*insert random boring text here*  What has been happening?  Well, let’s sum up the past six months in one paragraph or less.

My son starts high school and is doing well when my daughters best friend shoots himself in the head just after school starts.  She plummets into a depression as I start a new job that doesn’t pay me until November.  I find my biological father and my daughter downs a bottle of Tylenol.  At this point my son starts skipping school and doing drugs.  His grades drop 30 points.  Daughter gets out of hospital, thinks everything is all better and Christmas comes.  New Years goes, back to school, kids balanced?  Until son gets kicked out of group home because of belligerence, drug use and abuse.  Son comes home for a week to try to make things work, breaks down intentionally because he wants to live on his own at 14.  Moves to another group home, stays out all weekend then rushed to hospital with methamphetamine, amphetamines, cannabis and MDMA in his system.

But ya know, it doesn’t all seem so bad when I write it all out.  However listening to Elbow – The Fix is definitely helping.

right now

all I want to do is write. It’s been the longest and least productive day ever. all I want to do is write and go home. I hope the biffle has a bottle of red open. I’ve never been so glad to have 4 days off. Perhaps I’ll be of mind to write more later.

word slut

I love words.  I have a few favourites…

vituperate – to use or address with harsh or abusive language; revile. (like my son telling me to go suck myself off)

slubberdegulleon – n archaic – a slovenly or worthless person; villainous (Tom Robbins describing the CIA in Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates)

pejorative – having a disparaging, derogatory, or belittling effect or force (the word ‘cunt’ comes to mind)

It’s been started.  The book, that is.  It’s been started and now the research will begin.  Grants, writing, insane travelling to places that will frighten me.  I may need a bodyguard.  No joke.  Especially for the one place I may need to see.  Is it possible to extricate oneself from their writing?  Lester thinks my idea is worthy of a Palahniuk comparison.  It scares me and that is the point.  My friend Brian says to push my boundary.  That is the point of art.  How far can one push themselves and society?

Today I read an article with Michael Turner saying he felt The Happy Hooker by Xaviera Hollander would never be published in our time.  I haven’t read the book yet but I would think our ‘time’ is much more lenient and desensitized.

Tonight will not permit me anymore time for writing.  Perhaps I will adorn this or another post with more verbiage in the morning…I bid adieu

breaking

It was you who woke me this morning.  Your hand cupping my breast, slightly pinching my nipple.  My fingers clenching yours as you whispered “You’re not allowed to pinch back”.

For once, your warm body snuggled close to mine.  My fingers pinched back, waiting to hear your voice again.

Yes, it was you who woke me this morning.