Archive for the ‘literature’ Category


These words came to me last night and I am sharing them with you. May they have meaning in your life!

When the lighted path grows dim
hold a candle against the darkness
then speak my name
I will be there for you

When the flame flickers and dies
feel your way against the darkness
then call out my name
I will be there for you

When you can not feel your way
remember the lighted path
and whisper my name
I will be there for you

When you can not remember your way
imagine the path lighted before you
say my name
and I will be there for you
I will be there for you like a foothold
Even in your blackest night
Like a hand to shake you
to awaken you
for even when you slumber
I am here

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Kentucky shurbs . . .  dark spots littering the field, their green matched the green in my shirt. And I wonder, always wonder about the beauty of this land, even in it’s desolation, indeed sometimes because of it. What isn’t there leaves room for the imagination. Plus the land may let you down, but you never take it personal, you know? When crops fail you don’t think the land is trying to hurt you, you just think it is what it is, or you try blaming it on God or the universe or something, but you know that can’t really be true. And just by looking into a field I figured out that man invented God to have someone to blame shit on.

Hmmm . . .

Man invented God so he could have someone to blame shit on. It’s a theory I came up with on the first day of the first week I spent with the man I thought I loved, on a vacation that would end our relationship. But, it being the first day I was still in creative spirits. I was still in a place where the freedom to roam that I desperately sought was bestowed upon me by him through the company he worked for, and while I don’t think I ever really admitted it to him I realized a lot about myself and the world and travel, well motion, while I was stuck in a Hum-V with him, driving and driving for miles. I realized too that he was simply a catalyst for my transformation the same way one needs to strike flint or tinder or whatever the fuck. I mean he was like an ingredient that was a requirement.

Now, none of this can be seen while you are in the midst of it. It can only be observed afterward. After the pain wears off. After you realize it was one tiny stop over on the map of your destiny. A tiny spot that seemed really big and all consuming at the moment and the deal is, it felt like love. I mean true love, deep love, love without limits, but that is fucking bullshit isn’t it? Everything has limits, conditions, restrictions, except knowledge, except learning, except passion and there is love in all of these but it comes from within it is not gotten from someone but it can be bestowed upon them, it is a gift to be given an received and there are limits, self imposed, but limits just the same.

But what I learned about love didn’t/wasn’t realized on the trip necessarily, but some months after during a dormant period and alone time that for me was so painful to speak of it hurts right down the middle like a hole in my gut. He would never understand this because he didn’t have too, has never wanted to, at least not yet. And that makes me happy because I would not wish this feeling upon anyone, well that’s a lie, but I’ll get back to that another time. See the thing is he held pain too, experienced pain too and kind of talked about it, but not really. Like I’m a big man who won’t cry so I’ll just bitch about every fucking thing and wait for someone to see it’s pain or there is pain and maybe they will make it go away. Yup he was that guy, the one who was constantly looking to make the pain go away through others, but who would never actually open up for the healing, cuz when it got too deep he would just move on to the next and the next, a surface dweller. And the reason I know this is because I was that exact same way too and so I was attracted to him like a magnet, a fucking guided missile and I knew nothing good, well nothing, well I knew nothing of what our entanglement would bring . . . Ah co-dependancy, Ah lust, Ah the beauty of doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. It just goes on and on.

No on can write about it while they are in it and while they are in it, it feels really good and really bad at the same time. And no one can write about it until they have closure (a term by the way that I despise) I’m not sure I’ve ever had it in my life, but as I sit here facing a fire, under the threat of encroaching Autumn, beneath skies more cloud filled than blue I know more than I did before he and I were introduced. I know more about myself. I know more about life. I know more about relationships than I ever did before and I while I was in Kentucky I realized that man invented God so he would have someone to blame shit on?

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George Elliot

I never knew she was a woman. I missed a lot of school as a teen I think that is when I would have learned this! I love her spirit! So for today I am listing 2 quotes!

“Deep, unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism,  a regeneration, the initiation into a new state.   Suffering can be likened to a baptism – the passing over the threshold of pain and grief and anguish to claim a new state of being.”

“What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?” 

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If you think you can get him back you probably can, but do you really want him, and, if so, why? For me it was more about the shock of losing him, how I lost him and the misguided impression that when I married him it was forever, for better or for worse, than it was about still loving a man who could betray me and leave me for dead one week before Thanksgiving. And getting him back, according to the experts, was more about manipulating him than it was about love at all.  Don’t get me wrong here, most of the instruction manuals I read did instruct me to love myself, by going out and doing things and eating right and exercising which can’t hurt, but what they were really saying underneath all that make yourself feel better nonsense was, I was not good enough. That somehow the attraction he had for me was lost because I had gained weight, or let myself go and those were the circumstances cementing his decision to pursue greener pastures. So if I could just get him to see me as someone new and show him instead of tell him that I was different I would be able to score his heartless ass all over again.



Most of the information I read came from books or pdf downloads and not surprisingly most gave the same recommendations. Even still I continued to buy and read anything I could get my hands on with hope that I could figure out what went wrong. This is what I discovered and I want you to know that I feel most of the information should be labeled, “How to serve your guy a manipulative crock of shit while you struggle to change your personality to meet the needs of a fellow who clearly doesn’t deserve you, cuz your afraid to go it alone!”





Part One:

The façade begins by making yourself totally unavailable to the man you think you love for one full cycle of the moon. During this crucial period you must

  • Take stock of your situation by figuring out how to make yourself the perfect woman
  • Train for a marathon, body building contest, or become a contortionist
  • Lose those unsightly extra pounds
  • Get a new wardrobe
  • Groom yourself like a supa-star
  • Never and I mean never, ever take his calls
  • For the love of all that is good and Holy, DO NOT CALL HIM!


Side note: If he unexpectedly shows up at your door, and if time permits, walk thru a mist of his favorite scent grab your purse and car keys then pretend you were just going out. Do shimmy past him with a sexy smile plastered all over your face. Make sure to brush up against him suddenly reminding him that you are the coquette enchantress he has left behind. Finally look at your watch and drive off with the speed and fortitude of a whirling dervish.


In the event an unavoidable conversation is needed never bring up the past, (because this might remind him that he is acting like an insolent spoiled 2-year-old who never learned not to masturbate in public or to keep his hands out of the cookie jar, then he might begin to realize he is a spine-less, ball-less wimp who runs away from his intimacy issues into the arms of the first soul-less husk who takes an interest in his pathetic little lies). So act like you have forgotten who he is, so he can too, by keeping every conversation brief and sun-shiny bright. If by some oddity he wants to talk about the past, act distracted, flip your hair back and quickly change the subject. Ladies we must follow this rule since, incontestably, women posses the annoying habit of wanting to talk about their feelings. Take note:  the urge to talk to your X bedmate about what is on your mind must be sequestered like a leper at a pre-school picnic.


Once these tactics are employed your man will be dogging you so incessantly you won’t have time to jump-down-turn-around-pick-a-bale-O-cotton.

So make haste and begin his obedience training promptly! But remember if you want him to be obedient you must be obedient too. So continue by adhering to the aforementioned rules with these distinctions:

  • He may now have access to you at your discretion which means even if you want to see him more you must limit your interactions to 2x per week.
  • Phone calls should be kept short and sugary sweet, remembering to smile even if he can’t see you because he will hear it in your voice
  • He must pay for all your outings which are now considered dates
  • He may not have sex with you until he has earned it which should take at least 20 dates
  • You will not disagree with him or his version of past events, allowing him the luxury of venting all his bullshit and blaming you for everything while you remain impartial, even sympathetic to his bellyaching. (We must never take things personally)
  • Take pride knowing Rome was built in a day and that you were rebuilt in 30. These gains can not be set adrift on a sea of insecurity, mistrust, or blame. Let bygones be bygones and relish the beneficence of a universe which has seen fit to return him to you!
  • Allow him to believe he is running the show, by letting him run the show. Do the things that he likes. Cook him a hot meal from time to time. Always look your best when you see him and never disclose when it’s your time of the month.
  • Don’t bother your man with your personal problems, let him think your only purpose in this world is to serve him, this will trigger memories of mommy’s warm bosom and help him feel safe.
  • In the meantime keep busy doing things just to let him know he is not the center of your universe. Have hobbies and go out with friends so he has time to watch TV, surf internet porn and scratch his balls. Men must never feel they have to entertain you. You must always entertain yourself.
  • A pundit in matters of the heart vehemently exclaims, “Funny how when you decide to entertain yourself, out of the blue your man will want to spend more time with you. He will be wondering how to please you and what he can do to get your undivided attention.”  Translation, as long as you can maintain the illusion that he doesn’t have to do anything he will be happy and want to keep you around, but the second you want something from him look out lady he’ll bolt like a chicken in a sausage factory.
  • If the idea of holding back your feelings, forgiving and respecting a man who has done you wrong triggers your gag reflex and a new habit of knocking back handfuls of zanax with Nyquil chasers just to block out daytime fantasies of lobbing off his junk with a butter knife and hanging it from your rearview mirror, simply remember what it was like when he was gone, assuaging his insecurities by humping a boat load of office chicks in the backseat of his car during happy hour. Simply remember that now you are the only one who can make him feel like a man. You have worked long and hard for this privilege so don’t fuck it up or he’ll just do it again.
  • Do I smell love in the air?


If this separation has not resulted in Nirvana than the following steps should insure your success in re-capturing his blood-less, sardonic heart. At the next full moon, call him. Flirt with him on the phone, (remember that smile). Do get him laughing and feeling really good, knocking him off guard, so he temporarily forgets he is talking to the old you and for a fleeting moment in time believes you are a new you. To maintain this illusion, butter him up but be concise. Your only purpose is to ask him out on a “date” cleverly disguised as something else. Just make sure the something else peaks his interest without intimating, “pants party”. Professional hypnotists suggest that if you can get him to say yes 3 times he will say yes to anything. I suggest that you’re gonna have a hard time asking him out without him knowing it, but according to the manual he will never decline. If he does succeed in outsmarting these geniuses you are to smile and hang-up the phone. Lather, rinse and repeat the cycle for up to 12 full moons or until he marries the bitch he left you for, which ever comes first.


An extra for those of you who have returned to sanity before completing the cycle:

Let’s suppose during the 30 day cooling off period you have culled your senses and found one that is screaming to be free of this blockhead and you decide to cling on to that sound exacerbating it until it rings in your head like an un-spayed cat in heat. Kneel down at once and do 14 novenas in a row, start your own religious order and bring your wisdom to the world by writing a blog, because you are a rare exception in the world of the hopelessly lovelorn and I applaud you.




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Men Can Act Like This!

I was in the middle of the beginning of the end.

I didn’t know it at the time. I can see it now, of course, since it’s over. He had reached the end while I was still in the beginning of the end and he knew it. Unfortunately he didn’t have the balls to tell me. Having long ago been neutered by his mother, he preferred to let me fumble around in the dark like an old dog on a leash, barking and whining and nipping at his heels for scraps. In the meantime he looked for a convenient rest area to drop my sorry ass. After that all he had to do was take the next exit where a frisky young pup waited, poised and panting, to piss all over him with glee. I suppose that’s how all the big dogs do it, sniff around until they find the next bitch in heat to mount and then they’re stuck together until the passion dies and bam it’s onto the next and the next in an endless succession that in the best possible scenario leads to the propagation of the species and in the worst creates a society of mutts with nothing better to do than sniff out that next, better bitch. That, apparently, was his world. He was part of a common breed whose business it was to seek out and conquer females in heat. My world on the other hand was sufficiently different to spark an interest in him that went beyond his traditional breeding, ass sniffing behavior, but did not rise above the realm of the ordinary pissing contests to which he was accustomed. So in the beginning there was a lure of attraction of opposites combined with a vague notion of similarity. Suffice it to say we were both dogs, but each a different breed.

Directions for Love:


I know it’s a bad, ugly analogy, but I am going to let you in on a little secret and this is a long side note. The road to wisdom is not always bathed in sweetness and light. Expect delays. Expect road blocks. Expect pot holes. Expect to get lost. Oh, and if you think you’re lost, you probably are. So ask for directions. The trick about asking for directions is to first admit you are lost and then to find someone who looks like they know the area, after that following those directions is the key. So get out a pen and some paper then take the time to write them down. You can back track if you want to, but turning around means you will be covering the same ground in a different direction. And remember that when you are traveling it is best to have a first aid kit and a flash light because the way is not usually well lit or pain free. My experience was very similar to a car jacking. Also, Stay within 10 miles of the speed limit. This will prevent trouble with the law and will serve to slow you down a little. Don’t be in such a hurry to get to where you think you are going because before you know it, just like my marriage, it will be over, and like me you will be wishing you had paid more attention to the signs along the way. You will be wishing you had paid more attention to your trip. I am telling you my story in the way it occurs to me right now, in hindsight, so bare with me.

Relationships & Breeding Cycles:


So let’s get back to that nasty dog analogy which seems to be working just fine. Do you honesty think I would have compared our relationship to the breeding cycle of the American mutt when it began? Oh, hell no! I went through a lot to get to this point and if you hadn’t noticed I am not happy about it. Yes. I am a woman scorned. No, better yet, I am a woman scorched and I’m not too proud to admit it! I am being trite, littering this story with platitudes and clichés because it is ordinary, it is common. What I am writing is the un-love story, you know the one people don’t read because they prefer happy endings. I have always liked stories where you couldn’t see what was coming. That’s what happens in real life, or rather you can see what’s coming, but you don’t care, you just let it happen. You let yourself get lost in the drama along the way. Now that’s good stuff. Shit stinks, but it’s warm.

Internet Dating:


So let’s get back to the middle, because beginnings are easy aren’t they? I should say beginnings are easy after the awkwardness wears off and mine began something like this. Once upon a time there was a middle aged woman in heat. She entered this state of pathological desperation after the lover to whom she had been faithful and loyal for 8 years kicked her to the curb for a different breed. At her age the ease with which she had once attracted mates was sufficiently diminished to leave her foolhardy enough to plunge head on into the world of computer dating.

Hello. Can you see the signs? It’s a God damned recipe for disaster! And this was only the beginning, but it was easy. Now she could fill the void from the comfort of her own home while meeting multiple, potential, transitional men all the while bypassing the slower conventional modes of introduction that seemed vacuous and bleak. It was a pure numbers game. The prize was instant gratification with a stranger whose characteristics were printed on a page for the whole world to see. To her dismay the sites she visited did not have a shopping cart feature. But shop she did, and abracadabra within a few weeks of focused intent a boy disguised as a man who was really a dog of a different breed magically appeared. After a few kittenish emails and a couple of phone calls to take the place of, “getting to know ya.”, they decided to meet.

Love at First Sight:


You know this part don’t you? When they met their eyes locked and they both felt as if they had known each other before and by the end of the night they were scrambling to pull each other’s clothes off. After that they were inseparable, blah, blah, blah. I mean it’s the stuff of movies, the filler of romance novels, the reason for being, right? Wrong! Either way our beginning was very much like a story book. On our first date I did feel a comfort and ease I had never felt with anyone during a first meeting. I felt safe being myself and I dropped my guard accordingly. You see once the beginning of our story moved into being the middle of our story I saw him as something other than just another mutt on the street. He became something very much like water. He was a deep ocean from which all knowledge is gained, a reservoir of refreshment to partake. He ebbed and flowed to me and away from me. And like water through my fingers I could not hold him. I found myself wanting to be with him to take another inestimable drink, and after that I would thirst for another. Until I found inside myself a deep ache that only he could alleviate.

How to Get an Asshole to Fall in Love with You:


Ordinarily only fervent lovemaking could arouse such impassioned longing in me and yet sex with him, although frequent, was tantamount to brutish fornication. I feigned climax on every occasion except the first, when my naiveté compelled me to lay motionless beneath him while he balled me. That night I was disenchanted. The next day I found black and blue marks on my arms from his clutches. When I grew angry and shot off an email to complain his response was terse and commanding. In a sentence he ended our relationship. He told me I was very engaging, but that we were not right for each other. I had never been rebuffed in this manner, and never so succinctly. My astonishment turned smug and I began to wonder how I could let myself be subjugated by such an acrimonious asshole, and yet the fact remained that I had been. I was vexed. This juncture presented a veritable challenge. How could I bewitch him? The usual inducements were unsuitable. He didn’t want to please me. So what then? What did he want? Was it a flaccid servant desirous of a master? Yes, that seemed feasible. So I sent back an apology signed, “Yours in Total Submission.” His response was immediate, he said, “Now you’ve got my attention!” He had taken the bait.

What if Your Friends Think He’s Gay?:


Did I mention he was half German? Did I mention that although he was in his late 30’s he still lived with his parents? Did I mention he was an only child? Oh, and for much of his adult life he was a car salesman. These were certainly character flaws I failed to scrutinize. After introducing him to my daughter and 2 of my friends all 3 asked me in private if he was gay. He did love to shop! He didn’t have any male cohorts and females buzzed around him like flies. His predilection for bondage and domination should have been the final caveat, that and his bizarre fascination with anything anal. I didn’t take exception to any of his quirks until I noticed that climax for him was not a consequence of conventional sex and then he stopped kissing me. Forgive me if I seem indiscreet. I did discuss these intimacy issues with him and for each he made a bearable confession to which I would acquiesce because I felt his pronouncements were impossible to impeach. Even though I yearned to captivate him, I strove in vain. My highest ambition was to arouse his passion and adulation as if all I needed was a cryptic code that would grant me access to his heart. Thus he became my master. What could have been the end became the middle.

Is love blind or guilelessly indiscriminant?


For me this thing called love was nothing more than a misguided compulsion.


When I fell in love with him I felt like someone who decided to wear shorts in the winter. I knew it was wrong. I knew everyone was gawking at me in disbelief and even the threat of freezing to death didn’t cause me to desist. My step-mother, God rest her soul, would have said, “You’re going down the wrong road.” A sentence I heard more than once growing up. She would have been right too, but who listens to their mother?

Deluded Bastard or?:


Let’s talk about true love for a moment. Is it really a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person, or is it simply a preposterous ideation of a quixotic notion?

Does true love last forever? Are true love and monogamy synonymous? Or are these concepts nothing more than utopian ideals cooked-up by some deluded bastard bent on hornswoggling us? If so, his efforts have come to fruition with wild success and utter failure. For while we clamor to find that one true love, once that mission is accomplished it seems the novelty wears off and that profoundly tender, passionate affection we had for the other turns into subjugation. Rather than admit we have been bamboozled we continue in search of a dream land by looking for greener pastures on the other side of the fence, eternally hankering for just “the right stuff”? I think the P.C. term is serial monogamy and nowadays it continues until you are too old to care about impossible standards and you decide to settle for anyone just as long as they’ll have you, that is, unless you decide to grow-up. That’s right, I said it. Grow up! Accept the actuality that the dream isn’t real, at least not the way it’s been dispensed to you. You always see happy beginnings and happy ever after endings, but you are never privy to the ever after, also known as the middle. The movie ends, the credits roll and you are left with your imagination as to the rest. The human being is known through out history for taking the path of least resistance and the divorce rate is proof in the pudding isn’t it? It’s a kind of fast food mentality that gets us nowhere and leaves us scratching our heads wondering what went wrong. I am going to take a big chance here and mention that what went wrong was something inside you! Oh Holy Hell, now I’ve gone and done it. I’ve angered the audience, but before you go off half cocked, let me finish. Because if you don’t work it out now, in 5 or 10 years, you will find yourself, like I did, feeling purloined and pigeonholed going nowhere at the speed of light. You’ll have the company of hindsight and nothing more. It’s not warm and fuzzy, but it’s the truth.




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