2010 Bookshelf

My 2010 Bookshelf

1. How It Ends (Advance Copy from Norton to review) - Chris Impey
2. Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson
3. Eating the Dinosaur - Chuck Klosterman
4. Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
5. Jitterbug Perfume - Tom Robbins
6. Haunted - Chuck Palahniuk
7. Glamorama - Bret Easton Ellis
8. Catch 22 - Jospeh Heller
9. The Naked Lunch - William Burroughs
10. Player Piano - Kurt Vonnegut
11. Stranger Than Fiction - Chuck Palahniuk
12. Less Than Zero - Bret Easton Ellis
13. Pattern Recognition - William Gibson

There's more, but there always is, isn't there?

Also, may be ready to write something substantial...or develop Divining Dada Park, which I have been thinking about for years now.

In The Toilet - New Moon

Um, I literally dropped the New Moon novel in the toilet this morning. And honestly, when I was fishing it out of the bowl, it seemed like it was actually meant to be. I mean, it is kind of a piece of shit. Yet, I am compelled to read it. I may borrow another copy now in order to continue reading it.

I have been keeping my reading of the Twilight Saga hush-hush for a couple of reasons. First, it is kind of lame. Second, I am only reading it cause I want to bitch a blue streak about it once I finish it.

So, Reason 1: Lame. Yeah, this is written for teens. Reason 2: This is for teens and I hate, hate, hate the message it sends to young, teenage women. To become so fucking dependent on a man who treats you so badly. I mean, seriously. To ache for and pine away after Edward Cullen...come on. But, I keep reading it to add the fuel to bitch even more about it, cause I heard it gets worse and worse...he becomes abusive. But hey, she sticks it out, right...true love and devotion and all that.

We shall see...but, now my secret is out...Twilight is a toilet reader.

PS. I am not even going to mention the sparkling part of it...

Update: You know, maybe it landing in the toilet is a sign...maybe I should quit wasting my time and brain on it.

Stranger In My Home

As I listen to the strangely haunting den
Of a whistling train in the distance
In a place where no tracks exist,
I am reminded of endearments
From a man I loved in vain.

The sneer upon my lover's face
Does so much more
Than anyone’s smile ever can.
The touch of his hurtful hand
Feels so much better
Than a loving caress.
The hearth of his malicious home
Offers a safer haven
Than the unknown.

I am his prisoner.
I am my passive warden.
He tortures my soul.
And I condemn myself.

No time will heal my wounds
As long as I carry his burdens.
Happiness teary not.

But if I escape
Will my mind drift away on a billowing cloud
And then disintegrate into the falling rains?
If I cease to be his
Will I not exist?
Or will I finally belong to myself?

Will I try to find higher ground
Before I drown in his sorrows?
Or will I try to chase happiness
In the field of his life
And throw away my tomorrows?

Peggy Mintun, April 1995 (dedicated to LL)
=============================================
This poem is obviously about abuse. All forms: physical, emotional, verbal, psychological. I watched a friend suffer through this and tried as much as I could to help her along the way.

There is a certain amount of impatience that someone on the outside has regarding the person taking the abuse. It is hard to understand how the cycles of abuse can beat a person down and change them, make them not as brave. Often a person on the outside thinks, why don't you just leave him/her? I wanted to talk about that in order to explain the lines:

The sneer upon my lover's face
Does so much more
Than anyone’s smile ever can.
The touch of his hurtful hand
Feels so much better
Than a loving caress.

I'm not saying that a person enjoys that, what I am saying is that may be the perception of someone who does not understand why they stay and take it.

Things did not end well with my friend. She did get out of the relationship, but on her birthday following the divorce her ex decided to take his own life.

A Poem by Stewart Griffin

Oh, Squiggly Line in my eye fluid,
I see you there,
Lurking on the periphery of my vision.
But when I try to look at you,
You scurry away.
Are you shy, Squiggly Line?
Why only when i ignore you,
do you return the center of my eye?
OH Squiggly Line,
It is all right.
You are forgiven.

-by Stewart Griffin

The Games We Play

A poem, or more like a lost love letter, I found ages ago somewhere on the net. It was written by some girl name Justine for a boy named Dave, who, it seems, she secretly loved.

The Games We Play

I love the way you look at me with that curiosity in your eyes.
The way you make my body tingle every time you speak.
Are we playing a game or am I just reading the signs wrong.
Am I being insensitive to your attempts?

Why do I want you so badly, but feel myself pulling back, but it's not
only me, I sense you doing something similar.
Every time I get to close you back away and I can't help wondering if
you are using me.

I don't want to lose the closeness I am so dying to share with you, so
if you think I am a nuisance, let me know.
I want so badly to get to know the inner you to which I am so strongly
drawn to, even if it means sacrificing our love.

Why isn't our friendship growing?
I have tried to come across as being cool - taking our relationship in
my stride, but I'm finding it harder and harder to hide how strongly I
feel for you.

You're acting like a boy that loves a girl, but is it genuine?
I don't know what to do, I am so confused, I don't want to follow the wrong signs.
I can't follow my heart, because I just don't want to lose you.

Yes, I admit it I am in love with you, so in love it frightens me, but
I am on solid ground and I know I will be safe.
So until I figure out how to read you, until I know what lies inside -
inside you, I guess we are going to play this game...

and I wish you would take your turn...

©Justine for Dave

Actually, I may have found it here: Literotica

Death and Christmas

When I was a child, my father spent the months leading up to every Christmas making grave blankets to sell so we could make ends meet. We lived just down the street from the town's cemetery, and my dad was a good friend with the caretaker. Local families bought the grave blankets so they could cover the graves of their dead relatives with flowers and pine needles to bring them warmth for the coming winter. I am not sure I understand this custom fully, or where it originated. It is not available on Wikipedia.
I vividly remember going to some local mom & pop store to buy Styrofoam, fresh pine branches, pinecones, fake flowers, and other supplies to make the grave blankets. My mother spent hours making giant pink, red and white bows that would be the best part of the creation. I always helped Dad place the branches in the Styrofoam rectangles. Sometimes I helped arrange the flowers. I loved helping my dad with these symbolic creations. On occasion he let me make the whole thing...well, the small ones for child graves. I never thought too much at the time that what I created was to cover the grave of a small, dead child.
As a finishing touch my father sprayed the thing (except for the bow) with either smelly gold or silver metallic spray paint, or sometimes, a fake white snow. I was not allowed to stay in the cold basement for this part of the process. The fumes were a little bit too much.
I am not sure why we stopped making grave blankets, for certain. It was either because we moved to a different state, or because of a tragic death in our own family. My memories around the time of the death of my nephew fail me. All I know is there was one Christmas season before we moved and we may have made them. If we did, then I am sure that I made one for Jeff to keep him warm that Christmas.
This may be a Christmas holiday tale, but I think it will always be better suited to tell at Halloween.

So, I plan to create a digital piece of one of these grave blankets to go along with this story...And, by the way this is a true story.

:UPDATE:

A Blanket for Warmth by =peggymintun on deviantART

Senecal's Old One! Short Story

Hello. Wrote this story for Senecal's Old One! on Omnibucket just for fun. Kind of a weird science fiction out of body experience type tale of madness. Check it out and let me know what you think.