Prometheus at Hot Damn

Hot Damn! started 2019 with a packed room workshop at Glad Day and a SRO house at Buddies in Bad Times – both driven by feature Regie Cabico. The participants at the workshop wrote & shared some excellent work on the spot – the level of trust among people who had never met before was encouraging, as was the diversity of the participants.

When I got to Buddies to help Charlie set up there were people already clambering to get in 🙂 so the house opened fifteen minutes earlier than usual, I did front of house & it was full enough to start the show a little after 8 (nearly on time for a poetry show). Standing room only by 8:15. Also a full sign-up sheet for slammers – 11 – a Hot Damn! record.

After some opener stagers the first round got underway with a series of politically & emotionally pieces that held nothing back on gender, indigenous, & local political issues. Round two had fewer slammers (lowest scores didn’t get to move forward) and the tone of the pieces became more reflective, personal but equally as direct and powerful.

Lines from the first part of the show: my tongue was not enough’ ‘the swish of sari silk’ ‘I could taste blood’ ‘I fell in love with a crack dealer’ ‘you are the art work of past lives’ ‘our medicine made illegal’ ‘give up your cottages and give us back our land’ ‘what he really should have admitted to you before you married’ ‘I only knew how to see you as a moving disaster’ ‘nobody giving me room to make mistakes in’ ‘betrayal tastes like fennel and sage’ ‘my neighbourhood becomes a trigger warning’ ‘you ask me if I’ll forgive you’ ‘I pray you get your forgiveness but it will never come from me’ ‘I say to them – it’s not your table’ ‘you still here with me like a cloud in my mind’ ‘as if money could regenerate our roots’ ‘I’m not sure how to tell your dad that you’re gay’

Feature Regie Cabico did a strong set drawing from his recent chapbook ‘Sticky Stars & Sheets.’ Funny, deeply personal, very sensual & inspiring. ‘jack-off in the name of leukaemia research’ ‘the warehouses are lit by flames of vodka’ ‘you will not pluck my pancreas like Prometheus’ ‘you hold me like an oar directing my past’ ‘we run like suitcases on wheels’ ‘two lonely Tony’s from West Side Story’ ‘his calf … stretched out before me like Florida’

This is not my first review of Regie though: Spoonful of Beautiful https://wp.me/p1RtxU-d2. We’ve enjoyed each other’s performances in the past so I may not be impartial – but the audience was so enthused so my review isn’t exaggerating his set. 

After a much needed break the show resumed with a few more open stagers & the final round of the slam; ‘I need a place to sit to get perspective’ ‘they’re asking me if I have a gender identity’ ‘never more than genetic coding’ ‘baby shoes take me back to memory like a phantom limb’ ‘too many of us seeking help’ ‘this body is not a temple you are invited to’ ‘my mess you speak to’ ‘oozo ozone’ ‘even my now voice is too heavy to raise’ ‘confuse tenderness with love’ ‘saying gay people should die while getting off on lesbian porn’ ‘it just isn’t about sex anymore’ ‘hidden by ink and time’ ‘the space between fingertips & footsteps.’

Scores were tabulated, prizes were given. Yes, there was a winner, who gets to compete in April for the grand prize: the trip to participate in Capturing Fire (dates tba, soon) but the real winner was the audience. Next Toronto Hot Damn! is March 7. 

(above blog pics are of construction by Buddies)

the piece I wrote at the workshop – rough draft –

Resume

Henry texted me

he was told to stay home

he’s afraid

he’ll lose his job

Henry is one of my lovers

we have been seeing other

every week or so

for over three years

 

I want him to feel

cared for

but I have no solution

for his situation

other than acknowledging his stress

 

I like Henry

but I do not love him

he wants job security

not love

 

it is hard to breathe 

in the workshop

so many perfumes

I’m glad I have no

environment allergies

 

the tenderness of

Henry’s slow kisses

is what I love

 

the tentative tongue start

draws us

into each other’s bodies

 

I love his tongue

but can’t pronounce his last name

Mwawasi

unless it is in front of me

 

in Cape Breton this summer

I will visit

my parents graves

I wasn’t there when they died

they won’t be here

when I die

they will never see my grave

 

Henry texts

he is going to bed

I hope he sleeps well

that he dreams of our kisses

not of rewriting his resume 

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Architectural un/Digest/able

samprules2

Working through the  227 Rules For Monks.

Who knew the simple life could be so complex.

Architectural un/Digest/able

The White House

architecturally speaking

holds no interest for me

big sprawling 

designed to impress 

not to live in

history was made there

apparently

 

but to me

it isn’t even a photo op

merely a symbol 

of promises unkept

of hopes betrayed

needs ignored in favour of profit

not for progress

 

I’ve seen it from a distance

that’s close enough for me

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Underwear Changes

Change Nothing Changes

if nothing changes 

nothing changes

safe is secure

but it isn’t always productive

 

constructing a life

that is safe and secure

denies the power of insecurity

the energy of being unguarded

 

things work fine

leave them be

why replace what is still working

even for a newer faster model

with features I never needed

 

what will I do with the time I save

find more ways of being 

safe and secure

of not taking any creative chances

 

why change the scenery

what’s the point of a new shoes

when all the old ones

are perfectly fine

 

why moan about the lack of growth

when growth means being open to change

it’s as if

only the dramatic change

is worth seeking out

 

as if growth only comes from

the greatest pointless risk

that surviving danger

is the only catalyst for moving forward

 

though why move forward

when things are as good as they need to be

boredom contentment

complacency 

the new hair cut

the step away from all black

to blue and yellow

 

the opportunity to replace 

what works fine

is to be open

to what may work the same

yet move things forward

 

to allow change

let go of the comfortable

that defines one

step into uncertainly

with the certainty things will change

Declaimer: I do not impose sequence or time of posting to coordinate with the time of year so it is ‘coincidence’ that the forces lined this piece to come at this time of year 🙂 

As I’ve blogged before I believe gradual change works better than dramatic change – I also believe that ‘superficial’ physical change can lead to deeper emotional change. I have a female friend in recovery who loved a pair of glittery sandals that were always falling off when she walked. She complained of feeling emotionally unsure about certain things & I suggested she get real shoes so she could walk steadily. She looked at me as if I were crazy. I said if she could walk without fear of losing her shoes her emotional footing would also improve. She did & it worked.

Some of us are object hoarders, others are emotional hoarders, some are both 🙂 Giving up a sense of never being good enough is difficult in a culture where feeling good enough is seen as conceit, as arrogance. Inadequacy become comfortable and losing it means replacing it with a change attitude about the self. Would I rather stick to that familiar sense of self or let it go – who would I be then?

I remember watching Hoarders & saw people willing to change, who clearly needed to divest yet who balked at the work needed to do it – they were ‘happier’ in the womb of their stuff – they didn’t know who they would be without it. Sometime I felt ‘the helpers’ did too much, too fast for those ‘rescued’ to adjust to a new clearer reality. Plus relying on guilt & shame in the process is never productive.

In my life change is constant in small ways & sometimes in big ways. I replace perfectly good things – tee-shirts, underwear, socks, mugs, music taste, daily routines – in order to encourage forward motion. Going to Capturing Fire a few years ago was a big change – taking myself out of the comfort of the local poetry scene into a bigger one paid off creatively. It was a logical progression as result of my participation in Hot Damn!

Changing my underwear has also been an interesting process. I don’t mean changing it more often but ‘upgrading’ from the standard solid colour Stanfields/Hanes multipacks to patterns, styles, even fabrics changed my sexual sense of self from the unglamorous functional to a more fun & unexpected sexy secret self that has resulted in a fuller sex life & possibly an even more confident me on stage. 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2019’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Sneak Peek January 2019

A quick look back before the peek – my TOpoet.ca following jumped to 298 maybe I’ll get to 300 by the end of January. Twitter is up to 210 thanks to more internet entrepreneurs following me 🙂 & Tumblr steady at 214 – it would be much more but I block any hetero-porn sites that follow me. Also a nice jump in WP hits that started when I stopped the auto link to Tumblr & replaced it with Google+.

 

Speaking of Tumblr with the new ‘adult content’ standards – it seems lots of nude picture posters have abandoned ship, some gone to twitter  (until twitter enforces those standards I guess) – those that remain are still as explicit as ever – so I’m not sure what is going on there. I’m still having to block hetero sex/dating sites from following me.

 

For January I’ll be back to posting Coal Dusters, new pieces prompted by the 227 Rules For Monks & rambling on about poems I have written. I enjoyed the Christmas stuff I was writing & will make that a new tradition for every December. The response was very positive for it but even if it wasn’t I’d do it anyway 🙂 Monday: my music collection; Tuesday: Coal Dusters; Wednesday: poetry chat; Thursday: Rules; Friday: inspirations, Disability After Dark or whatever. Saturdays will be for the occasional reviews of books, poetry shows.

Speaking of shows Hot Damn!’s January 10th show will feature Capturing Fire founder Regie Cabico. This will be a high-energy set that will leave you both shocked & grateful – plus a workshop in the afternoon. Hopefully he’ll confirm the dates for Capturing Fire 2019 so I can plan what to wear to DC this year 🙂

 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy ice-cream in Washington at 2019’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Marvellous? Mahler

I have a box set of Gustav Mahler’s The Symphonies on 12 cds that I received as a Christmas present in 2007. After several listenings I remain indifferent to the sweep of his music. His life deserves a ten part bio-series though. After the Ken Russel’s over-the-top Mahler no one has been brave enough to take a serious look.

As a composer he falls between Beethoven and Schoenberg. The symphonies are sometimes tone poems and other time monumental complex pieces that include choirs, soloists & ponderous emotional intent. He also composed sets of lieder that are equally as ponderous. I have a recording of them as well.

The fact that I don’t really get Mahler, say the way I love Beethoven or Shostakovich, is a sign that my musical tastes aren’t sensitive enough. Much like Wagner I find listening to them more a ‘duty’ that a pleasure. I’ve been drawn into conversations about composers & have been made to feel that my partialities are a sign of a lack of intellect. Such is life. I’d rather be common that elite – which isn’t to forget that liking classical music already implies a certain elitism.

What else did he write? Good question. He incorporated some of his early work into his symphonies and then those original manuscripts are ‘lost.’ There is a partial paint quartet, the handful of lieder & that’s it. Maybe, like some Mozart, Bach & Vivaldi, those lost manuscripts will be discovered as kitchen shelf paper.

If you are unfamiliar with Mahler a good start is Symphony #B: “Symphony of a Thousand” that features baritones, sopranos etc plus a choir or two. Pump up the volume & left it pummel you 🙂

The Grinding

Festive readers, I am pleased to bring you a wrap up of the week-end’s events.  The highlight of which has to be the annual Lighting of the Trees. Held in several locations in the hills about Crab Apple Corners the horizon is illuminated by the first official rite of the season.

I choose to attend the ceremony at Hijil’s Farm – they had obtained two of the remaining stand of ancient red wood sycamores and had them flown in for the occasion. Trees so large they needed two helicopters to carry each of them.

The first flame was applied to them by our local Miss Pig Driver, Tanis-Lotus Flatly. The trees did us the great honour of being slow to ignite, but once they had been engulfed in flames the look of joy in the faces of the children was worth the wait.

Once these two trees were in flames, burning torches were taken to the sites where other trees were ready for the ceremony. The Great Maple at McCracken’s of Daw Hill was the next to be torched and quickly one could see similar fires all across the country side. Hijil’s Farm perched atop Green Bluffs gave us a splendid view of the various tributes to the season.

Once the first two trees had been burnt to cinders our parish Vicar Father Frank did The Grinding and was quickly joined by the other men who were of age, to participate in this ritual.

I was thrilled to be offered by my one and only Hank Grebly the fruits of his grinding. A jar filled with these delicate ashes and moose fat can sit proudly on any mantle piece. There will be enough here to guarantee me a year of fertility and good weather. After all, it only takes a pinch a day, tossed into the wind to catch the eye of the spirits for protection.

The carolling at St. Sufferer’s Cathedral was once again a thrill, especially now that the bells have almost been tuned. The climax of each verse is a ringing of these bells that echoes though our happy valley and shimmers through the fragrant smoke produced by the Lighting of the Trees.

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

January 10, Thursday: 8 p.m. Hot Damn! Its’ a Queer Slam – Buddies in Bad Times Theatre: feature Regie Cabico

http://www.queerslam.com

returning every Tuesday 2019


June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

August 2-13: getting back to my roots in Cape Breton 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2019’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

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Gismonti Glaspar

A pair of opposites sit side-by-side on my jazz shelf – first is Egberto Gismonti – I have a cassette of  Works; stand alone cds: In Montreal; Infancia. Plus he appears on many many EMC records as a sideman. He is a sublime, imaginative Latin jazz acoustic guitarist – similar to Ralph Towner but with a more emotional style.

Works is a sampling of his other ECM recordings; on Live in Montreal he plays with bassist Charlie Haden. Tasty but never dull duets that push each player to greater creativity. Infancia is a group recording with synthesizers & cello in the mix. Experimental without being jarring, meditative without being boring. Superb music.
Beside him is Robert Glaspar: with his Trio: Canvas; with others is Double Booked; and his Miles Davis repurposed (as MP3) is Everything’s Beautiful. This is cutting edge jazz piano. Propulsive, sometimes dissonant & always inventive. The cds are mostly originals with some fun covers: i.e. Herbie Hancock’s Butterfly.

 

Everything’s Beautiful is a mix of re-mixing, sampling, a dash of hip-hop, rap in his reimagining of Miles Davis; Davis was so experimental & still remains modern, that it at first seemed pointless to update him, as it were. I enjoy what Glaspar does but I find him too deconstructive as opposed to revelatory. Davis may have inspired some of these pieces but the samples & inspiration become lost in the mix. Check it out on youtube before you splurge 🙂

Arts und Krafts

Kind readers one thing that I neglected to mention in my wee report yesterday was the Arts und Krafts display at St. Sufferer’s Cathedral’s Fun Fair. Like many of you I have seen my share of knitted booties for rifle stocks and candle holders made out of moose dung but there were some very fine pieces from the near by College of Arts and Reconstructionist Designers of Palmixalitato County.

I am well aware of the rivalry that has been going on between the students in that county and our own but remember we did trounce them the last three years in the Provincial Open Court Peach Pit Curling Play Off. So we can afford to allow them to excel at something and excel they did at the Fun Fair.

There were many charming crystallized bones pieces from the Anatomy of Design classes there. I was particularly taken by the crystallized moose bone reproductions of the Departments of the Cross that one Leslie Ann Marie Betty McDellon had created.

I can’t imagine what sort of skill it takes to do such fine work but I can certainty respect the work that it took.

Also many were charmed by the spiderwood furniture Gregh O’Treple has wrought there. A sturdy eight legged rocking chair with a fine webbed seat and back was very comfortable to sit in for long periods of time. He hopes to follow in the family footsteps and may be opening his own furniture and restraints shoppe right here in Crab Apple Corners. He will surely be missed in Palmixalitato County. But their misery is always our gain.

Another feature of the Fun Fair that cannot be neglected was the food pavilion. Over 20,000 were seated at one time for a fine feeding of Trish Creamly’s delicious sprung bark toffee pie. Trish you have out done yourself this year. Just save that recipe for my wedding reception. I know if you keep your hands on the crust you’ll keep them off my man – just kidding folks.

The children at the Fun Fair were also treated to a production by the local Armature Theatre Guild. They performed tragic scenes from various plays. The beheading of John the Baptist brought the crowd to their feet and kudos must go to Hank Grebly who did a fine job in the title role of that piece.

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

http://www.queerslam.com

returning every Tuesday 2019


June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

 

NaNoWriMo.05 2018

Wrapping NaNoWriMo with a whopping validated 66,025 words, not too shabby considering the distractions of Coal Dusters. I did include the extra work on Coal Dusters in my NaNo count for this year – after it started as a NaNo several years ago.

I’ve really liked the work I put in on Blludstun as I allowed it to morph from my original intent into a more complex paranormal mystery. As I’ve said as I wrote the nature of the plot – the events of the plot became clearer – so I do have a really sound set of notes, characters & a general sense of where it is going so I can, perhaps, jump back into it int e new years, all depending on my Coal Dusters progress. 

Of course once Dusters has been blogged I have Picture Perfect edits to tackle next. That one will be a major job as I have some 250000 words there to deal with. My brain’s filing system is pretty amazing as I can already sense what work needs to be done on Perfect while I’m slogging away at Dusters & sowing the seeds of Blludstun. Not to mention working on pieces for an upcoming feature & for performing at Capturing Fire. Yes, I still remember to put my shoes on 🙂

 

I did a few things different this year – it’s always good the change things up. I usually put tougher some extensive playlists of new-to-me music. This year I reached into my overly-extensive archive & pulled out lots of Chopin, various jazz & even some pop – all at a move-your-fingers beat. With six years of non-stop music to dip into I thought it was time to dip into it. 

one final glimpse into the story:

“Once again I have digressed from my original intent in writing this letter to you. This is one of the facets of the creative scientific mind. I have no told anyone of the night my dear husband died. I feel I can trust a stranger, that I can be open with someone I don’t know or whom I may never meet so that what ever judgements you may have I will never experience. I will ask one favour.”

“What is that?” Matt said aloud.

“What is what?” Gabe asked.

“My God!” Matt shook his head. “I was talking to Thomasina as if she was really here!”

“Must be a compelling letter.” Gabe sat on the couch beside Matt.

“I wasn’t here at all. I was sitting in an English tea shoppe sipping Assam orange pekoe tea with her. We were eating petite fours.”

“While you were reading that letter?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even realize that until you … until I answered her. I know she wasn’t here but how did I get to there without even knowing it? I mean not even knowing I was there until just now?”

“Sounds like … I was going to say astral projection but the person travelling does it with their own awareness of doing it.”

“It’s all so vivid. I can feel the warmth of the tea cup in my hand. Thin bone china with a zigzag pattern around the edge. A sort of Egyptian sun burst in the bottom of the cup that was reveal as I drank the tea.”

“What else do you recall. What did she look like?”

“I don’t know. I was listening to her but not seeing here. Everything around me is a sort of void. There’s just me, the cup of tea, the little cake and her voice.”

“Are you sitting on a chair?”

“Yes.”

“Was there a table cloth? Anything else on the table?”

“I didn’t even see a table. Just the tea cup, it’s a dark blue bone china with an art deco zigzag pattern along the inside rim. But I told you that already, didn’t I.”

“That pattern fits in the with the house I saw in my … vision. What were you asking?”

“Asking?”

“When I brought you out of your trance?”

“Right. She asking me a favour. I was asking her what it was.” Matt went back to the letter. “She wants me not to tell anyone what she’s just written me in the letter.”

“Which was?” 

“I … if I honour her request I can’t tell you.”

“Then let me read it.” Gabe reached for the letter. 

“No.” Matt put the letter behind his back so Gabe couldn’t get at it.

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6
November 1 -30

http://nanowrimo.org
http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday


June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

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tea time

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Fraud

Fraud

 

there are days

when I am more confused

days that start 

with me feeling pretty confident

in my worldview

in my opinions about things

often things that have nothing to do with me

things that don’t depend of me

except as a faceless person

 

I’m pretty comfortable in that milieu

having only the weight

of my own thinking to carry

then along comes

someone I know

who challenges this safety zone

 

I realize

I may not be as liberal & accepting 

as I think I am

apparently being supportive

means totally 

not merely 

as far as I’m willing to go

if I don’t go all the way

I’m a fraud

 

if I’m not intimidated

I must be interested

but if I’m not interested 

then I’m still trapped 

by cultural concepts of gender 

by heteronormative ideals of sexuality

 

this all came about

when a trans friend

was peeved that I didn’t find them

sexually attractive

to be frank I didn’t even find them

asexually attractive

but I did enjoy their articulate way

of dealing with struggles 

of their self discovery

I didn’t realize

my lack of sexual interest was unsettling

was a lack of acceptance of their struggle

so I was confused

I was suddenly like

every other cismale they’d ever met

 

because I didn’t know any better

I stepped away from that opportunity

to find a human beneath the struggle

one that is perhaps still

struggling to find itself

I stepped out of the way

I’m not one to hold back progress

while I find a space for myself

in a world where there 

is so much black and white thinking

there seems no middle ground

for compassion

 

There is truth in this but not all of it is my direct experience. I know a fair number of trans people – transitioned or -ing in either direction. I’m pretty comfortable with them as well. I also know androgynous, asexual people. So far none of them have hit on me, at least not f2f. I have some transmales contact me on dating sites though. After a few messages it was clear there really wasn’t enough interest on either side pursue things. Mainly because I’m too old.

 

But I have had a couple of trans who thought because I was friendly that I was interested. As I’ve told a few guys, just because I like what you are wearing doesn’t mean I want to get into your pants. It’s that delicate balance between people’s need for acceptance & their sense of self. I know that when I was a drunk a kind waiter meant he was clearly interested.

 

Some of this comes out of other people’s experiences around these issues of sexual attraction, gender & political correctness. It’s similar to the bear community bitching about body shaming while at the same time shaming people who are too thin for being politically ensnared by heteronormative standards of looks.

 

Confused? Then you feel a bit of what this piece talks about. If one is so radical what difference does it make what the body is – but then again if any body will do, you are clearly a slut. I have heard trans people say that if you really supported me you’d have no issue with sleeping with me; denying the other the right to have an acceptable opinion.

 

 

 

There seems to be no middle ground.

 

 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2019’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

FatBoy Out Of The House

I first heard The Housemartins in a friend’s place way back in the 80’s. He had the lp London 0 Hull 4 which he had picked up in London well before it was released in North America. I made a an lp to cassette copy of it. The band has a sweet Beatles vibe I enjoyed. Not that they were retro but they were ‘uncomplicated.’

Nice textured harmonies with solid rock music. No electronic effects, no trippy studio gimmicks, with a sense of humour. The same holds true their second lp The People Who Grinned Themselves to Death. The writing is emotional without being melodramatic. Lead singer has a very appealing voice as well. I enjoyed them & eventually replaced my cassette with mp3s of both albums. But before I did that I did pick the cd: Now That’s What I Call Quite Good – a compilation of some tracks from the lps with some out-takes, b-sides & live performances. All fine stuff & well worth tracking down.

The band split up before they really made it big. A couple of them formed Beautiful South. I’ve heard some tracks by South – an extension of House but they didn’t grab me enough to add them to my collection. 

Even more of a surprise is that, Norman Cook, one of that original band went on to become FatBoy Slim! The antithesis of Housemartins. Nothing homey or laidback about Slim. I have stand-alones: You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby; Halfway Between the Gutter & The Stars; Palookaville. I heard a couple of tracks on a compilation of techo-dance music & came across a 2nd copy of Long Way, Baby & really loved him. 

All the cd’s are sample heavy in the best way but as he progressed more ‘original’ electronica developed. His ‘funky’ stuff is great for writing to, his original stuff tends to Moby like soundscapes. Halfway’s Sunset [Bird of Prey] features a tasty Jim Morrison sample. Give it a listen on youtube 🙂 

Warning 

‘Put that down.’

‘What?’ I pulled my hand away from the shopping bag I was about to pick up. ‘I mean, why?’

‘Just step away from the bag, ma’am.’

‘I don’t understand.’ I glared at the police woman, levelling a gun at me.

‘I said just step away from the bag.’

I obeyed.

‘That’s good. Keep stepping back.’

Two officers rushed between me and the shopping bag.

‘I was just … ’

‘We know what you were just going to do, ma’am.’ The female officer yanked my arms behind my back and handcuffed me. ‘It happens all the time. Can’t leave well enough alone can you.’

‘Cut.’ Stan Johnson called out.

‘Did I hurt you?’ Jean, the actress playing the female officer, asked me.

‘No. That went well, don’t you think?’ Stan clapped. ‘Very well.’

‘Yeah. But …’

‘But what?’ The prop grip came over and removed the handcuffs.

Jean nodded for me to step off the set with her.

‘Don’t go far girls.’ Stan, our beloved director, said.

‘There.’ Jean winced. ‘Calling us girls, again. I’m sick of it.’

‘But it’s just a word. He’s not even thinking.’

‘Yeah, well, even this commercial makes me want to scream.’

‘I think it’s funny.’

‘Funny?’

‘Yeah. The wife so curious she can’t wait to see what her husband has bought so she can switch it with what she really wants while his back is turned.’

‘Well, it makes me sick. All women aren’t that curious, aren’t all snoops. Plays on stereotypes.’

‘Makes fun of stereotypes.’

‘Still not fair, you know. And where’s the husband? Why not have him arrested as he buys the crappy gift – now that makes me laugh. No, arrest the wife for trying to look after her own needs.’

‘Okay, back on set.’ Stan motioned to Jean. ‘Why don’t you just do your job, sweetheart, and leave the rest of it to us. Market research knows what sells. We aren’t selling to women but to men.’

‘And women don’t know what men want.’

‘Of course they do, but we can’t show that on television. At least not at family hour.’ Stan laughed at his  joke.

‘Places everyone.’ his assistant made sure each of us was on our marks. 

‘Okay. Action.’

I reached for the shopping bag. I didn’t even know what was actually in it. It could be some styrofoam blob.  It didn’t matter. It was a script, an action, not a reality.

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6
November 1 -30

http://nanowrimo.org
http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday


June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

 

NaNoWriMo.04 2018

Let me tell you, balancing this year’s NaNo with editing Coal Dusters had been a challenge – the result is that I have good notes on Blludstun but have made little head way is getting the story really going. But I am happy with the progress on the new NaNo & even happier with the new Dusters work.

I try to clear my life of distractions, create more writing time by getting up earlier, shortening my walk & even reading less & succeed to a degree but there is still this blog, & posting a daily set of pictures on Tumblr to keep up. I also had a Hot Damn! to distract & inspire me at the same time. Working on my pieces to perform, even riding some new pieces. 

When I hit my 50,000 target earlier this week I started to take it easy. I’ve keep writing but keeping track of the words is not going to bother me any more. There’ll be a final tally at the start of next week & then I may put Blludstun to rest for a few months as I jump on the Christmas luge  to the new year.

I’ve allowed the narrative to take its own shape so far, some things have worked very well other proved to be blind alleys, but all count toward my word tally. Everything can be fixed in editing & the more I written the more I have to work with when I edit. Much like Coal Dusters I’ll fill in descriptive details not the rewrite. By then I’ll have clear idea of the characters so I can info to expand their characters – things like clothes, room details, and what they actually are eating. When on first draft I write they had supper, in a little draft I can say what they had for supper.

(Ystradgynlais in an actual place in Wales)

When I went back to letter [from Thomasina] I could smell that peppery rose scent. It was even stronger now. My hands smelled of it. I skimmed what I had read already. 

“What I missed most about William were the endless arguments we had over the undying purpose and aim of our research. He felt we had an obligation to change the human race for the better, that we were to shape it more clearly for the future. I was more inclined to believe our purpose was to improve circumstance as they are not set out to dramatically change them. 

He was convinced that his skin research would unlock the mistery of life, that man would be able to take the creation of life into his own hands. When be came this enthralled with his mission I reminded him that he had an artificial hand, not the one he was born with. This he countered with the fact this his man-made hand was superior in every way to the one he was born with.

He also reminded me that with science he had had his gender changed. Science shaped him for the future not some God, or even some quirk of biology. Of course we spoke on with greater technological understanding of our specialized fields. I am telling you this in general terms. Details of our research is never divulged – not even to others in the field.

But the real reason I am writing you, a complete stranger, is to confess that I’ve felt responsible for the death of William all these years. The night of his accident we had our first real disagreement. Sure we had argued as married couples do and had our professional differences but that night we had a screaming match. I am ashamed to say things were broken. We struck each other in our blind rage.

There were things. even after all our years together, that William refused to divulge to me about his life. There were areas of our home that I was denied access to where he claimed he needed total privacy to do certain of his experiments.

I wanted to know what sort of research he was doing that needed to be done in secret. I held nothing back from him that I discovered and didn’t he trust me enough to be as open with him. After all these years of literally working side by side he still hadn’t confided in me the final stage of creating the artificial skin. What did I have to do to finally earn his trust? 

He sniffed and said that he wasn’t ready to let me make the sacrifices he had made.

Sacrifices I said. It’s not as if he’s sold his soul to the devil or some such nonsense. 

It was at that point he struck me. He shouted ‘woman don’t talk about things you know nothing about. Things that I wish deep in my heart that I never knew. Things no one else on this planet should never know or even suspect.’

I was stunned, shaken and also angry that he would resort to such a tired cliche to avoid being honest. I told him in no uncertain terms that there was no such thing as the devil and if he expected me to believe that he was mistaken.

He laughed in my face. That’s when I struck out at him. That didn’t stop his laughter while he told me there were much worse things in this world with greater power than any devil dreamed of having. 

I accused him of being irrational and delusional. I hadn’t realized how close to madness he had become over the last few years. I suppose being so close to him I didn’t notice it until that moment.

He pushed past me and run out of the house. He got into his car and left me there. About half-an-hour later the local constabulary came to the door to tell that there had been an accident and William had been rushed to xx Hospital. 

I later found out that he had lost control of the car and it had rammed into a petrol truck. He had been incinerated in the fire. Turned to ashes, all except his hand. Our most recent advance in Pellotics made the skin impervious to heat. One would have to drop it into an erupting volcano for it to dissolve.

As I said I had looked forward to meeting my only living relative but that is not to be. What is to be is that you will, I hope, enjoy Blludstun Towers as much as we have. Ystradgynlais is quaint and not as rustic as you may expect.”

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6
November 1 -30

http://nanowrimo.org
http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday


June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet