I haven’t written in a really long time. I guess you could say I have ‘writers block’. I feel like a half full tomato ketchup bottle with a clogged up neck… there are words waiting to come out, but they’re stuck.
Sometimes I’m lost as to where to begin, and at night I lay wide awake with a running commentary jogging through my mind, thinking about things I can write about and is it funny… is it appropriate?
Since my break up last year I have been lucky enough to have ‘dated’ three new guys; the guy that doesn’t want a relationship, the sex addict and the best friend.
Who knew there were so many different types of men or even ‘dating rituals’ that we go through?
With a lot of my dates I could see that they were using ‘tried and tested’ methods of seduction… and sometimes, I even let them.
Anyway, enough rambling! Topics for the next few months are-
I work to support my unemployed husband of 10 years now,thank you we LoovVve each other sooo much. I also am a laid of Office Manager. i am so tired but i thought I would try a hand at this blog thing since it’s been a while since my first intro blog.
I spend all day in this place with no windows. I cannot even daydream out a window to see the FINALLY spring weather in DETROIT – and feel that feeling i get every spring…GROWTH, CHANGE, MOVING FORWARD. I have to get out of this place, but how? I will become a bum, lose my car, oh man.. what to do. I am going to start going to the gym more I think.
My hubbie of 10 years (even tho we are NOT married) has degenerative disk disorder and is in bed right now trying to sleep. He is in so much pain. I am so proud of him. He has gotten off of Pain Pills FINALLY. They took over our lives, that addiction was worse than the pain he goes through. It dampened our relationship in not only the obvious ways but the not so obvious ways…he couldn’t get an erection!!!!!!! but I love him so much nothing will come between us. we are getting through it and sex is getting better. thank GOD! anyway I’m getting personal enough for the night. These are just a few thoughts.
My sister is over so we are watching the movie The Breakfast Club… love that movie. LOVE LOVE LOVE that movie
Hope you all have a good night and hit me up if your in the detroit area and want to do the 3 day Cancer walk with me in August 13-15!
Edaurdo Jones is the Voice of the Doomed. His stories shock and enthrall. They draw readers into a painful, depraved world they prefer to imagine doesn’t exist. That’s fine. You just think that… If it makes life easier, if it makes you feel safer, then you go ahead and think that. It’s probably best you do.
Part Two of his warped vision, the prophetically titled “Deep Fried Duct Tape and Sushi Knives” follows on from Issue Four’s most beloved entry… A story set in the world’s least favourite city, Detroit, as our drug-dealing sociopath goes on a rampage of revenge.
It is the continuation of this century’s greatest and most repulsive tale of drug-abuse, severe paranoia, carnal lust, and hideous violence.- David S. Wills
You lent me the book you said I was too young to read. In which
A man had an orgasm that killed him. In which a woman ran naked
From the kitchen, across fields, to jump on a horse behind a man.
I did not understand their behaviour, but I understood the desire
To touch – like the women plunged their hands into the dough
And oil, fried their chests in the window-and-doorway sun when
They worked, pressed themselves to tables and walls, ate secretly
After dark the richest cheeses and mushrooms. So I located you.
You see, if I’d touched you, you would have moved. But nose down
In your cardigan, I was in ecstasy. I used an insolent finger on the
Blue grains left behind by your dry-erase pen. Chose a seat – mine,
That to me became your resting place in the 8 you made, and the
Bright, bodied centre of my thousand and one new delusions.
A woman waits for me—she contains all, nothing is lacking,
Yet all were lacking, if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were
lacking.
Sex contains all,
Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations,
Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk;
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals,
All the passions, loves, beauties, delights of the earth,
All the governments, judges, gods, follow’d persons of the earth,
These are contain’d in sex, as parts of itself, and justifications of itself.
Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex,
Without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers.
Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women,
I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those women that are warm-blooded and
sufficient for me;
I see that they understand me, and do not deny me;
I see that they are worthy of me—I will be the robust husband of those women.
They are not one jot less than I am,
They are tann’d in the face by shining suns and blowing winds,
Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,
They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot, run, strike, retreat, advance, resist,
defend themselves,
They are ultimate in their own right—they are calm, clear, well-possess’d of
themselves.
I draw you close to me, you women!
I cannot let you go, I would do you good,
I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our own sake, but for others’ sakes;
Envelop’d in you sleep greater heroes and bards,
They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me.
It is I, you women—I make my way,
I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable—but I love you,
I do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you,
I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for These States—I press with slow
rude muscle,
I brace myself effectually—I listen to no entreaties,
I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated within me.
Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself,
In you I wrap a thousand onward years,
On you I graft the grafts of the best-beloved of me and America,
The drops I distil upon you shall grow fierce and athletic girls, new artists, musicians,
and singers,
The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn,
I shall demand perfect men and women out of my love-spendings,
I shall expect them to interpenetrate with others, as I and you interpenetrate now,
I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of them, as I count on the fruits of
the gushing showers I give now,
I shall look for loving crops from the birth, life, death, immortality, I plant so
lovingly now.
An excerpt from “Desires that you can only tame to know” by:Ivan Donn Carswell
A drama in a field I saw before
while walking near the horses. A filly
frisked and nipped the stallion sore
until his thick, black rod arose
all of a metre long,
and he mounted her and rudely thrust it in
with heaves that drove her flanks apart.
His nostrils bulged and flared
in the frenzy of his ride until she twitched,
disgorged his shaft and cantered off aside.
He followed, softened cock a sway,
flopping side to side, a comic sight,
unfinished in his business, intimidated
by her flight. She lead him far and teased
him every turn, standing quiet to take his shaft
a moment, half a thrust, a touch, and fleeing
as of whim. She milked him dry and raw,
his rod withdrawn, her cleft engorged
and glistening while I watched enthralled.
Her wanton wiles and artist’s touch had stirred me deep,
it was a game she played so well
I only wish her season never ended.
There is faint motive in your hunt of sexual game,
of craving for extension, of seeking out exotic fruit
emboldened by invention. Life’s cup spills diversions
in a bounty that confuses, you savour without style,
relentless urges palter, you are afraid it seems
to counter this inanity in case it proves a dream.
A weakness of your yielding flesh,
the treachery where wit cannot compel
it quiet, clouds the nature of reality, and
drives this single-minded search
where each new conquest proves you right
and fuels desire that swells until it hurts.
We are the watchers stirred to witness sex,
thrilled with sympathetic energy
which quickens in our breath;
but other forces guide your bodily design
and moisten nether lips in unctuous flow
without correction. Your cerebrum in muzzled
with sensations, you are coming with your mind aglow
in riot of desires you can only tame to know;
and in the mellow ebb of truth you find
that passion’s flight has left you, too, behind.
“Erotic Energy” by:Chase Twichell
Don’t tell me we’re not like plants,
sending out a shoot when we need to,
or spikes, poisonous oils, or flowers.
Come to me but only when I say,
that’s how plants announce
the rules of propagation.
Even children know this. You can
see them imitating all the moveswith their bright plastic toys.
So that, years later, at the moment
the girl’s body finally says yes
to the end of childhood,
a green pail with an orange shovel
will appear in her mind like a tropical
blossom she has never seen before.
“Sex” by: Michael Ryan
After the earth finally touches the sun,
and the long explosion stops suddenly
like a heart run down,
the world might seem white and quiet
to something that watches it in the sky at night,
so something might feel small,
and feel nearly human pain.
But it won’t happen again:
the long nights wasted alone, what’s done
in doorways in the dark by the young,
and what could have been for some.
Think of all the lovers and the friends.
Who does not gather his portion of them
to himself. at least in his mind?
Sex eased through everyone,
even when slipping into death
as into a beloved’s skin,
and prying out again to find
the body slumped, muscles slack.
and bones begun their turn to dust.
Then no one minds when one lover
holds another, like an unloaded sack.
But the truth enters at the end of life.
It enters like oxygen into every cell
and the madness it feeds there in some
is only a lucid metaphor
for something long burned to nothing,
like a star.
How do you get under your desire?
How do you peel away each desire
like ponderous clothes, one at a time,
until what’s underneath is known?
We knew genitals as small things
and we were ashamed they led us around,
even if the hill where we’d lie down
was the same hill the universe unfolded upon
all night, as we watched the stars,
when for once our breathing seemed to blend.
Each time, from that sweet pressure
of hands, or the great relief of the mouth,
a person can be led out of himself.
Isn’t it lonely in the body?
The myth says we ooze about as spirits
until there’s a body made to take us,
and only flesh is created by sex.
That’s why we enter sex so relentlessly,
toward the pleasure that comes
when we push down far enough
to nudge the spirit rising to release,
and the pleasure is pleasure of pure spirit,
for a moment all together again.
So sex returns us to beginning, and we moan.
Pure sex becomes specific and concrete
in a caress of breast or slope of waist:
it flies through itself like light, it sails
on nothing like a wing, when someone’s there
to be touched, when there’s nothing wrong.
So the actual is touched in sex,
like a breast through cloth: the actual
rising plump and real, the mind
darting about it like a tongue.
This is where I wanted to be all along:
up in the world, in touch with myself. . .
Sex, invisible priestess of a good God,
I think without you I might just spin off.
I know there’s no keeping you close,
as you flick by underneath a sentence
on a train, or transform the last thought
of an old nun, or withdraw for one moment alone.
Who tells you what to do or ties you down!
I’d give up the rest to suck your dark lips.
I’d give up the rest to fix you exact
in the universe, at the wildest edge
where there’s no such thing as shape.
What a shame I am, if reaching the right person
in a dim room, sex holds itself apart
from us like an angel in an afterlife,
and, with the ideas no one has even dreamed,
it wails its odd music for pure mind.
After there’s nothing,
after the big blow-up of the whole shebang,
what voice from what throat
will tell me who I am? Each throat
on which I would have quietly set my lips
will be ripped like a cheap sleeve
or blown apart like the stopped-up
barrel of a gun. What was inside them
all the time I wanted always
to rest my mouth upon?
I thought most everything
stuck dartlike in the half-dome of my brain,
and hung there like fake stars in a planetarium.
It’s true that things there changed into names,
that even the people I loved were a bunch of signs,
so I felt most often alone.
This is a way to stay alive and nothing to bemoan.
We know the first time we extend an arm:
the body reaches so far for so long.
We grow and love to grow, then stop, then lie down.
I wanted to bear inside me this tender outcome.
I wanted to know if it made sex happen:
does it show up surely in touch and talk?
does it leak from the mind, as heat from the skin?
I wanted my touching intelligent, like a beautiful song.
“I like my body when it is with your” by: e.e. Cummings
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
This is the news, “Women activists present condoms to Philippine bishops.” What’s new? The Philippine Catholic bishops have been waging a bitter war with the government against the use of contraceptives. The Catholic church has never been weakened with its stiff stand against Family Planning and the use of artificial methods of birth control.
The Philippine Catholic Bishops have always been critical of any administration or political parties that support birth control and family planning. In fact presidential aspirants in the like of Senator Noynoy Aquino have been very careful with their stand with regards to population issues. The Bishop can always call on the Catholic faithful some 75 millions out of the 90 to 100 million Filipinos not to vote for any candidate who supports the family planning program of the government. One of the important criteria the good Bishops are looking to any politician vying for an elective position in the government is his policies and stand on the issues of family planning and birth control.
Even if President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo knows the significance of high birth rate in combating poverty problems in the Philippines, having been once a DSWD secretary, she tends to be careful with its population management program so as not to provoke the ire of the already critical Clergies to her administration. The bishops also took advantage of the government soft stand on Family Planning and birth control by calling for a ban on the advertisement of condom however the Arroyo’s administration only shrugged off their demands.
As if trying to maim the bishops stiff opposition on birth control and contraceptives, here comes Health Secretary Esperanza Cabral (former DSWD Secretary) “handing out condoms on February 13 as part of an information campaign on HIV-AIDS.” Her action may not necessarily be the collective stand of the government but nobody in the bureaucracy stood up to sanction her. She had not violated any law, she just exercised her political independence to promote actions responsive for the health and general welfare of the entire population. Yet the Bishops angrily called for her to resign.
But Health Secretary Cabral found allies on women’s health and rights advocate groups like the Party of the Workers who picketed and presented two baskest full of condoms at the headquarters of the Catholic Bishops Conference.
Judy Ann Miranda, the party’s secretary-general asked the bishops to “bless the condoms as a conciliatory gesture to unite for reproductive health and women’s rights” but unfortunately no bishop was around to receive/bless it.
As a response to the women activists action the bishops said, through spokesman Monsignor Pedro Quitorio, that they could not compromise on the church’s opposition to birth control devices. Again, a manifestation of the unwavering Catholic dogma on contraceptive devices which are perceived to tamper with the flow of nature and life. They the bishops however have no specific response on how to promote women’s reproductive health and quality of life.
“If contraceptives are immoral, nothing can change that… not even the vote of the whole country can change that,” Quitorio said. But should he not consider also immoral to see the health of women deteriorate just because couples are denied on the used of contraceptive devices. I think there is nothing more immoral than allowing spread of diseases and overpopulating the limited space we have in this country just because we can not control our rapid population growth.
And going back to politics, is the issue on contraceptives a leverage for a politician to improve his chances of winning in the presidential race? Will the good bishops support senator Manny Villar if he makes a covenant with the Catholic Church in the Philippines never to support legislative measures that advocate the use of contraceptives and other birth control devices? What will happen to the leading presidential candidate on surveys now should he decide to go against the bishops on their resistance to contraceptives and population control programs of the government?
i am so tired but i thought I would try a hand at this blog thing since it’s been a while since my first intro blog.
