One Day On a Bus:The "Star Trek" Effect

The Star Trek Effect

     Dr. Edward Graves had always been an outcast, mostly because he was very, very shy. When he was forty, he saw an episode of Star Trek where this genus had built himself a female companion. Ignoring, the unhappy ending, he figured that that was probably a good idea, considering that, he too, was a genus, and that human females intimidated him. If he were to build one, he would know that there would be nothing to be afraid of. He was wrong. Obviously, there had been some problems in the small town where he had sent India to live (to see if she would fit in). She had been an outcast too. It also seemed as if she were in serious physical danger. Now, she was on the phone doing something she had never done before. She was crying. She was very confused; the plastic in her nose was broken; she missed him. He had told her that she would have to be shut down if she became violent. But that was before she left. Now she sounded so helpless. The bus driver had tripped her, and she had been humiliated. She was real, at least to him. Could he really kill her?

I apologize for the break. Here is the next installment of "One Day On a Bus". Please enjoy and feel free to share.

Thanks for reading!

heidi

Brkn Kybard

Brkn Kybard

iii cam iin t my dsk t writ and fnd that my swtiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipiiiiiiiiiiiis had bn in my ffic.
nw iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing lttrs and my iiiiiiiiiiiiii sticks.

is iiiiiiiit wtiiiiiting that's hard....r is it parnting?

Whr's my thr kybard???????

h.

9/17/11

One Day On A Bus: Midge

Midge

     Answer the damn phone, Shirley. Come on. You thought that the shoot-out you saw at the Piggley-Wiggley was hot snot waittill you...Shirl? Girl, did I wake you up? God, I am so sorry. I just had something on my mind that was a buggin' me...do you want me to let you go? I could always call Belinda Jo. Are you sure? I didn't interrupt anything, did I? Woman! Don't you tell me that you have got Mary McFarber's husband Burt over there. I don't wanna hear it! I am a good woman. I only called you to tell you what happened to me today that was very peculiar, but if you would rather do other things, well, then that's fine with me. What? I'm not bothering you though, am I? Good. Well listen to this. You know that new librarian, India Bellegraves, right? Well we were on the same bus today...the one from midtown. I was at the Shoe Shanty, and I got Harv the most adorable pair of bunny slippers on sale there today. They are so funny! They're...what? Oh! Yeah! Well anyway, I was trying to be sociable, you know I always did feel so sorry for the poor girl with no friends and all, but she wouldn't even look at me, and when I practically forced her to talk to me, well! You would not believe how rude she was. I was so offended.  We come to the stop and when she went to get out, you know Charlie Hicks, Em's ex? yeah, well he's drivin' the bus, and India and I go to get off...did I tell you that she lives in Bessie's boardin' house up the block from me? Me either! Anyway, so we're gettin' off, and you know what a.....a...well you know, unpleasant man Charlie is, well, he did something, and tripped her. I can't figure out how he did it, but she fell down the stairs into this puddle. You are not going to believe this next part...actual smoke comes up from where her face is in the puddle, and she stands up and brushes...I was on the stairs...Yes! This has a point. Patience is a virtue, Shirley, dear. Miss Bellegraves walks past me, and I smelled that smell that your cars get when something has broken in your engine on a rainy day, and she looks at him, and she SMILES, and then she punched him out. Then, like nothing happened at all, she just gets out and goes home, and I think, that she is plannin' on movin' out, because there's a van down at Bessie's and the only other boarder she has is Frank the deputy, and you now he's not goin' anywhere since the sheriff died in that hunting accident with him last year. Now, don't you think that's  suspicious? What? What do you mean you don't care? I thought it was important, and interesting...I asked you if you'd rather not talk. What? Fine. I don't have to take this from you miss...hello? Bitch. Don't say goodbye. you know, I wonder what Mary McFarber's doin' right about now, and I wonder if she'd like to hear something interesting.

heidi

This is the second in the "One Day On A Bus Series". I have had trouble with Midge's voice. She sounds like a couple of different people to me. I tend to go back and forth on what she is like and it shows in here.  Although, it was FUN to write. There are some people that I have introduced that I never wrote a piece for, that I think I want to write for now. I wonder how they would fit in? Maybe this will go on a little longer than I had planned. hhmmmm....

Anyway, we have reached another anniversary. This marks the beginning of the fourth week for the lasagna. Thanks for reading, and for the comments and reactions!

The River

The River

I stand in the river of
my actions and it drips,
drips, drips down and I
doubt if I was right, but
then I stop.
Because I know I was right,
right, right, and that I hav
                                       e
                                     don
                                    e no w
                                      ron
                                        g

                                        I
                                       sit
                                     and I
                                       thi
                                         n

                                         k
                                       and
                                      I lis
                                        ten
                                          t

                                          o
                                        my t
                                      hought
                                        s as
                                           t

                                           h
                                         ey d
                                        rip, d
                                          rip,
                                            d
                                               r
                                                  ip, drip, drip,
                                              drip, drip, drip, 
                                                   drip, drip,
                                                       drip.

heidi

originally written around 1990.

I really like this one. I liked (and I still do I guess) to play with the way the poem looks. I also was really into the sound of the words together, so sometimes I wasn't really after the meaning.  This one does have a story, that was really in line with a lot of stuff that I was writing at the time. It makes me smile. I am working on a new immediate story that I will probably post as soon as it's finished. Look out tomorrow for the second part of "One Day On A Bus". Thanks for reading!

to Melissa: Here's Your Fucking Answer

to Melissa: Here's Your Fucking Answer

Okay, you wanna know?
You wanna know why I think I'm unlikable?
Why I'm afraid I don't like myself?
Why I am sure that people won't like me if they know me?

Fine.

But first, I think you're going to owe me a big plate with some bacon and mashed potatoes and probably a little something dark chocolate.
(Because really, who can't like themselves after bacon?)

I'm not perfect. I don't have whatever it is that makes people okay.
I don't even know what that is.
And since I don't know, I need to be perfect.
And I can't be perfect.
I've tried. I've tried very hard and failed.
So I keep working towards perfect.

I've tried to fake that whatever it is...
(shit! is that what the French mean by je ne sais quoi?)
And what I feel: is fake. I feel like I am performing. 
And I'm tired of performing.
I'm so tired.

I feel like an empty, drained, dead vessel.
That's not interesting.
I wouldn't want to be around an empty, drained, dead vessel.
The most fun you could have would be to yell "echo" in the mouth.

I don't know why I'm unlikeable (aside from the fake stuff-that's not cool, and the dead vessel stuff-that's dull)
And I'm afraid to find out why I suck.
What if it's so big that it overwhelms me?
What if it's so bad that I like it?
What if it's nothing, and I've wasted all this time? And I have to go make friends?
DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH FUCKING WORK THAT WOULD BE???????

There, happy, now?

I'm great.
And seriously, where's the bacon?


heidi

begun 9/8/11
completed 9/14/11

So this was not inspired by a direct writing challenge, but rather a couple of conversations, and an email asking me when I was going to write about bacon. I took it as a writing challenge, and here it is. I hope you like it.

Reconnecting

Reconnecting

My sister in the testicle! March 10, 2005 To: "Heather" hzr@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com From: "Reilly" rlyboo@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com H. <3

That is too funny! It's good to know that I am not the only one that has gone through this. Testicles are not fun! Although, your last email made me feel a little guilty, so now I have a confession to make. I so did not get my testicle through spin class. That was just something I told the gynecologist so I wouldn't look so dumb. (Although I think it's obvious that I haven't been going to spin class.) A while ago my friends Rick and Stacy and I decided at the last minute to drive to Georgia to get lottery tickets. The jackpot was huge! Anyway, I was on my period and I was wearing tampons, and I forgot to take any extra, and we really didn't stop a until the way back. Anyway, the gist is I wore that thing so much longer than I should have and I think it was in wrong (I don't really wear them that often) because it felt like it kept sliding down. So I kept having to get a wet nap and, as discretely as is possible in the back of a Honda, try to push it back up. Rick and Stacy were laughing at me the whole time. I kept getting more and more sore. How could I tell a doctor I just met that? It is too humiliating.  Since I haven't had that gland removed, no more tampons for me! (or spin classes!) lol.

Hugs and Kisses!

R. <3

heidi
finished 9/14/2011 12:22 am

This needs expanding, but my son is having a hard time sleeping and I am finding it hard to type with a toddler in my lap.

The Beckoner's Song

The Beckoner's Song

Cain came to me
in dreams of loneliness.
Beckoning back yesterday
and her illicit easiness.

There is safety in old ways,
set, destructive creatures
that I know
want me. Desire me.

Rejection leaves my heart
bruised. An easy, ripe
fruit ready for the past.
For Cain.
And his sweet songs of security
that disguise my destruction
as I turn
and flee
towards
what
was.

heidi

08/26/92

Another one from years ago. I like this one too. It makes me sad though, so I think I need to work on something funny. I am looking forward to writing the next installment of "Reconnecting", and being the only person who seems to like it! Thanks for reading!

Goodbye

Goodbye

I never said goodbye

I didn't see the necessity

I long for just one more hug

One more smile

one more chance to be your sweet girl

I miss you more than I knew

I could miss anybody

and I wish you could have been here to meet my babies

Goodbye Grandma, I love you.

-heidi

i think this was originally written 8/2000

This one is for my Grandma. Sending out warm thoughts to everyone at the end of this sad anniversary. Thank you for reading.

Meme

Meme

the last time I saw you
  you were
    in a bed,
    tucked in.
you looked so small.
i brought you my baby girl.
you didn't recognize me,
but you liked seeing my daughter.
you stuck your finger from out of the cover
and
    held it out to her. She smiled and
  grabbed it and you smiled back.

a few months later, your body was in a box.
my heart was breaking and the preacher...
  was a dipshit.
i wanted to yell "Shut up! You don't know
what in the fuck you are talking about!"
then my sweet girl loudly crapped her diaper.
the women in the pew behind us giggled.
it was perfect. and i knew that you were laughing.

heidi

originally written 8/9/11

Yay! I have actually managed to publish a post for Saturday on a Saturday! This one is for my Meme.

One Day On A Bus: India

India

     This has got to be one of the worst days of my entire life. Doctor Graves never informed me that life could be this strenuous. Maybe I'll be able to relax when I get home. First thing I'll do is call Dr. Graves and ask him what to do about Harv. I'm not at all pleased with what he tried to do in the catacombs today. I really wanted to hurt him. Dr. Graves will tell me if my response was correct. Oh dear, the situation has become even more repugnant. Midge is trying to talk to me. I know Dr. Graves says that I should work on human relations, but she just reminds me of her husband. It makes me thing that they're conspiring against me. The husband tries to force himself on me physically and now the wife is trying to do it socially. Finally. We've stopped. This is my exit. Why did I tell her that I lived at the boarding house? Now she wants me to invite her over.
     What!? How did I end up her, on the ground, in this puddle? The bus driver tripped me! Forgive me Dr. Graves, but...ah. That felt better. I guess I should talk Dr. Graves now. He'll be most disappointed that I resorted to violence. I hope he doesn't decide to shut me down.

heidi

This was a part of a writing assignment that I had in a Fiction Writing class taught by Geoff Schmidt in either 1989 or 1990. We had to write about someone falling on a bus from different points of view. I kind of fudged the assignment a little, but not that bad. I am going to post these weekly on Fridays for the next month (maybe five weeks). You will definitely see the geek in me emerge as the story progresses. This is the sort of stuff that I really like writing, but I am having a hard time getting back into prose.

I wish I could find my old syllabi for some of those classes and redo some of the assignments to get me back into the swing of things. If anyone has any ideas for writing assignments, or resources that they would like to share, I would be most grateful. (Although no APA writing exercises...I am done with research writing for a while!) Also, if anyone has any challenges for me that would be kind of cool too. Like, maybe you want me to write a poem where the last word of each line has to rhyme with "Taliban", or you want me to write a one page piece about the color magenta. (okay, there are a couple of exercises right there.) And, now that I have written it and published it on the blog, it would be beyond pathetic if no one offered any challenges. Since I know my friends read this, I know y'all wouldn't want me to be all sad on the Internet!

Finally, happy two weeks! I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing and transcibing it ( I have a lot of stuff saved to a five inch floppy that I can't figure out how to access...any suggestions there would be nice too!)

Have a great weekend, y'all!

Bored

Bored

Bored.
I'm Bored.
Boredboredboredboredboredboredboredboredbored.
I actually decided to shave.
That's how bored I am.
I dug out my razor.
I blew off the dust.
I replaced the blade.
I got into the shower.
I lathered up and presto!
My legs and pits haven't been this hairless,
since my wedding.
Now my underarms itch,
and my hairless legs are weirding me out.
And I am still so fucking Bored!

heidi

originally written 8/28/11

I like this one. I think it's funny. I hoped you liked it as well. Thanks for the 414 hits (looks like we are slowing down some that I am not checking it from any internet location I can, on the hour. Thanks to y'all who are still reading and thanks to anyone just joining. I have almost two whole weeks worth of stuff here, so feel free to peruse the offerings. I am hoping that someone will chance by who likes "Reconnecting".

She's Still The Same Girl

She's Still the Same Girl

Driving to the office, I tell myself
Whatever they say, whatever they find,
she's still the same girl that she is right now.
You're not going to come home with a
stranger.
You'll love her the same.
She's still the same girl.

I am worried as I sit her in my lap and they prepare her for the test.
She does not like things on her head.
What if she fights?
What if she gets too upset?
Should I just leave with her?
We've gone this long
unsure.
We'll get tests later.
She'll still be the same girl.

Once again, my sweetheart surprises me.
She laughs when the nurse gets Eeyore ready first.
He's so cute! Silly Eeyore!
My girl sits still and even falls asleep towards the end.
I always seem to underestimate my baby.
She's so wonderful.
She's still the same girl.

Then we go and wait.
The doctor comes in.
It's not the news we want.
It's not the challenges that we wanted for her.
My baby.
My sweet daughter.
She is playing as we talk and I love her so much and...
She's still the same girl.

heidi
written 9/7/2011

I am posting this one late tonight. And where I usually say, "Please feel free to let me know what you think," right now I just want to say "You'd better fucking like this one! I sobbed the whole time I was writing it!" But since that wouldn't be a very polite thing to say to all of you who have been so kind as to follow the blog this far, I won't say anything.

Reconnecting

Reconnecting

You are just too sweet.
March 10, 2005
To: "Heather" hzr@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com
From: "Reilly" rlyboo@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com

Hi my sweet Heather!

That is such awesome news! I am so happy for you. I bet your mom can't wait. Things have been good here too. My new gynecologist is very sweet, and a mean mofo with a scalpel. She wanted to schedule a time to remove my gland, but that would mean two weeks off and, although she said it wouldn't leave one, all I can imagine is a huge hole where the testicle used to be. Seriously, it was so big and infected that she couldn't even do the examination! I have to go back next week to get all the other stuff done.  I very gingerly sat on the table and was listing to one side when she came in. She and the nurse both gasped when they saw it. The nurse actually said "Poor baby". Then they gave me a shot that burned, like someone was injecting napalm into my testicle. (actually, I don't know what that would feel like, but i bet it would hurt like whatever in the hell it was that she did) Then she sprayed something on the testicle that burned worse, and I couldn't stay still. I said, "I think you need to wipe that off!" And, she did! Then she did a "test poke" with something, and all I felt was pressure (OMG, I just got that I wrote my gyno did a "test poke"! Now I have that old Eddie Murphy, SNL skit "Caribbean Gyno" going through my head!) Then I felt more pressure and something liquid running down. I thought they were pouring something else on it, and then she said, "Do you feel that? No wonder you were hurting. All of that is draining from your gland." I moaned, and I swear the nurse gagged a little. The doctor then said, "Yeah, these things smell nasty."

So, I no longer have a testicle, but I am so very happy!  On the way out of the office (it was one of those complexes with all these doctors' offices in it) I passed someone it scrubs, while I was putting my hair back in a ponytail. She stopped in her tracks and said, you need to see a dermatologist about that mark on your neck as soon as possible. I asked if there was one in the complex and she pointed to an office. I thanked her, read the name off the door, and called my insurance. This doctor is approved, and I don't need a referral, so I went in and made an appointment for the first available date, which is in four months! We need some more dermatologists in this town! I want to ask someone about these sun spots on my face and this dandruff anyway. I walked back to my car and looked at my neck in the mirror, there is this big brown thing, that I have never noticed. It's probably just a big mole.

Anyway. My undercarriage feels so much better! No more spin classes for me, and no more testicles.

I'll write you later,

Reilly <3

heidi

written 09/05/2011

As you can tell, I like things that are so gross that they make me cringe a little. It makes me laugh (as long as I don't gag). I was a teenager in the 80's, I grew up on "grosser than gross" jokes. I think you may be able to tell where I am going with this little ongoing piece. It has me very excited!

Okay, I was typing this early for tomorrow, and posted it out of habit. I can't figure out how to pull it down until tomorrow, so here it is, early!

Groceries II

Groceries II
     (the checkout)

Finally.
Which lane do I choose?
Which lanes are open?
Which lane has a small enough line so the sweeties don't get too impatient,
but has someone who will give me time to unload all this stuff?
Here we go.
Heavy...Dry...Cold...Fragile.
Do I have eveything? Did I forget something?
Will you leave the two loose bananas out please? Thank you.
Okay sweetie-pies, I need to put those on the
conveyor belt. We have to pay for them.
Thank you baby.
Who wants a banana? Yay bananas?
Everything is checked on my list.
What did I forget?
What sweetie?
Yes, you're right, it's not a boo-boo, it's a penis.
Uh-huh, right. It's not a walrus it's a vulva.
Let's wait to talk about this some more until we are in the truck, okay?
What is it about the checkout lane that makes her want to talk about genitals?
I don't even want to know what the cashier is thinking...is that a smirk?
Oh sorry, here you go. Yay! I am $.52 under budget!
Thanks, you have a good day too.
Why does it still feel like I have forgotten something?

heidi

originally written 8/28/11



So, here's the second of the Groceries. I hope you like it. I still haven't written the third, but it is whirling around in my head.

Realistic

Realistic

My love hears songs at night
he nibbles them at my ear
and as I turn to him
my heart soars and I'm scared
as he takes me and makes me

realistic.


heidi

written 01/16/92


hhhmmmmmm, to be 21 again, and ask myself, "are you serious, or is this tongue-in-cheek?"

It's A Good Thing

It's A Good Thing

F abulous
A wesome
G orgeous
H ilarious
A nd
G iving

heidi

conceptualized over the last three or four days
written tonight.


This one kind of would not go away. I must be getting more timid as I get older because I really worried about posting this. I figured if I was that worried, then I might as well post it. It was inspired by the recent controversy at Hoover High School, and from a conversation I had in class one day about whether or not "faghag" was empowering or degrading.  I guess it's kind of obvious that I find it empowering. Just don't call me a fruit fly... I hate that.

Housekeeping

Happy Labor Day!

As you may have noticed, I have not been terribly disciplined this weekend. I am going to catch up tonight. I wanted to thank everyone for the 345 hits. Also thanks for the reactions, comments, and fb posts.  This has been a fun exercise so far. Please feel free to share this blog, and please feel free to offer comments and constructive criticisms. It is also okay to use the "what the hell" button, but let me know what are you questions. I noticed that my last housekeeping post has received more likes than some of my pieces, hhhmmmmmmm.

I also wanted to say that if you like fashion and/or aging, check out the "Advanced Style" blog. It's awesome!

Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoy the following posts.

heidi

Annie's Christmas Newsletter

Annie's Christmas Newsletter




Hello Everybody!

I hope that you all had a very pleasant holiday and a joyful New Year. I had a lovely time. I have spent a ton of time with Darnell, which is always good. I am still unemployed, and rather cool with it. I have been spending more time exploring my options. I also haven't forgotten my promise to share with you my experiences. So, I thought that I would share this lesson with you and offer some very good advice.

I know that at the beginning of the year it is customary for folks to make resolutions. And I thought that all of y'all may be wondering what should I resolve this year? Should I resolve to get in shape? Spend more time with my family? Get a better job? Make more money? Learn a foreign language? Take up Krav Maga and/or Macrame'?

All of these would be worthwhile and would help you grow as a person. However, I suggest that you resolve to rent an Indian Musical. (or catch one on TCM.) These movies, which I recommend watching around 1:00am on a Saturday morning, have everything you could want in a movie. Okay, they don't have aliens or ghosts or serial killers or mutated, pissed-off animals, and so I know that those of you who know me so well are at this point scratching their heads and saying to themselves "Well that doesn't fit Annie's criteria of a movie that you should watch."  And you would be partially correct my friends, oh yes, you would. But, you would be forgetting that I love to read a good movie. If you like romance (not sex, there is none of that business here, and very little kissing), and dancing, and multiple exotic locations, and a little mysticism, and men that can do a bang on imitation of a very large cat, and singing, and beautiful costumes, and strong commentary on tradition and love, then Indian Musicals are for you. The best thing is that you get all of this entertainment in a measly four hours minimum.  With that in mind, I would strongly suggest the renting option rather than waiting for Turner Classic Movies to air it, as TCM does not have commercials and you may need a pee break. I also suggest snacks, and that some of those snacks should definitely be fruit. I know around 3:00am , I was craving some fruit. I really wanted some grapes and some watermelon, and oh, pomegranate. Don't you love pomegranate? Isn't it lovely? Except for the stains, and that the seeds can get caught in your teeth, like strawberries, man I always get strawberry seeds stuck in my teeth even when I am drinking a smoothie (I recommend Caribbean Craze with the immune booster-no dairy and quite tasty) or maybe a strawberry fresh fruit slush from sonic (which i hear is rather pleasant with Vodka). So...

Okay. Yeah. Stock up on those snacks. Fruit is good. Oh! and, oh yeah, Craisins! Eat you some Craisins while watching the Indian Musical.  I love Craisins! Who would have thought that dried cranberries could be so yummy!  And good in a green salad. Just like pomegranates. Fix you a mixed green salad with some tomatoes and cucumbers and black olives and feta cheese and some pomegranates. You could eat that for supper before watching the Indian Musical! 

Well, it's been great writing to you. I hope that you enjoy the Indian Musicals ( I know that you will). And the nice salad, it's good.

Congrats this time to Friend Julia and her new baby girl. That's way exciting.  I am very happy for you.

Write you later!

Annie

heidi

originally written 1/2005

fictionalized 9/2/2011

First off, hey Mom! Thanks for following! I managed to find something older, that was also funny. ( I think it's funny) The sad part is that it is HEAVILY influenced by a real email I wrote. Some of it is fiction, some of it isn't, some of you who are reading will recognize it, what I changed. As always, thanks for reading, responding, and commenting. I also appreciate the fb posts and emails.

Words

Words

blah blah blah
write something...
write anything!
Do! Perform! Acheive!
you can be happy here
     -if you just find the
            right
                words.

heidi

originally written 8/9/11


This was the first thing I wrote when I decided that I was going to start writing on purpose again. I was going to post something older tomorrow, but I think I'm in the mood for something funny. We'll see how it goes.

Density

Density

As I wait for the approaching night,
yearning to be blinded by black.
I reminisce of old evils
done to me, without thoughts of remorse.
I am one with myself.

Myself, alone, my oneness looks black.
Back at a past of evils.
Medieval renderings of remorse
Force themselves through my mind, myself.
Self-painted versions of painful penance.

Penance in forms of whips, human evils
Vile happenings created to extract remorse
Worse because necessary for others, I confess no sin myself.
Self-made into what I am, I am the protector of penance.
Circumstances' victim allowed peace only at night.

Night, my only friend, accepts: does not demand remorse.
Course, uneducated commoners, though, yell to me to end myself.
Self-righteous martyrs. Unholy peons. Resent their penance.
Chance only lets them yell, without fear of pain in the night.
Light strips the True of their power, turning good from black.

Black tried to protect the truth, and only I, myself,
Self-taught, have been able to hide the light through penance.
Lancing the treachery, trying to return holiness to the night.
Fright of good kept infidels believing in the wondrous black.
Slack in their faith, they revel in numerous evils.

Evils I have spent my life holding down, through penance.
My stance strong, loved them I have through punishment for night.
Devils now persecute me, and want me to leave the safe black...
Lack they the knowledge. I am lonely in a land of evils.
Weevils eat at my soul, but for my love I feel no remorse.

Remorse I shall not, no evils have I done.
Black night falls, and the crowd leaves me to myself.

heidi

originally written 1990?


First off, hey Warren! Thanks for following, you're my most favorite ever! Now, this poem was written for my poetry writing class taught by Jennifer Horne in the early 90's. I have been very proud over the years that I wrote a sestina for that class, and when I pulled this out...it's not a sestina. It seems inspired by sestinas, but, nope, not a sestina. I still like it. At this point in my writing, I really liked writing poetry for the sound the words made together. I also really liked (and still do) weird, scary stuff. I think I remember what this poem was about , but I am also interested in what y'all get from it, from any or all of them actually.  Thanks for reading, thanks for clicking your reactions, and thanks for the comments! Have a good day!

Reconnecting

Reconnecting

Hey My Friend!!!!
March 3, 2005
To: "Heather" hzr@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com
 From: "Reilly" rlyboo@djflsbndfjvlnsvnji****.com


Hey Heather!!

I'm so glad to have found you online! I can't believe that it's been 25 years! Social networking rocks! I want to know all about you. What's going on, where do you live, all the details.

I'm good. I have just moved and I am getting married in October. We are thinking of going to Hawaii. I am so excited! I guess the biggest thing on my mind right now is that I have an infected gland and it looks like I am trying to grow a testicle! It hurts like hell and I have an appointment to see a new gynocologist this afternoon. I am not looking forward to it-there is construction the way to her office and the bumps hurt!I have to sit on a small pillow just so I don't list to the right. I was taking spin classes and I think that's what did it. It's an excellent reason to stop exercising, but I wouldn't recommend it.

Oh well, enough about me. I can't wait to hear back from you!

Smooches!
Reilly


-heidi

drafted 8/28/11
completed 8/30/11

Housekeeping

Housekeeping is the title I will use whenever there is some extra info I want to pass along, or any updates to the workings of the lasagna. (which kind of sucks now because I really want to use that title for a story or a poem.)

1. I think I have updated the comments section so that anyone may comment, without having to register first.

2. I opted for "moderate comments" so I think that means they come to me before they are posted. I am interested in keeping all the spam for myself (so yummy on a sandwich).

3. I enabled the reactions section, so if you want to provide some 5 second feedback, I would appreciate it. I am also open to adding any reactions that may be more helpful, just let me know!

4. For those of you who are in Alabama, AIDS Alabama has advanced tickets for "Wicked" on sale, when it comes to Birmingham. They have really good seats and they benefit from the spots they can sell. I think there may only be two days left, though.

5. The last time I checked, I was up to 153 hits, and although I am pretty sure that I am 110 of those hits, I would like to thank those of you who contributed to the other 43. I hope no one was disappointed when they saw the title and the adult content warining, and yet there were nothing obviously bigger than a lasagna on the posts. It only just now occured to me that it may all be misleading. So, I offer my sincere apologies to anyone who was looking for something a little spicier.

heidi

Last Love Letter

                                                                         
 Last Love Letter

 

My cousin was a year older.

He was the second grandchild.

He was the younger brother

I was the first granddaughter.

 

My cousin lived three hours away.

I saw him and his brother

only some weekends. Two or three a year.

He was a sweet, quiet baby.

 

When I was six, I wrote him love letters

on scrap paper.

 

When I was ten, he taught my brother

how to turn his eyelids inside out

that made me run screaming.

We played baseball with socks wrapped in electrical tape.

 

I privately competed against him.

 

He was a funny, reserved, young man.

He once wanted to be a store Santa

because young women liked to sit

in Santa's lap for a picture.

 

When I was twenty-six, he died.

and I forgot everything but the pain.

and a vigilante hummingbird.

 

I forgot his smile.

I forgot his laugh.

I forgot his wit.

I forgot his love for his nephew.

 

I forgot.

 

I would have traded anything to have

 him back.

To hug him the last time I saw him.

To Tell Him I Loved Him.

 

And I cried

         cried

         cried

         cried

         cried

 

Tonight I found some pictures. 

 

And I remembered:

 

How he was sweet

How he loved his nephew

How he was funny

His desire to be Santa

My notes

Baseball

The woods

Football

Hawaiian Punch

Hot Chocolate

Puddings

Hide and Seek

His eyelids

His smile

Him.

 

and i cried.

 

heidi

                                                                         originally written:3/13/97

 

This was one of the few things I wrote when I wasn't writing. It was for Ronnie. I really like this poem, although it made me bawl while I was typing it for this post. So much so that my little girl walked up to me and said "Mommy, you are crying. Let me hug you." Hope you liked it. (Also I spell checked this one. I noticed too many typos in "Thank You".)

Thank You

Thank You

How do you thank someone who saved your son?

The words never seems to be big enough.

Thank you for feeding my baby.

Thank you for your kindness.

Thank you for your generosity.

Thank you for how effortless you made it seem.

Thank you for the pain, the hassle, the expense, the inconvenience.

Thank you for his health, his development, for every ounce. Everyday I have with him.

I love you isn't big enough. Thank you isn't big enough, but it's what I have.

Thank you.

heidi


This is dedicated to a dear friend of mine.

Groceries

Groceries
  (the ride home)

Alright sweet boy,
let's get you in your seat.
No, in your seat.
Sit down,
Sit down,
Sit down.
There's a good boy.
I know, I know, Mommy's being mean.
Okay sweetie, your brother's in.
Let's get you in the truck.
Here, help me lift you out of the cart.
Now stand, okay, put your foot there-
no there, there! sweetie.
upsydaisy!
Now whose heinie is this in my face?
Let's get you in the truck. Watch your head!
Oh! I'm sorry sweetheart, are you okay? I'll kiss it.
There's a girl.
Okay , who wants juice boxes? Yay juice boxes!
Here you go sweetie. Here you go sweetheart.
Okay- the buggy is corralled.
Damn it's hot.
Let's start this up and turn on the AC.
Phew! That's better.
Y'all ready to go home and eat some lunch?
Oh Shit!
Did I turn off the tea?
Is the stove on?
Oh shit the stove's on!
Damn red light.
What if it's boiled down?
How long were we in the store?
Crap! TWO HOURS!
crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap
Comeoncomeoncomeon.
What if the house caught fire?
What if I have burned down the neighborhood?
I just bought all those Courage cartoons on iTunes!
Shit! the computer! Shit! The Dog!
Please dont' be on fire.
Aw come on! Another light?!
Please don't be on fire.
Sweetie, who taught you the diarrhea song?
My house is on fire and my little girl is singing about runny bowels.
When you're sliding into first and you feel a juicy burst...
Okay-good-i don't see any smoke.
Here's the neighborhood...still standing.
Here's our house.
No fire in sight.
Stay here kids, Mommy will be right back.
No smoke in the house, but the stove is on.
Now it's off, (big sigh).
Oh damn, I bet that tea is ruined.

heidi

listen to ‘Groceries’ on Audioboo

Hey!

Okay so the discipline got off to a weak start. But I am going to leave two posts this afternoon. Now if I could only find an exercise that comes with childcare....

The Beginning

I am starting with a poem I wrote for a class a long time ago. It's my favorite and the only one that I have reread from that time that didn't make me laugh for the wrong reasons. I think that after this post, I will start with the piece and put any commentary at the end. I also hope that I haven't infringed on any copyrights.


Love

"where, oh where
are you tonight?
why did you leave me ,
here all alone?
i searched the world over,
and thought i'd found
true love.
you met another,
and, tthpt,
you were gone."

     -that "Hee Haw" song-

How many licks does
neatness take whilst squishing
feet through Mississippi
moonpies falling on me?
     Love.
(is strange)
Love is (my Toyota) a tree that
is a million (a mil. 5) years old
that is (like my reflection on this kitchen tile)
a "sight" and that dies (because i
didn't use a Sears Diehar...) the day before
you get there to see its
     Opus asks "Can a picture go 'tthpt'?"
or something like that
And I wonder, i wa, wa, wa, wa, wonder.
Cause that's the way (uh huh, uh huh).
As Warren Always says,
Are you really drinking a beer w/Jesus?
     Or is that a sin? Ister in Heaven or
down, shoo be doop da, down down,
(in history-Sir Issac)
comma, comma, down, down
below.
     Seduction is just a state of mind (gun on the wall) and
Love ain't just a dream?
Dream.
Dream Lover.
Dream Lover, wherefore art thou?
Deny the rose and refuse
Refuse.
I Dream of Refuse with the light Rose love. (hair? do?
hair-do?) comma, comma, down, down,
down.
     shoo be doop.
     uh huh, uh huh
Hee-Haw
tthpt.

-heidi