweat too); I’ve worked hard to condition my body for this climb and I’m not stopping here . Battling weight my entire life, a year and a half ago, I stood 5’1 and morbidly obese (or so I was told by my doctor). My squat frame tipped the scales beyond the 230 mark; I was waddling my way into our family tradition of diabetes, high blood pressure and other various weight problems. Change was mandatory.
Yet change was not always easy. Mike walked out of G & M variety with a dozen jelly and creams from Dunkin Donuts, I sighed and asked him, “why do you not want me to lose weight?”
“You will become a whore.” he said and handed me a glazed goodie. I rolled down my window and chucked it out; my will power was not always this strong but his comment had set my mood.
In fact, it inspired me…inspired to waltz into Bangor’s Goodwill to look for some new clothes. It’s taken about 18 months, 48 krav and fit classes, 96 karate lessons, over 260 miles biking Hancock county, multiply hikes through Acadia and endless trips to the YMCA to drop about eighty pounds - going from a tight 24 to a 20 to 16... and now my 16’s were hanging; I needed something new.
Fresh off Katahdin, my legs were looking hot, so I decided to stroll through the skirts. I happened across a little mini skirt; chuckled as I lifted the size 8 and thought this will never cover my booty but, inspired my Mike’s comment, it came with me to the dressing room. I couldn’t believe it, shocked and amazed, I had found me a whore skirt and….damn I looked pretty good in it!
***
Regardless of where I went the thought of him followed me; I tried to tune him out forget about the luscious vision I had of him. I’ve always liked the big, dark, black ones but how could I do this - to my family, to myself; I could not let my desires overtake me. Yes, I wanted him - I wanted to experience all he had to offer; let him sooth me, let him waltz with me, let him fill me…
The agony was almost unbearable, it was a yearning beyond comprehension - like when you’ve held your breath too long or your so afraid - that dizzy feeling that comes is just what I was experiencing. Lightheaded and stirred up, he beckoned to me - I found my moment and drew nearer. But knowing I shouldn’t take any more steps, I paused… my kids will be disappointed, my mother raised me better, Mike, oh god, what would Mike think and me - would I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again if I went through with this…
Catching my hesitation, he intensified his hold on me, probing me from a distance, and I felt weak in the knees; stopping to sit for a moment I glanced down at my exposed thighs - damn Abol sure had worked its’ magic - the definition was clearly lined, even my calves appeared a little more lifted. How could I ruin it all now, I believe in the ‘Law of 3’ and what goes around comes around, karma always finds a way…so how could I risk this…It wasn’t right to cave into the temptation and let him have me and I him; I would be punished.
Penalized how - I’m not sure, maybe my abs would turn back to flab and protrude past my belt loops (muffin tops are in - right?), or my thighs will lose their definition, my chins will return (all three of them) or maybe my extra ass will reform on my lower back…my knees could scream and refuse anymore lunges or side kicks and my progress could halt and revert. It’s hard to say what could really happen but, sadly, the power of belief is strong, and I believe punishment would follow if I was to continue on to him.
However, at the least, I could still be a gracious host and be so kind to escort him out and bid him farewell. I rose from my seated position, adjusted my whore skirt, and moved closer. I could feel the static between us intensify, electric waves encompassed us and closed us in…could I simply say goodbye and part on good terms.
The minutes slowed for me, paused momentarily, as the two critters on my shoulders debated. Ooo, I wanted him, he was fine, mighty fine; just what I liked. He wanted me too, I sensed it. He spoke not a word but I could hear him, he flirted without words - tempted without tongue. Oh god, the lure was too strong, I was being sucked in; why wasn’t my brain working - after all this was only lust - right? I could fight lust. Calm, breath, think of the consequences. Who would forgive me, could I look at anyone in the eyes, would my world stop and the fat drip back on? I really needed to find my strength.
I heard a noise from the side door. Someone was coming. I had to decide. He froze, motionless, like he did not want to be discovered by anyone but me. I tried to act nonchalantly, smothering my desires deep down so not to be too obvious to who was approaching and, damn, wouldn’t it figure, it was Mike.
Mike stepped in and stood still; glanced at me then turned his eyes to him. We formed a triangle the three of us; a scary, odd, love triangle of sorts. Could Mike read me, did he recognize the look in my eyes, what was my body language saying. I needed to make my move; I slowly stepped forward but it was too late - Mike was stepping towards him. Mike gave me an odd sideward’s glance - phew - he had no idea; he had not picked up on the vibes, the looks, my body language…he was none the wiser. But just the same he moved in towards him with his own purpose in mind, faster than I, Mike reached out and grabbed him!
Four mouthwatering bites later and it was done, he was gone, my big black, chocolate twisted donut stick was gone. Just like that. I felt empty, alone, and betrayed; I turned to return to the land of the living and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window…my legs looked hot, my tummy fell a bit flatter and my size 8 whore skirt was hanging a little loose…Life was good again.
I can feel the little hairs on the back of neck stand and send shivers down my spine; he is eyeing me, staring me up and down, I am aroused and enticed all from his very presence. The power he has and doesn’t even realize it; the control I lose when tempted by him - every fiber of my being fights to resist his calls to me. I’m able to walk away…this time.
***
Katahdin was my goal this summer and I hurdled each boulder up Abol with enthusiasm and excitement (ok…some sweat too); I’ve worked hard to condition my body for this climb and I’m not stopping here . Battling weight my entire life, a year and a half ago, I stood 5’1 and morbidly obese (or so I was told by my doctor). My squat frame tipped the scales beyond the 230 mark; I was waddling my way into our family tradition of diabetes, high blood pressure and other various weight problems. Change was mandatory.
Yet change was not always easy. Mike walked out of G & M variety with a dozen jelly and creams from Dunkin Donuts, I sighed and asked him, “why do you not want me to lose weight?”
“You will become a whore.” he said and handed me a glazed goodie. I rolled down my window and chucked it out; my will power was not always this strong but his comment had set my mood.
In fact, it inspired me…inspired to waltz into Bangor’s Goodwill to look for some new clothes. It’s taken about 18 months, 48 krav and fit classes, 96 karate lessons, over 260 miles biking Hancock county, multiply hikes through Acadia and endless trips to the YMCA to drop about eighty pounds - going from a tight 24 to a 20 to 16... and now my 16’s were hanging; I needed something new.
Fresh off Katahdin, my legs were looking hot, so I decided to stroll through the skirts. I happened across a little mini skirt; chuckled as I lifted the size 8 and thought this will never cover my booty but, inspired my Mike’s comment, it came with me to the dressing room. I couldn’t believe it, shocked and amazed, I had found me a whore skirt and….damn I looked pretty good in it!
***
Regardless of where I went the thought of him followed me; I tried to tune him out forget about the luscious vision I had of him. I’ve always liked the big, dark, black ones but how could I do this - to my family, to myself; I could not let my desires overtake me. Yes, I wanted him - I wanted to experience all he had to offer; let him sooth me, let him waltz with me, let him fill me…
The agony was almost unbearable, it was a yearning beyond comprehension - like when you’ve held your breath too long or your so afraid - that dizzy feeling that comes is just what I was experiencing. Lightheaded and stirred up, he beckoned to me - I found my moment and drew nearer. But knowing I shouldn’t take any more steps, I paused… my kids will be disappointed, my mother raised me better, Mike, oh god, what would Mike think and me - would I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again if I went through with this…
Catching my hesitation, he intensified his hold on me, probing me from a distance, and I felt weak in the knees; stopping to sit for a moment I glanced down at my exposed thighs - damn Abol sure had worked its’ magic - the definition was clearly lined, even my calves appeared a little more lifted. How could I ruin it all now, I believe in the ‘Law of 3’ and what goes around comes around, karma always finds a way…so how could I risk this…It wasn’t right to cave into the temptation and let him have me and I him; I would be punished.
Penalized how - I’m not sure, maybe my abs would turn back to flab and protrude past my belt loops (muffin tops are in - right?), or my thighs will lose their definition, my chins will return (all three of them) or maybe my extra ass will reform on my lower back…my knees could scream and refuse anymore lunges or side kicks and my progress could halt and revert. It’s hard to say what could really happen but, sadly, the power of belief is strong, and I believe punishment would follow if I was to continue on to him.
However, at the least, I could still be a gracious host and be so kind to escort him out and bid him farewell. I rose from my seated position, adjusted my whore skirt, and moved closer. I could feel the static between us intensify, electric waves encompassed us and closed us in…could I simply say goodbye and part on good terms.
The minutes slowed for me, paused momentarily, as the two critters on my shoulders debated. Ooo, I wanted him, he was fine, mighty fine; just what I liked. He wanted me too, I sensed it. He spoke not a word but I could hear him, he flirted without words - tempted without tongue. Oh god, the lure was too strong, I was being sucked in; why wasn’t my brain working - after all this was only lust - right? I could fight lust. Calm, breath, think of the consequences. Who would forgive me, could I look at anyone in the eyes, would my world stop and the fat drip back on? I really needed to find my strength.
I heard a noise from the side door. Someone was coming. I had to decide. He froze, motionless, like he did not want to be discovered by anyone but me. I tried to act nonchalantly, smothering my desires deep down so not to be too obvious to who was approaching and, damn, wouldn’t it figure, it was Mike.
Mike stepped in and stood still; glanced at me then turned his eyes to him. We formed a triangle the three of us; a scary, odd, love triangle of sorts. Could Mike read me, did he recognize the look in my eyes, what was my body language saying. I needed to make my move; I slowly stepped forward but it was too late - Mike was stepping towards him. Mike gave me an odd sideward’s glance - phew - he had no idea; he had not picked up on the vibes, the looks, my body language…he was none the wiser. But just the same he moved in towards him with his own purpose in mind, faster than I, Mike reached out and grabbed him!
Four mouthwatering bites later and it was done, he was gone, my big black, chocolate twisted donut stick was gone. Just like that. I felt empty, alone, and betrayed; I turned to return to the land of the living and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window…my legs looked hot, my tummy fell a bit flatter and my size 8 whore skirt was hanging a little loose…Life was good again.
Week 8
The Union
Welcome friend. Thank you for allowing me into your home but are you sure you want me here? I am like the plague that wipes out the village in the night, the storms that sweeps you out to sea; I will crawl into your mind and fester into the darkest places, awakening them. Oh yes, my friend, be afraid.
For who is that dares creep into the darkest basement, gradually slinking down the stairs, spider webs clinging to their face; is it you that dares this descent? Do you openly enter the mind of Lucifer, peeling back the rotting flesh and placing your face close enough for your nostrils to pick up the odor seeping from the decomposing souls of the fools before you. It is so. I see you now, you know my will and you fear not the line I have drawn.
You hesitate not my brown-eyed friend, though our lives teeter at their end; you think not of ‘morrow but of this day at noon. Fairly warned, you step to the altar of your own free will; taking my hand in yours, you exchange the vows of eternity. Onlookers, naysayer’s, those unable to bare false witness to this bond of which we make will rise to this festive occasion and weep for us, and weep with us; for you, my friend, on this day shall weep. The deal is sealed with the coming together of our chapped flesh. Then shall I bore my claws into your heaving chest and clasp them around your pulsating heart. The mere thought of the beat intoxicates me, gives breath to my lungs, adds life to my malnourished soul; and you shall fill the core of me with your essence as we solidify our unity. In the name of all that is holly and righteous it shall be done.
And so it is.
My person thanks you, my brave, naive friend; for into your home, of no walls, I shall stay. Mortality is but only to our shells; our innards will putrefy ceaselessly, in no way departing fully - instead, entangling eternally… We have crossed the threshold of matrimony; you to I and I to you, we are bonded.
What! Do you back step now? Now that it is done, do you tear the mask from your saccharine face to reveal the demon beneath! I forewarned you fairly, justly, honestly! Where was the returned courtesy? Does thou think I shall fall back! Tripped by your hoof, hammered by your rod, entrapped by your steel limbs; you were not afraid thus I shall fear you not! For how can it be thought that your mind will out demonize mine, to the gambler you have asked to play the game and like a fool you will fall.
You do not believe? You scoff at my will, my determination, my survival. Does thou here the calling of an apocalypse, did our union draw it near? Do we have not but an hour in the clock of life; let us draw our breath on this second and reveal our weapons to one another - let us hide no more. Draw your sword my friend and pierce the lungs to which you have given breath, raise your shield and protect your own; for when I strike, it shall be but once.
A fool perhaps am I for such blasphemy, yet we shall continue on. We made the pact, one hundred years behind us and forever more to go. Our mob draws near, what their God has joined together - no man shall tear apart, thus the time has come. You do not pull back so I shall meet you head on. It was your dream in which I cowered before you, it is in your awaken night terror that I do not. The time to fear is not far from us now, embrace and know this horror and halt… or rush blindly upon the blade. Soon the torches will be lit, my friend, for in your home - of which is your mind - you can not escape me or draw me out. It is there that I shall be… forevermore.
Welcome friend. Thank you for allowing me into your home but are you sure you want me here? I am like the plague that wipes out the village in the night, the storms that sweeps you out to sea; I will crawl into your mind and fester into the darkest places, awakening them. Oh yes, my friend, be afraid.
For who is that dares creep into the darkest basement, gradually slinking down the stairs, spider webs clinging to their face; is it you that dares this descent? Do you openly enter the mind of Lucifer, peeling back the rotting flesh and placing your face close enough for your nostrils to pick up the odor seeping from the decomposing souls of the fools before you. It is so. I see you now, you know my will and you fear not the line I have drawn.
You hesitate not my brown-eyed friend, though our lives teeter at their end; you think not of ‘morrow but of this day at noon. Fairly warned, you step to the altar of your own free will; taking my hand in yours, you exchange the vows of eternity. Onlookers, naysayer’s, those unable to bare false witness to this bond of which we make will rise to this festive occasion and weep for us, and weep with us; for you, my friend, on this day shall weep. The deal is sealed with the coming together of our chapped flesh. Then shall I bore my claws into your heaving chest and clasp them around your pulsating heart. The mere thought of the beat intoxicates me, gives breath to my lungs, adds life to my malnourished soul; and you shall fill the core of me with your essence as we solidify our unity. In the name of all that is holly and righteous it shall be done.
And so it is.
My person thanks you, my brave, naive friend; for into your home, of no walls, I shall stay. Mortality is but only to our shells; our innards will putrefy ceaselessly, in no way departing fully - instead, entangling eternally… We have crossed the threshold of matrimony; you to I and I to you, we are bonded.
What! Do you back step now? Now that it is done, do you tear the mask from your saccharine face to reveal the demon beneath! I forewarned you fairly, justly, honestly! Where was the returned courtesy? Does thou think I shall fall back! Tripped by your hoof, hammered by your rod, entrapped by your steel limbs; you were not afraid thus I shall fear you not! For how can it be thought that your mind will out demonize mine, to the gambler you have asked to play the game and like a fool you will fall.
You do not believe? You scoff at my will, my determination, my survival. Does thou here the calling of an apocalypse, did our union draw it near? Do we have not but an hour in the clock of life; let us draw our breath on this second and reveal our weapons to one another - let us hide no more. Draw your sword my friend and pierce the lungs to which you have given breath, raise your shield and protect your own; for when I strike, it shall be but once.
A fool perhaps am I for such blasphemy, yet we shall continue on. We made the pact, one hundred years behind us and forever more to go. Our mob draws near, what their God has joined together - no man shall tear apart, thus the time has come. You do not pull back so I shall meet you head on. It was your dream in which I cowered before you, it is in your awaken night terror that I do not. The time to fear is not far from us now, embrace and know this horror and halt… or rush blindly upon the blade. Soon the torches will be lit, my friend, for in your home - of which is your mind - you can not escape me or draw me out. It is there that I shall be… forevermore.
Week 7
When the Birds Stop Singing
Two little zebra finches perched in their pen atop of my piano; they chittered and chattered and sung to their little hearts content. I’d relax into the silence of the night and allow them to invade my thoughts - bringing natural music into my world.
***
At Mary’s party, Lisa and I tied our ankles together and walked around the house like Siamese twins joined at the hip; we danced, chatted and sung our hearts out. She sang mostly country; Shania Twain, Reba, and Susie Bogus. I believe she would have enjoyed the Dixie Chicks - especially, “Goodbye Earl”.
***
Lisa Jean Lounder, born and raised in Hancock, Maine. November 1976.
***
Thirteen going on twenty-one, playing happily in her little pen, we stayed up late making prank calls and playing “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em” till her mother barged into her bedroom, groggy and rubbing her eyes saying, “Cut that racket out!”. We apologized until her mom closed the door, burst into laughter and after three more prank calls to our Freshman gym teacher we drifted off into dream land (with visions of Sophomore boys dancing in our heads).
***
An overdose of pills in fifth grade, slashed wrists in seventh grade, alcohol poisoning her Freshman year, raped her Sophomore year, overdose of prescription meds Junior year and a head on collision with a telephone pole her Senior year; Lisa was lucky to be alive. I sat with her on the floor of the trailer her and Jeff were renting - their very first place on their own after moving out of their parent’s houses. Positioned in my lap, I wrapped my legs over hers around her waste and my arms around her shoulders holding her the best I could; trying like crazy to soothe her as she spazzed out. She thrashed, kicked, dug, head butted, and attempted ever possible maneuver she could to escape my grasp - the loaded gun I knocked from her when I walked through the door was only a few feet in front of us. We started to sing together…like the little birds who sing sweet lullabies and she calmed.
***
Standing 5’4, weight fluctuating from 98 to 140, hair color and style changing as often as the seasons, she stood looking in the steamed mirror. A quick swipe of her hand revealed her reflection; wearing a baby blue polka dotted bra and her Pizza hut workpants she burst into tears and smashed her palm against the mirror, screaming, “I’ll never look right! Never!” Reacting like a little Finch caged, thrashing her wings against the little bars; she freaked out. Running late for work, less then 10 minutes to get there, she tore off her clothes and jumped in the shower again; I stood frozen in the doorway. Fifteen minutes and a loud thud later; I turned off the scorching shower, picked her up out of the tub and carried her to her bedroom and made the familiar call into her workplace.
***
She had every Cabbage Patch doll there was; her father made sure of it. They were lined all around her bedroom, still in their boxes. Her closet was full of clothes that still had tags on them, that she would donate to kids at school that did not have much. When her father walked into the room, she would say, “daddy” and he would just smile at her and ask us how we were doing. If she could have flown to his shoulder and perched there she would have accepted any cracker he offered - tweeting till twilight.
***
A little spitfire, she once attacked a man a foot and a half taller then her to defend her friend; knocked him backwards right into a wood stove! People learned not to poke their fingers in her cage, she wasn’t afraid to peck. She jumped out of a moving car to step between her best bud and a baseball bat, and she sat swinging on a swing for countless hours with her little brother who was not yet cancer free.
***
Lisa Jean Lounder. Survived by her two parents, her two brothers, her boyfriend, and a friend who will never forget her; drove into the sea at Lamoine Beach on a cold evening in October, 1998. Her car was fifteen feet off the shore - her body floated from Lamoine to Hulls Cove where it was found the following day…the day the birds stopped singing.
Two little zebra finches perched in their pen atop of my piano; they chittered and chattered and sung to their little hearts content. I’d relax into the silence of the night and allow them to invade my thoughts - bringing natural music into my world.
***
At Mary’s party, Lisa and I tied our ankles together and walked around the house like Siamese twins joined at the hip; we danced, chatted and sung our hearts out. She sang mostly country; Shania Twain, Reba, and Susie Bogus. I believe she would have enjoyed the Dixie Chicks - especially, “Goodbye Earl”.
***
Lisa Jean Lounder, born and raised in Hancock, Maine. November 1976.
***
Thirteen going on twenty-one, playing happily in her little pen, we stayed up late making prank calls and playing “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em” till her mother barged into her bedroom, groggy and rubbing her eyes saying, “Cut that racket out!”. We apologized until her mom closed the door, burst into laughter and after three more prank calls to our Freshman gym teacher we drifted off into dream land (with visions of Sophomore boys dancing in our heads).
***
An overdose of pills in fifth grade, slashed wrists in seventh grade, alcohol poisoning her Freshman year, raped her Sophomore year, overdose of prescription meds Junior year and a head on collision with a telephone pole her Senior year; Lisa was lucky to be alive. I sat with her on the floor of the trailer her and Jeff were renting - their very first place on their own after moving out of their parent’s houses. Positioned in my lap, I wrapped my legs over hers around her waste and my arms around her shoulders holding her the best I could; trying like crazy to soothe her as she spazzed out. She thrashed, kicked, dug, head butted, and attempted ever possible maneuver she could to escape my grasp - the loaded gun I knocked from her when I walked through the door was only a few feet in front of us. We started to sing together…like the little birds who sing sweet lullabies and she calmed.
***
Standing 5’4, weight fluctuating from 98 to 140, hair color and style changing as often as the seasons, she stood looking in the steamed mirror. A quick swipe of her hand revealed her reflection; wearing a baby blue polka dotted bra and her Pizza hut workpants she burst into tears and smashed her palm against the mirror, screaming, “I’ll never look right! Never!” Reacting like a little Finch caged, thrashing her wings against the little bars; she freaked out. Running late for work, less then 10 minutes to get there, she tore off her clothes and jumped in the shower again; I stood frozen in the doorway. Fifteen minutes and a loud thud later; I turned off the scorching shower, picked her up out of the tub and carried her to her bedroom and made the familiar call into her workplace.
***
She had every Cabbage Patch doll there was; her father made sure of it. They were lined all around her bedroom, still in their boxes. Her closet was full of clothes that still had tags on them, that she would donate to kids at school that did not have much. When her father walked into the room, she would say, “daddy” and he would just smile at her and ask us how we were doing. If she could have flown to his shoulder and perched there she would have accepted any cracker he offered - tweeting till twilight.
***
A little spitfire, she once attacked a man a foot and a half taller then her to defend her friend; knocked him backwards right into a wood stove! People learned not to poke their fingers in her cage, she wasn’t afraid to peck. She jumped out of a moving car to step between her best bud and a baseball bat, and she sat swinging on a swing for countless hours with her little brother who was not yet cancer free.
***
Lisa Jean Lounder. Survived by her two parents, her two brothers, her boyfriend, and a friend who will never forget her; drove into the sea at Lamoine Beach on a cold evening in October, 1998. Her car was fifteen feet off the shore - her body floated from Lamoine to Hulls Cove where it was found the following day…the day the birds stopped singing.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Week 6
Is Blood Thicker Than Water?
Today we are not speaking. Yesterday was tipsy. Tomorrow is still not known but a week ago…we were good. It’s like that with us, she and I are not like two peas in a pod but are more like milk and cookies; both are nice on their own but are much better when together. However, this yummy combo was not concocted overnight - it has taken more effort then a fifty year long marriage but every moment has been worth it because a friend like this is that diamond in the rough we all hope to find.
I have five sisters, I love them all; she, however, is my sixth sister, not by blood but by choice. We make a daily conscious effort to make this choice and the feeling you get when you know you are being chosen for this place of honor in someone’s life is an ultimate high. Sixteen years now we’ve been making this choice, for it was sixteen years ago we met.
It was the mid-nineties, I was finishing up high school and I was ready for the world! Of course I wanted it all handed to me on a silver platter, what kid didn‘t. We were a generation that was raised having to start working as soon as we were big enough to lift a blueberry rake (thank you child labor laws for coming into play years later). So by the time I was breaking out of accounting class I figured I knew the ins and outs of earning a buck and, with pyramid schemes flooding Ellsworth, my ex and I thought why earn the buck when you could swindle it; after all that was faster and easier - or so it was thought…
Her ex and my ex worked together, old Mr. Bellows kept them pounding nails and scraping paint but work was scarce and times were tough; everyone one was on the look out for a way to improve their situations. Somehow, our exes pulled together a plan…probably the best (only good) idea they ever had.
I was informed one afternoon that we would be hosting an event, a meet-n-greet of sorts to learn all about a new business opportunity (thoughts of a pyramid scheme came rushing to the forefront) and I was to be prepared for my life to change. Change it did; however, not in the way the exes thought it might. Amway may have been their spiel of choice, thoughts of riches beyond their imaginations, dreams of quick bucks and self employment, busier and richer then Sam Walton; but it was the long haired lady that altered my life. Granted Amway did have that get-rich-quick jingle to it but I discovered something worth more than cash.
She sat in our living room quiet as a mouse. She had long blonde wavy hair, tall, slender, eloquently dressed (like a proper lady on her way to church); she spoke softly, sharing her hopes and dreams in a soft voice just above a whisper. Her and her husband were to be our sponsors, the people just above us, the ones we would have to go-to and I thought… “Oh god! This will never work - her and I are just going to clash!” She was too sweet, too doting on her husband, too kind, too gullible…not at all someone I could mesh with but like my mumma always told me - never judge a book by it’s cover.
And boy o’ boy was mumma right about that! Wasn’t too long into this ‘working’ relationship that her and I got to know one another…..like I said, milk and cookies. Now I had friends prior to her; first male friend from Kindergarten who stomped on my toes to get ahead in the water fountain line , my first female friend who lost the silver glove to my Michal Jackson Barbie doll, and others along the way…but she tops them all.
We are far from perfect; we can not always be there for each other the way the other one thinks is best. I remember when I was getting married she was no where in my life to be found, nor was she when I was pregnant with my first child; it was hard and it hurt, even put a bit of a strain on us for awhile but we talked and worked it out. I, in turn, have not always been there for her; sadly there have been times that I have let her down too. It’s hard when that happens because it hurts worse then anything I can describe. The very thought of losing one another aches more then all the toothaches in my life combined, stings more then the time I stepped on the bee jumping off our old tire swing, throbs more than the severe migraines I’ve been enduring do to high amounts of stress and crippling back pains….I believe the point is being made that it would really simply bite (worse than nursing babies with first teeth).
But the good out weighs the bad; there have been more times then I can count or even recall that we have been there for one another. I believe we are like Thelma and Louise, Selma and Patty, Betty White and the rest of the Golden Girls all balled into two; we would go to the ends of the earth for one another. The tails I could tell of bail outs from jail or pick-ups after being drugged by a coworker; no questions asked, no judgments made - we were just there - best friends.
How does a quiet mouse evolve into the bestest friend of all times…well, that road is different for everyone and a lot will depend if you are traveling on that same road or not. Amway did more then sell their SA8 laundry detergent that year… At one point, we all took a business trip to Rhode Island, we read the required reading on the way down, “Chicken Soup for the Soul”, shacked up with their sponsors and attended the big Amway conference; boy did that company know how to put on an event. Ricky Van Shelton blared across the arena and into the night; when my new pal smashed her head on the cement ceiling of the parking garage from being excited and overjoyed by the times we were sharing together and just laughed it off…I knew it was friendship at first smash - the mouse was knocked clear out and I knew from that moment we were kindred spirits - her and I…milk and cookies.
Now, I’ve always heard blood is thicker than water…. but is blood thicker than milk?
Today we are not speaking. Yesterday was tipsy. Tomorrow is still not known but a week ago…we were good. It’s like that with us, she and I are not like two peas in a pod but are more like milk and cookies; both are nice on their own but are much better when together. However, this yummy combo was not concocted overnight - it has taken more effort then a fifty year long marriage but every moment has been worth it because a friend like this is that diamond in the rough we all hope to find.
I have five sisters, I love them all; she, however, is my sixth sister, not by blood but by choice. We make a daily conscious effort to make this choice and the feeling you get when you know you are being chosen for this place of honor in someone’s life is an ultimate high. Sixteen years now we’ve been making this choice, for it was sixteen years ago we met.
It was the mid-nineties, I was finishing up high school and I was ready for the world! Of course I wanted it all handed to me on a silver platter, what kid didn‘t. We were a generation that was raised having to start working as soon as we were big enough to lift a blueberry rake (thank you child labor laws for coming into play years later). So by the time I was breaking out of accounting class I figured I knew the ins and outs of earning a buck and, with pyramid schemes flooding Ellsworth, my ex and I thought why earn the buck when you could swindle it; after all that was faster and easier - or so it was thought…
Her ex and my ex worked together, old Mr. Bellows kept them pounding nails and scraping paint but work was scarce and times were tough; everyone one was on the look out for a way to improve their situations. Somehow, our exes pulled together a plan…probably the best (only good) idea they ever had.
I was informed one afternoon that we would be hosting an event, a meet-n-greet of sorts to learn all about a new business opportunity (thoughts of a pyramid scheme came rushing to the forefront) and I was to be prepared for my life to change. Change it did; however, not in the way the exes thought it might. Amway may have been their spiel of choice, thoughts of riches beyond their imaginations, dreams of quick bucks and self employment, busier and richer then Sam Walton; but it was the long haired lady that altered my life. Granted Amway did have that get-rich-quick jingle to it but I discovered something worth more than cash.
She sat in our living room quiet as a mouse. She had long blonde wavy hair, tall, slender, eloquently dressed (like a proper lady on her way to church); she spoke softly, sharing her hopes and dreams in a soft voice just above a whisper. Her and her husband were to be our sponsors, the people just above us, the ones we would have to go-to and I thought… “Oh god! This will never work - her and I are just going to clash!” She was too sweet, too doting on her husband, too kind, too gullible…not at all someone I could mesh with but like my mumma always told me - never judge a book by it’s cover.
And boy o’ boy was mumma right about that! Wasn’t too long into this ‘working’ relationship that her and I got to know one another…..like I said, milk and cookies. Now I had friends prior to her; first male friend from Kindergarten who stomped on my toes to get ahead in the water fountain line , my first female friend who lost the silver glove to my Michal Jackson Barbie doll, and others along the way…but she tops them all.
We are far from perfect; we can not always be there for each other the way the other one thinks is best. I remember when I was getting married she was no where in my life to be found, nor was she when I was pregnant with my first child; it was hard and it hurt, even put a bit of a strain on us for awhile but we talked and worked it out. I, in turn, have not always been there for her; sadly there have been times that I have let her down too. It’s hard when that happens because it hurts worse then anything I can describe. The very thought of losing one another aches more then all the toothaches in my life combined, stings more then the time I stepped on the bee jumping off our old tire swing, throbs more than the severe migraines I’ve been enduring do to high amounts of stress and crippling back pains….I believe the point is being made that it would really simply bite (worse than nursing babies with first teeth).
But the good out weighs the bad; there have been more times then I can count or even recall that we have been there for one another. I believe we are like Thelma and Louise, Selma and Patty, Betty White and the rest of the Golden Girls all balled into two; we would go to the ends of the earth for one another. The tails I could tell of bail outs from jail or pick-ups after being drugged by a coworker; no questions asked, no judgments made - we were just there - best friends.
How does a quiet mouse evolve into the bestest friend of all times…well, that road is different for everyone and a lot will depend if you are traveling on that same road or not. Amway did more then sell their SA8 laundry detergent that year… At one point, we all took a business trip to Rhode Island, we read the required reading on the way down, “Chicken Soup for the Soul”, shacked up with their sponsors and attended the big Amway conference; boy did that company know how to put on an event. Ricky Van Shelton blared across the arena and into the night; when my new pal smashed her head on the cement ceiling of the parking garage from being excited and overjoyed by the times we were sharing together and just laughed it off…I knew it was friendship at first smash - the mouse was knocked clear out and I knew from that moment we were kindred spirits - her and I…milk and cookies.
Now, I’ve always heard blood is thicker than water…. but is blood thicker than milk?
Not for class. Just for me.
There’s two of you but you are both the same
Called different things but go by one name
Stories you told seemed honest and true
I was a fool to buy into them and to believe either of you
One bites the heart, the other the mind;
Together blood is shed and pain is left behind
You won’t read this, you don’t care to see
The damage your lies do and the pain you cause me
You may look, you may scan but it will be done in vain
Because only seeing what you want, there is nothing to gain
Twisting this up to make yourself feel all right
Behind closed doors and into the night
No one will see, the smile stays on
But the pain that is caused is still very wrong
Wanting something more searching everywhere
Pause and look, maybe what you want is already there
Only you can stop it and clear up the haze
Hoping and praying this is only a faze
When a soul sheds its’ shell, only the body sticks around
You will miss what you had, it’ll be no where to be found
Deceased or thriving, I’ll find the path
With you, without you; you do the math
Two is two, one is one;
Bottom line is… I’m simply done.
Called different things but go by one name
Stories you told seemed honest and true
I was a fool to buy into them and to believe either of you
One bites the heart, the other the mind;
Together blood is shed and pain is left behind
You won’t read this, you don’t care to see
The damage your lies do and the pain you cause me
You may look, you may scan but it will be done in vain
Because only seeing what you want, there is nothing to gain
Twisting this up to make yourself feel all right
Behind closed doors and into the night
No one will see, the smile stays on
But the pain that is caused is still very wrong
Wanting something more searching everywhere
Pause and look, maybe what you want is already there
Only you can stop it and clear up the haze
Hoping and praying this is only a faze
When a soul sheds its’ shell, only the body sticks around
You will miss what you had, it’ll be no where to be found
Deceased or thriving, I’ll find the path
With you, without you; you do the math
Two is two, one is one;
Bottom line is… I’m simply done.
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