Thursday, December 29, 2011

Half a Beat

No matter what can be said about politics or the economy, I have to say 2011 was a year of learning for me.  I know we are always learning, but never have I been so aware of learning such major life changing truths, life-changing at least for me.  The most important thing to me, that has affected my life more than anything, is that you can never know another person.  Your perception of that person is what you think is knowledge of that person, but it has nothing to do with who that person is. And that is fine if you are comfortable with your perception and comfortable with your own take on who that person is. I think the reason it was such a big deal for me is that it involved a long term relationship I had that went by the wayside. I felt not that I didn't know who that person really was, but that she had no clue what so ever of where I was coming from or why I thought the things I thought or said. Forty years of fakery as far as I am concerned. Then, when I was pretty much through rebounding from that, the knowledge helped me get through a huge emotional upset in my immediate family.  So now, I will just take it all with a grain of salt and not let it affect the way I live my life.  Partly, that is easier because of the point I am at in my life.  I would be on the shrink couch every day had this happened when I was 22.

Then, we went to take holiday pics of the new baby and her brother and I sat there the whole time thinking, what does that guy do for a living, why would she marry him much less breed with him, he looks like he has a bad smell, that baby is funny looking, they should wait and take his picture when or if he gets cuter, why didn't the mom fix that girl's hair first, gee, that kid's voice is loud and high pitched, why would you put that same hideous sweater on all of your kids for a life long memory of a holiday, my grandson is so f-ing handsome, mom better hurry up and give him the facts of life talk cuz  they are gonna be all over him in a year or two, my granddaughter is so cute, even when she glowers, oh, my god they must hate my daughter, she is so pretty and her kids are the only cute ones here, and Cassie looks so cute in those jeans.  Is this perception or reality?  I no longer know.  Or perhaps I don't trust my judgment anymore having made such huge mistakes about people throughout my life.  I am doing some work on my third book and I wanted to get these two people together and I was having a heck of a time figuring it out.  But now I figured it out.  If you love someone, you just love them.  Even if it's your deluded  perception. That's why God invented that special kind of pain that goes with love.

I like the show Bones.  More than I like the books.  I suspend belief.  The relationship between Booth and Bones is so cute.  No, it is totally bizarre and unrealistic actually, but I love them. I am so glad they are together. And right the head of the lab would wear THAT dress to work in a path lab.  But it is one of my favorite shows.  I rent the dvds at the library. I play catch up on On-Demand.  I tried to watch a new show with a similar theme.  Forensic medicine is  huge lately. I don't recall the name but Dana Delaney is in it and I heard it was good.  Every single meaningful glance, "How will she respond to this?"  "How should I respond to that?" went on a beat too long. The characters could have been computer generated.  I hated it. And, who knows, maybe it is great.  Maybe it is my perception.  There was this actress.  She was the Charlie girl, and then they tried to make her an actress, (I won't say her name).  They even gave her her own series. One of those algorithms telling them where the money comes from I guess.  Every word out of her mouth was a half a beat off.  It drove me up the wall. I saw her in a little bit part on some police procedural drama, and she  had improved.  Or my perception had changed.

I got a great review that was just the kind of language I understand. "Crazy good read." Which is exactly what I write, y'know?  And then I am nosing around today and someone on Apple gave me  one star cuz it jumped all over the place.  Umm, no.  It is totally  linear,time-wise, age-wise, story wise.  And who cares,their loss,  they missed the nursing scene and that great blizzard and some other good stuff.  But I clicked to see what else they had reviewed and they had given five stars to the app for ordering pizza from Pizza Hut.  So it is always nice to have your pride and conceit taken down a peg or two and realize the company you are in, who you are sharing that bookshelf with.  At least I have to be glad it wasn't a three star pizza ordering app.

I think the only way you are going to get read is if your work gets to the people that perceive life in a way similar to yours. So far they are few and far between, but, God, how I love them. Cuz they get "me".  My ex-friend didn't. My husband doesn't. But someone did.  So now I don't have to die with my song still in me. Someone heard this little bird.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011


Do not try that new Blogger interface.  It is AWFUL.  Stats are unfindable.  It took hours to get back to the original which I found by accident by clicking that little gear picture.  Panic. . .

Blog Hop

The boxing day blog hop is going on yet.  Just scroll down a few entries to the links.  It won't hurt.  I will go back and check the ending days.

Self Censorship

I didn't cave into a censor.  I considered his remarks and decided he was right, that the Christmas cartoon might seem in bad taste to many, so it is gone.  Still, folks, remember.  I am really tired of hearing that Yes, Virginia joke.  

Monday, December 26, 2011


Bad start to the day with emotional interchange about visiting my grandson. He's here and all is fine.   Then:

Four star review from Barnes and Noble:   "Crazy good read".

 Bipolar overload

Jenny is one bipolar crazy woman. She climbs into her best friend Barney's window as a young teen and begs for him to teach her about sex but it leads to a connection that neither of them can ever let go of even through marriages and children. While Jenny will always love Barney, she loves her actor husband Daniel too and they all have to learn to live with her actions and her condition. Crazy good read but after 600+ pages, the ending seemed kind of abrupt.

That's 600 Nook pages, guys, so don't worry. Sort of a series  And everything works out for all my guys so better keep reading!!.  I couldn't be happier with this person's choice of words.


Here are the links for the BOXING DAY BLOGHOP.  You should find the link to the next one at each site.  There are puzzles and giveaways.  My giveaway link is posted at the bottom of this list.  I am a novice at this so I hope it works out well for all of you and I hope you had a wonderful Holiday.  Thanks for stopping by.

14. http://bullprotettoremurdermysteries.blo...

I am giving away a free download of SACRED SIN. It is available until January 15, 2012.
Here is the link!

This is a modern love story with  some explicit content.
reply | flag *

Saturday, December 24, 2011



Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Indie Publishing--an Analogy

(Loudly blowing horn. . .)

I'm an "Indie Publisher".  That covers a lot of ground:  self-published, Kindle, Smashwords, Indie Press and others.  It was a combination of impatience and snobbery that led me down that path.  I don't even fit the amorphous indie model.  I write street language, infidelity, God dropping in for an occasional remark or two.  But it's good.  It's light, fast, fun, irreverent, sexy and not dirty.  I don't think a good BJ scene has to be dirty, with a lot of slobbering,  romantic over-the-top description of the penis,  submissive behavior, and a bossy guy to be realistic or good or sexy.  I'm probably one of  a very few that can write a sexy BJ scene that is nice.  Lora Leigh's are f-ing scary.  Rate 'em.

And then when the rejection letters came filled with poor grammar, misspellings, missing words, (fill in the blank in their form letters where they could not bother to fill in the blank) and obvious signs that they never looked at the work, well, I love you, Betsy, but fuck 'em.

So a new track ball on the desktop pc, a new laptop, and an illness have kept me away from my creative endeavors and I have been watching movies. Last night I fell asleep watching Teeth which was about vagina dentata and sucked, which I realize is an oxymoron. But, when I woke, I was wide awake and it was quite late so I surfed Starz On Demand, and started to watch The Cleaner. Did you ever hear of it? I haven't.  Samuel L. Jackson, who has been in some turkeys, but was doing an excellent job of being Samuel L. Jackson, always his best role.  That beautifully aging fox, Ed Harris.  Complex plot. Little straggling octopus threads grabbing you right off.  Good subplot with Jackson's daughter, not thrown in, important, interesting. You know how in Transporter Jason Statham goes up to the wrought iron gate of the manse and it's what's her name --Amber Valletta?-- and it rates him a huge cardboard statue in the theater lobby?  Well, Jackson goes up to the wrought iron gate and it is Eva Mendez doing her usual wooden Barbie thing, but being very beautiful and just interesting to watch, but no cardboard statue for Jackson.  Alicia Silverstone as Jackson's office manager looking better than she ever did, (needed a little more of her acerbic commentary here).

So here's my point.  They have algorithms.  And Alvin and the Chipmunks gets the play, the licensing, the press. Pirates of the Caribbean--you see how much those fucking Legos cost.  Cleaner gets shit.  Probably went straight to Video.

I write The Cleaner of love stories.  Lora Leigh writes the Alvin and the Chipmunks or The Transporter of love stories. Harlequin Press has its algorithms, probably constructed by the same programmer that said Alvin and the Chipmunks would make millions.  I walked the walk.  Alvin didn't. We can't fit any agent's algorithm.  Too bad for them.  A couple of four star reviews by strangers that indicate they actually got what I was writing tell me I did good.  Maybe not for the fans of The Tortured Love of the Troubled Duke or Alvin, but good enough to appeal to the same people that surf for a good movie to watch--and occasionally find one. Maybe not great, but good.  And enjoyable.  I got more than 900 downloads from Barnes and Noble for my Lawman freebie and 21 of those people bothered to rate it so far, and some were four stars. I can still walk the walk. Pay attention to my name.

I am feeling waaay better, and I told you you were gonna get it.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Stuck in the Middle

Just don't forget, guys.  Lawman doing well on Barnes & Noble and Sony. Inching along on Amazon, but still alive.  SACRED SIN doing great with freebie at Smashwords.  I wish I knew something about marketing trends.
The Maze is for sale at Amazon, but I am working on an edited edition. Can't put links as I am not home.  Hang in there with me okay?

Wednesday, December 14, 2011


Louie bought me a laptop computer for Christmas.  Louie bought me a laptop computer for Christmas last year.  We could not get on the internet or do any thing with it, so it was all "blamed" on the local wi-fi connections and the router we were using and it went back to the store.  It was unusable.  So THIS YEAR he bought me the exact same one Cassie bought because she took it out of the box and got everything up and working in about ten minutes.  We were not home when she did that.  That is, I was not home, and, more importantly, LOUIE was not at home.  A zillion years ago Louie's profession was going into banks and putting all their operations on computer.  Mind you, at that time, the computer took  up a whole room and had to have a special humidity and temperature controlled environment.  Sort of like back to the Jurassic period computer-wise. Therefore, he considers himself the know all end all of computer operation.  This can be visualized as the guy in the phone kiosk at the mall explaining an Android app to Alexander Graham Bell. So, he has been sitting at the dining room table for one and a half hours and he just gave up, saying it had sent him into outer space and he didn't know what to do now.  No.  We will not PAY the geek squad to come and help us.  It will go back to the store.

My only option will be to buy one on the QT and sneak it in the house when he is not home and have Cassie take it out of the box and set it up for me.  Meanwhile, I am doing fine on this old HP.  Just now he asked if the first part of our phone number was 265.  Jesus save me.

Think I will rustle up my vintage housewife pic.

Friday, December 09, 2011

Free download.

Another Freebie

SACRED SIN is available for free download from Smashwords until 1/15/12. It is a modern love story, somewhat racy.

This can be downloaded to any device or to your PC.

The free download of LAWMAN is over now. 

Getting Noticed

Wednesday, December 07, 2011


I am thunderstruck.  My world has tilted on its axis.  This is partially due to the shit load of codeine that I am ingesting and partially due to the fact that I discovered something today called the affiliate sales site on Smashwords.  God bless Barnes and Noble.  Long may they prosper.  I have a new outlook on life, on my work, on me.

I hope I still have it when the antibiotics and the codeine are gone. 

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Giving In To the System

I gave in and went to the dr. and got antibiotics and some lovely, dreamy, special cough syrup.  I know I was being stubborn but I have had enough lectures on "It's a virus.  Antibiotics won't help it."  Actually I set the galleys on that book for Contemporary Press.  So I waited the whole twelve days.  Viruses are supposed to go away in ten. So in a couple of days you are going to get it from me big time, and I'm not talking about my cold.  The thing is, you slack off a few days and the attention just fades away.  What is wrong with you?  Where do your loyalties lie?  When I am needing you the most, where are you?  You know how bad this was?  Louie folded my laundry for me.  Forty seven years that took.  Please.  A cool cloth and a few There, there's is all I ask. I've been so good to you.  Well, except for that little fire I started on Mises.  That did distract me a bit.  They know about loyalty at least. 

Thursday, December 01, 2011

Another Freebie

SACRED SIN is available for free download from Smashwords until 1/15/12. It is a modern love story, somewhat racy.

The free download of LAWMAN is over now. 

Monday, November 28, 2011

Philosophical fun with the flu

I'm sick.  I will be better before I get to read through ALL your messages of sympathy so don't send one.  Buy my book instead.  But I have never been so philosophical about illness and I wonder if it is age-related or what.

Last week I felt like every muscle in my body was complaining as though  I'd gotten/I got out of a risen   I rose from a wheelchair and ran a marathon.  And, no, that is not politically incorrect cuz if I didn't have surgery eight years ago, I would be in a wheelchair.  Then Thanksgiving was its usual depressing downer and I woke up Friday feeling sick.  I mentioned to my daughter that it would be interesting to know what the germ does in your body to make you feel this way and she offered me her Pathophysiology text.  Okay, I am not that interested.
So I've just been sleeping and reading a lot and taking so much medicine.  Benadryl and guiafenesin and aspirin or ibuprofen plus the usual daily six pack (not beer, for God's sake.)  And I would have an English muffin (which I fork-split) just because I thought my stomach could not bear the chemical assault, but then I would feel like I was going to lose that, small wonder the chemical stew in there.  And my mind feels fine, but is really racing, more than usual.  I think the pressure from the sinuses causes this.  I offer myself as test subject. And today Fran wanted to do secret shopping for the kiddos and I wanted so much to go along and look at toys and play with the Fisher-Price pianos and stuff. So we go Panera and Toys r us and she swings through the ATM lane which is half way back to my house and I said, maybe you should take me home cuz I don't feel so good.  I get out of her car and I STAGGERED.  You know how people always use that word and really what does it mean?  I staggered over and leaned on a tree then staggered to the porch and leaned on the door and got the door open and leaned on the wall and  slowly staggered up the six stairs. I am sure the neighbors think I had a three martini lunch.

What is being "sick"?  It doesn't hurt.  It's just like weirdness and a different feeling in every cell.  I don't even have a fever. And they say 'that song is sick' and it could mean it is great or horrible.  "You sick bastard!" is definitely negative but frequently said with a laugh. Well, it's a good reason to rest up and slack off and make people go buy you popsicles.  And I am almost finished with a little mystery book that popped out of the bookcase at me that was published in 1968 and is actually pretty good.  There's a right moment for everything.  So, back to my book.  I'll be fine tomorrow.  Which is what I thought last night.

I was dabbling with the Kindle last night or afternoon, it is all a blur to me, and I was reading my own book, which I do all the time, and I noticed I use the word GOT an awful lot.

Today's CTA:  what is your favorite flavor popsicle?

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Thanksgiving Oatmeal

WARNING!!  This is a complete downer.

I have these pictures when Fran was about three and it is my dining room on Elmwood and this long dining table and this huge turkey and this beautiful tablecloth and Lou and Fran and me.  My parents were in Florida having their Turkey dinner at the rec hall and enjoying the hell out of it and you didn't have to wash dishes unless your state was on the social committee that month which happened every 52 plus months because a lot of the people lived in Canada. And everyone else in my family and in Louie's family had something better do to.  Actually, they don't like us.

So this year I took the leaf out of the table and the dining room is a little smaller on Hazelwood and it will be Lou and me and my dad, because after my mom died, my dad didn't have anyone to have Thanksgiving dinner with and Fran married into this huge close knit family and we are like the wrinkly old people that scare the little kids.   I bought the smallest Turkey in the case and I was invited somewhere by someone nice, but I got this terrible haircut and kind of didn't know what to do with my dad, and Cassie doesn't know if she will be home in  time to sit with us and I thought Louie had to work, but he doesn't, so at least he will be there, otherwise it would be me and my dad.  How fucking pitiful is  that?

But the one that sticks in my mind as the quintessential Thanksgiving day celebration was the year that I gave birth to a six pound stillborn baby boy on November eighteenth and was told I had to buck up and go to auntie's in Glenview for Thanksgiving dinner.  And in those days no one acknowledged that you might be feeling grief or sadness and God forbid you should show it and it was cold and drizzly and we are driving out there, me bleeding and breasts aching, and we see this horrible seven car pile up on the Interstate and they are shoveling bodies into ambulances and we get to Auntie's and I get a big hug and "How are you?"  Seriously, auntie, what the fuck do you think?  I commented that I wasn't feeling too well yet (faux pas in those days) and we saw this horrible accident on the highway and she says, "Oh, today, you have to remember all that you are thankful for."  No.  I don't want to.  And I really should get over it but that is the clincher, like the only parade you will ever remember is when the huge balloon broke free and killed that little boy.

So, you know Google Plus and how it is a huge pain in the neck?  Well, I think it saved my life today.  They had this riff from The Oatmeal about Thanksgiving and I laughed out loud about four times. Thank you Francesca for cluing me into The Oatmeal.  And , everyone, have a happy Holiday.  I love turkey and I make the best gravy in the whole fucking world.  Your loss.

Straightening things out.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Friday, November 18, 2011


I have the Style Guide thing all worked out and I figured out how to load non Amazon stuff on my Kindle.  No.  I didn't figure it out.  I figured out how to follow someones perfectly explicit and clear  directions.  So, obviously, I have no more barriers in the way of my getting on with publishing my book and a half, and, obviously, my head is spinning with thoughts that need to pour out.  You can't stop me from pouring them out. Just don't read them if you don't like them.  If it will make the inside of your head feel better, you can even delete them.  But, I am warning you, that would be a mistake. Anyway, this whole rant is a stall and a waste of everyones time.

The  theme of today's discussion is tattling.  If you were ever a mom, you know the painful dichotomy of trying to teach  your kids not to be a tattle tale and having the burden of knowing they are aware of something horrible going on that they are afraid of telling because they don't want to be a tattle tale. These bits of knowledge may run the gamut from Joey taking that dime that you left on the dryer after it fell out of someones jeans, or he let that horrible little boy down the street ride his bike and that is why it is broken, but after all, he will man up and take the blame because you already told him  not to let that creature ride the brand new bike, and he cannot possibly tattle on the horrible creature.  First of all it would be tattling, and foremost, the horrible child would maim him for life.   Somewhere along the line, most children learn to determine that it is a necessity to tell your mommy that you saw Mr. Jorgenson burying his wife under the birdbath and you should just keep quiet about the fact that your sister puts lipstick on as soon as she is half way down the block.

But not everyone gets to this place in their life.  I was standing at the service desk in WalMart, waiting to send the latest multi thousand dollar money order to my lover that  lives on a small Greek Island when a woman came in and CUT in line, her mission was so important.  She gave the description and license numbers of several cars in the parking lot that had ignored and/or disobeyed the handicap sign regulations and she demanded that the service desk commander, already stressed because she was alone and eight people were already waiting  in line, call the local police immediately to come and cite these people for their malfeasance.
The service desk person began to look about for the telephone book, muttering how she didn't have the number at hand and couldn't this wait while she took care of the other people ahead of her, and the parking space troll said it had to be done immediately in case the people breaking this law left before they were properly chastised and made to give up a portion of their time and their personal fortune because of their sin and "the number is written right here on your desk blotter because I saw it there yesterday".  This is the woman's hobby.

Before I got my new prosthetic knees and it still hurt to walk, I nudged a shopping cart up a little with my car so I could fit into a space closer to the store and the shopping cart rolled into the corral for carts that was directly in front of the space I had chosen.  A woman saw this and circumnavigated the lot  so she could drive all the way back to tell me she didn't think I should do that because the cart corral deserved that space also. By this time I had left the car and was walking toward the store and exaggerating my crippled hobble for her benefit.  I said, "Call the police." and went into the store.  She may have been the Wal Mart parking lot troll and I just caught her at shank's end of her daily forays.

My neighbor's children raised a few chickens, maybe five, for a 4-H project.  They built a maze type structure for the chickens to play in which extended into my yard.  One of our more observant neighbors reported us.  The police showed up at my house.  I blurted, "but they are Miller's chickens".  The Millers, eleven years later, still refer to this as me reporting them to the police.  At least they are being facetious.  I hope.

I made a half joking remark on a thread that I didn't need to be on, one never does need to be on a thread actually, about how I had cheated on the NaNoWriMo contest (if you don't know what that is, leave well enough alone cuz it is stupid) by posting a novel I had finished writing months before.  I was called out for my moral turpitude and lectured on how that would destroy my character and tarnish my legacy, if I was not already beyond hope, which they pointedly remarked, I must already be.

I was discussing the variety of resources one could access when making or buying cover art for their self-published works, and I mentioned that one image I used was gifted, three were purchased and one was stolen.  I got  the lecture about copyright law and how someone would come after me.  What?  Are they going to confiscate my royalties?  Good luck with that.

Then there are the times when you (at least I) sit and mull about how you let so and so get away with such and such, and how one person you know sues anyone and everyone for anything and everything, and the only thing I can come up with is something my mom said.  And I am not given to quoting bon mot from my mother because she was not too big on that, preferring the Martini as a coping mechanism; "Mend your own fences."  Which, I will translate for you, my beloved readers, "Mend your own fucking fences, asshole."

Today's provocative, dialogue inducing question: Do you even have a fence?

Thursday, November 17, 2011

It Happened Again

When you do this indie publishing thing, you(I)  hear from so many people that are so opposed to it.   I, personally, am all over the map about is this whoring?  Is this frustration?  Is this vanity?  Is this a need to enlighten?  Is this a waste of my time and other's time and space?  When the gauge by which you judge yourself is so palpable and undeniable as actual dollars or actual printed words, it is so easy to let yourself be wracked by self doubt.  I think this is normal.  I don't think I am particularly more or less filled with self doubt than any other Joe Shmoe.  And I already discussed being a Joe Shmoe and being accepting of that. And I totally feel that putting your words and thoughts out in the public eye indicates that there is a lot more going on than self doubt.  And then you get a random review from a random stranger and you are jubilant.  Not so much an ego thing, that they Like you, like Sally Field, but that the words they chose indicate they get what you are saying.  This holds far more meaning for me than having someone say  "Your style is so fun or amazing, or ridiculous, or convoluted, or strange, or  stupid, or hideous."

But then you are kind of noticing a person, and identifying with their doubts and their struggles and you go so far as to compliment them and try to encourage them and buoy them up a bit and thank them for sharing with you, and then you read something, and it is like Holy Shit.  This sucks.  This makes no sense.  I can't follow this.  My sophomore English teacher gave me more props than this will ever get.  This is fucking hopeless.  What do you do?  I know what I do, what I will do, what is the only comfortable path for me.  I am going to fade out of the scenario.  And I'm gonna wonder.  Self doubt?  Apparently I have none.  Apparently there is just a certain blindness people have.  Apparently people that love me want me to just stay in my cloud of self-delusionment for fear  of hurting me (which never seemed to bother them before) or robbing me, in my final moments, of my last thread of hope.. . Or apparently I can write.

And, you know what?  I will never have an answer for that. 

The Pain of Knowledge

There was some cowboy sidekick guy that was always saying "You young whippersnappers". I am doing my doctoral dissertation on the origins and underlying meanings behind that phrase and its usage.

It was a chilly, drizzly, windy day in North Suburban Chicago, a place where everyone knows we have four nice days a year.  The doorbell rang.  An unusual occurrence causing  the dog to freak.  Spellcheck picked up three errors in that one sentence.

It was AT(&)T Uverse salesmen and we welcomed them into the foyer--a  lovely warm room.  They went on and on to my spouse.  I kept interjecting.  I finally introduced myself into the conversation, introduced in the sense of inserting, not in the sense of saying my name.  I stated that it was my decision since it was my portion of the allowance and my name on the account and I was ready to say yes, BUT. . .

By now one of the youngsters was sitting on the staircase, as was I, and a third lovely young lady had joined us.  She was carrying a Glock 27 with gold engraving  on the butt and shot the dog.  Just kidding.

I asked a few questions like would I still get STARZ (Are those peni on Spartacus prosthetic?  This has yet to be answered.) (No.  I didn't ask the salesman that.  Really, now. . .  Why would you even think that?)  and how long was the promotional period and it soon became time to initial documents which I was prepared to do since they had assured me they were not contracts, but simply payment agreements.  That's a new one, huh?  At one point the young man answered a question I posed and I said,  "Yeah.  But you might be playing me.  You kind of look like you are."  He was classically dumbfounded.  Or at least the expression on his face indicated that. Someone had to pick up the conversational ball that he dropped at that moment. 

There was quite a bit of banter about our incredible age and their incredible youth and local dialect and what it was like to live in Riyadh, even for short periods of time.  And I said, "Okay, but recently I was discussing things with a local resident and she mentioned that uVerse was supposed to be the best but we couldn't get it in our area."  The young man had earlier reassured my husband that they had surreptitiously inserted fiber optic cable under our driveway, at which time, while the theme from The Twilight Zone played softly in the background, I bit my tongue so as not to embarrass my spouse who actually worked repairing engines in Nuclear submarines and actually installed fiber optic cable under the Chicago River.  I was dismayed that he was buying that story, but I know men of his age frequently have minor neurological events that can impair their thinking processes.

As a sort of reply to my comment,  the young whippersnapper sitting near me in the stairwell shook a bundle of papers at me and said, "Would we be out in this weather if we didn't already have that information?" in what can only be described as a snippy tone.  And she showed me our address on one of her pieces of paper.  Now  my spouse was clearly biting his tongue--I knew this cuz blood was flowing down his chin--(just kidding again) because I frequently embarrass him with my outbursts of knowledge that he thinks I manufacture on the spot since he knows I wouldn't be married to him if I had a working brain cell. So off they went into the unpleasant weather, glowing and congratulating each other for another job well done, another sale they closed, another success story to last them the rest of their lives.

Three days later, my husband played back a few voice mails.  We do this once a year.  There was a message from AT(&)T stating that uVerse was not yet available in our area, but if we called them in a few months maybe they could help us. Once again, fuck me.

I have found that most bloggers end their blogs with a provocative question, probably to encourage commenting and continued social intercourse.

How do you slice an English Muffin?

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Postponement and Apologia

For  those of you that have entered these hallowed halls eagerly anticipating the thrilling cable saga, I must apologize most humbly.  I am unable to present it this evening.  Please do not hold this against me and let me plead for you to continue your disproportionately appreciated patronage.  I have a wonderful reason.  It is valid and not to be mistaken for an excuse.

The part of my brain that exudes philosophical thought has swelled up.  It hurts and I plan to take a shitload of drugs and ice it.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The Big Reason Why

Concerning the madness that is the current state of the publishing industry:

I should not be bothering.  People are BUYING, with apparent intellectual deliberation, apparently with actual money, books about whales that live in the center of the sun.  Fuck me.

First of all, how would you get close enough to the actual sun to determine it had life forms within it, and then how would you be able to navigate through the corona of blazing hydrogen in order to communicate and interact with the creatures you there discovered.  And, if any type of life form was able (were able?) to evolve under the conditions that exist within the center of  the sun that must be rather horrendous considering that the end result is a corona of blazing hydrogen, why would that life form be a fucking whale.  Seriously?

And B, why would anyone choose to interact with that life form if they did happen to be able to transnavigate the possible hazards of entering and hoping to exit a blazing hydrogen corona. Were they hoping to gather information that would be useful to them the next time they choose to discover whether or not it would be possible to enter the center of an object in space whose corona was perhaps blazing nitrogen?

And last and least, why would anyone want to write about such an unlikely combination of specific threads?  I am thinking taking those little poetry magnets off the fridge door and shaking them about in a plastic jug and allowing seven of them to fall to the floor which would then become the title of your next literary masterpiece.

And then again, WHY would someone want to read about it?  I am sure the person that entered the sun was the same person who owned the derelict salvage hauling space craft that contained the cargo of eggs which held embryonic, almost ready to hatch, male sex slaves with two peni.  Fucking big eggs I imagine.  Either that or really tiny male sex slaves with therefore tinier peni, explaining in a logical sort of way why he had to have two of them.

This is a BUSINESS that people sit around and form marketing plans for, and discuss, and go to school and pay a lot of tuition money to be accepted in the world of publishing. But then again, considering what is going on around me, tomorrow the cable tale, why would I expect anything other than complete insanity?  And why do I worry about what is going on inside my head.  It beats the hell out of what y'all are trying desperately to pass off as reality.  

Monday, November 14, 2011


(No, seriously.  What is with google?  The whole frigging thing just disappears?)

I do not understand how universities and colleges can create Marketing curricula.  It all seems entirely random to me.  I post just to be posting what seems kind of a run on of blather, and it receives WAAY more hits than the one's I deliberately plan and promote.  Why?

I am so sick of uploading or downloading pictures and  manuscripts and style guides, I just want to never do it again and think I never should have started this because it is like dope.  "Today I'll only take two of those and one of those.  Whoops!  They are all gone. Where did they go?  I wish I never started with them"  And looking at stats and comments is EXACTLY like counting how many xanax I have left.  At least to me.  Maybe you are healthy or something.

And checking to see if the late night or early morning flashes of literary brilliance have made it from the little orange Mickey Mouse notebook into the proper manuscript.  The last MS I uploaded was so full of errors.  Thank the powers that be that I am now a freaking expert on how to edit, search and replace and upload new versions in matters of minutes.  (Put it on your Kindle and make the notes there.)  And at least and at last, it is up, and actually sold already, but I haven't put it on Smashwords because for some ungodly reason the guide stored as individual little jpegs and it would take hours to find anything so I have to remember how I did that before so I could just keep it minimized on the desktop while I work. And I am absolutely thinking what a waste of these last few precious minutes I have on Earth and why am I not waxing floors or doing something someone might actually appreciate (what exactly would that be?) when I look and see there is a huge bump in sales.  Why?

I am absolutely at the place where I am calling the characters by the wrong name.  Or, honestly, forgetting what name I gave a character. I swore I would stop at four.  I couldn't imagine getting any more ideas to run with since I don't know where the ideas ever came from in the first place, although I am pretty sure it is because of the change in meds. But, lo and behold, or not, as you choose, there I am at two in the morning doing three or four thousand words on Jenny's first marriage. Why?

Did you ever google yourself?  Do you think that is a sick thing to do?  There are 63,000 entries under Virginia Llorca.  There is a twenty one year old girl in North Carolina named Virginia Llorca.  How the fuck could that happen?  I have stressed promoting that as my brand name cuz I thought it was so one of a kind-ish.  She's probably getting all my royalty checks.  Where else would they ALL be? 

I swear to God and the gods, if I see one mention of the word ennui in anyone's blog this week, they are gonna get it.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Notoriety and Personality

I have always wanted to be me.  I think I have discussed this before.  I had a friend in high school who wished fervently she was a male.  She never had any of what may be called gender issues in actual fact and turned out to function just fine as a wife and a mom, and I think it was more of a comment on the way females were considered by society at that time.  And, no, you don't need to know what that time was.  But I have always been happy to be me.  I have been depressed and embarrassed and angry at things I have done or had to deal with, but I am definitely the person who knows the truth about the saying, "If you could trade your bag of troubles for someone else's, you would always pick your own."  And, lately, I have put myself out in the public eye a little more than I have ever done before, so I should expect more feedback, both negative and positive.  But something really weird happened.  I am moderated out of a certain discussion group automatically.  I have participated in this discussion group for a long time, but always on a very limited basis, and it is true that my avatar may be considered in poor taste by some and that may be the reason. Although it was never the reason before.  But, I am the first to tell you, I am failing in many respects due to health issues, and one of the first things I notice, and I am sure others noticed it long before it became apparent to me, is the deficiency in my short term memory.  I know this is perfectly normal and I am not too worried about it and do the crosswords and stuff to keep the synapses firing, but still, I feel, even admitting I am kind of an ass, my basic intellect is still with me.  Maybe not as easy to access.  But I don't think I have become "stupid".  I mean every one is stupid about something, right, especially if they are in love, but I haven't lost the ability to think and figure out stuff.  I honestly think I am moderated out of this discussion group, damn, I wish I could say who it is, no, it's not Mises, and damn, I wish you really could give a shit, but I think the person who writes the column cannot deal with my remarks. I think they do not know how to deal with it, or counter it, or whatever, and whether or not it is relevant to the discussion, my remarks are never argumentative.  They can always be classified as comments.  Well, I just thought it was interesting, especially since it has come on the heels of my learning that twitter works.

And a very successful writer used this phrase in the very successful writer's blog recently, ". . .  where you can get it at."  This is supposed to be Midwestern, specifically, some believe, Chicagoan.  My sister in law teases me about it cuz I say like:  "are you going with?"and it creeps into the every day language, especially if you have not spent much time out of the Midwest.(Me.) But I thought, for someone who has sold many millions of words and therefore 26 million more letters of the alphabet that this was kind of glaring.  I know everyone could use a good editor, and, briefly, I was one, and even editors miss errors.  And I put stuff like "y'all" into my sentences frequently, mostly cuz it is so convenient a construction, and, for God's sake, my own, very bright and highly educated daughter says "sangwich", Jesus, but I thought this one really popped out.  And it bugs me how some people are in the right place at the right  time even when they may not be the person that should have been in that right place at that particular right time.  So I am jealous.  A certain work of my own literary aspirations has been downloaded 104 times in the last week, and I maybe just kind of want to work that into the conversation, and how very sorry I am that it was for a free offer and only about one percent of those people are willing to pay real cash money for said work. And I am totally thrilled to get the word out, by  any means, and I am getting pretty damned whorish about that part of it, but, whatever.  Professional jealousy comes with the territory.  I just hope certain people maintain their humility in the glare of their fame.  Oh, sure, that's what I mean. Really.

And Delaney got her ears pierced today and I cried more than she did.  Is it that wrong of me to consider that her good nature is genetically anomalous?  

Monday, November 07, 2011

Hugest compliment. Hugest thank you.

Someone gets it.  How lucky I am.

Review by: Sue Leonhardt on Nov. 07, 2011 : star star star star 
I received "Lawman" by Virginia Llorca through the Goodreads ebook giveaway.Can two hearts make time for each other, with their busy lives, and make it work? This is a fast paced fun read about a young widow and a Government "operative". He tries to keep the needed secrecy of his job from interfering with his hoped for relationship with a willful young widow. Lily Scofeldt is a 24 year old widow with two preschool children living in Iowa,and agent Tim  Raia is also divorced with a 13 year old daughter living in Chicago.These people never seem to get out of bed. Lots of quickies.I laughed when Tim left her house one time and said" Thank you sincerely for the hospitality".This book is light entertainment. Easy read but it shows the deeper side of what it takes to commit to a relationship, second time around.

Saturday, November 05, 2011


Someone put up the most super negative review imaginable about LAWMAN on Goodreads.  I must be getting good at this cuz it gave me a chuckle.  She said one line (which she quoted incorrectly, and which I admit, was one of my better ones) was "exquisite".  So I'm going to do like they do in the movie ads:

Review of Lawman in Goodreads:  "Exquisite."

Friday, November 04, 2011

Sweet Sex in the Shower

EXCERPT from The Maze


“We shouldn’t talk.  We shouldn’t talk about it.  It’s getting dark out.  We didn’t have dinner.  We should go get dinner.”


“Shh.”  She got up and walked to the shower and she had to go past two beds and across the room and he was stunned.  Where was he?  Why were they here?  Why was she with him?  How can someone’s ass look that perfect?  And it moves when her legs move.  And it’s so cute.  The way that happens.  

And she turned to go into the bathroom.  Her breasts barely move when she walks.  They fit her so perfectly.  That is just amazing.  Everyone else’s breasts are way too big.  That is exactly how they are supposed to be.  How come I never noticed that before?  No.  I noticed it.  I was just afraid to think about it.  Those other breasts were the only ones available.  I am really glad I finally got to see the right ones.  The perfect ones.  She let me touch them.  She let me make love to her.  We had sex.  She made love to me.  I. . . 

He walked into the bathroom and got into the shower with her.  This must be a nice hotel.  This is a beautiful shower.  And she lathered up her hair and she lathered up his hair and she soaped up her hands and ran them over her body and between her legs and then she took the bar of soap and rubbed it in her hands until they got all bubbly again and she was chuckling softly.  He kind of thought she was smiling out loud again.  She ran her slippery soapy hands over his chest and under his arms and down between his legs and she washed him.  He stood under the most wonderful showerhead in the world in the most beautiful shower stall in the world with Maisie.  And she washed him.  And then she took the spray shower and rinsed all the soap off him and she pushed him down just a little bit, but, really, he thought, in a very gentle, encouraging kind of way, so that he had to sit on the ceramic tiled bench that was so beautifully constructed into the side of this wonderful shower and she knelt down in front of him and took his penis into her mouth and her mouth was even warmer than the shower, the most wonderful mouth in the world, the most beautiful mouth, Maisie’s mouth, Maisie’s lips, Maisie’s tongue, and wow, even a little bit there with Maisie’s teeth, and he thought, I’m dying. I’m dying.  Oh, my God.  I’m dying.  And so she sucked the last little bit of life from him.  But he didn’t feel dead.  He felt so happy.  I’m so happy. Maisie makes me so happy.  She lets me touch her.  She makes me come.  She fucks me.  She blows me.  I am the happiest person in the whole world.  The world is so beautiful.  God must love me.  I hope I never wake up.  “Here.  Here.  Please.”  And she was holding his hand and forcing it between her legs.  Forcing him to touch her there.  “Please.”  She was begging him to touch her.  Honest to God, begging.  I should touch her like this.  She will like it if I touch her like this.  Oh, God.  I’m getting hard again.  I love to touch her here.  I think she likes this.  And she said, “Ummm.”  And she lowered herself onto his cock and rode off into that wonderful empty distance and he followed her and he was so glad.  So happy.  I hope I never wake up.

“We have to get dinner.  I’m starving.”

Thursday, November 03, 2011

Second Thoughts

Remorse?  I put  up an excerpt from book three and then took it down.  I was ticked because it didn't make a wave on twitter.  Then I notice ten links from twitter.   I am an ass.

I am hating the mood swings lately. Usually I know enough to go with it and get what I can out of it, but I usually know the precipitating factors.  I had to take my MS down cuz I saw (on my beloved Kindle) that it was awash in typos and an actual MISSPELLED word.  I wonder what else is in there that I didn't notice.  but I was so nervous about re posting.  Kindle tried to do a one up on the Smashwords Style guide and it got me all anxious.  I just did it the old way.  So I was nervous about that and now it is done, so I guess I feel like this because I dealt with the source of the anxiety, but I would prefer to feel like this at nine a.m., thank you.  Then maybe I'd get that kitchen floor done. And I know the book was full of errors cuz I am so not into it anymore.  One person found one typo in the first book.

I want to go outside and shoot that satellite down.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Sort of a Series

The third novel of mine, THE MAZE, is up for review on and should be available Tuesday evening.  This is good news for me as series type stuff is supposed to sell better, but about eighty people have read the second book, LAWMAN, and about twenty have read SACRED SIN, so I think the series potential is kind of lost out there in no man's land.

I love this book and had to end it the way that was  comfortable for me.  I am looking forward to hearing about how everyone else thinks it should have ended. I was so nervous about it for some reason I do not understand.  I hate the techy stuff and ended up putting up a cover that I decided on at the last minute.  I have no idea if it even matters.  It looks pretty nice actually.  When the sale on LAWMAN is over on December first, I will put SACRED SIN on a special promotion.  By then I should be ready with the fourth in the sort of a series. I know everyone who has read SACRED SIN or LAWMAN will want to read THE MAZE.  

Thursday, October 27, 2011


I have nothing to say.  I am restless and bored and feel no interest in anything.  So just move on .  

Nothing:  I realized at some point today that there is only one reason women buy cosmetics or go on diets, or get hair cuts, or brush their teeth or work out, or go to school, or be polite, and, if any of us care to go on a rant about how we are not really shallow, really go to school and dye our hair because of our self-esteem, and that nothing and no one can cause us to ever feel that we are anything but the most  distinctive individuals and we truly have come a long way, baby, consider that this finding is based on a life-long but very casual study of and interest in anthropology, combined with various opinions and knowledge about the effect of the basic structure of DNA and the complete unchange-ability of certain genetic characteristics that form our character and therefore anchor the most basic components of civilization.  This is the reason:


And, personally, I feel it is also the reason we get away with being so bitchy and it is also the underlying cause of every war ever fought.  I think a high IQ, though perhaps nice,  is a stupid benchmark, representing nothing, only giving some people something to tether their opinions to, and I freely admit, and have done so here on previous occasions, I am a  very shallow, very vain person.  But there are certain laws Mother Nature put into effect for a reason, and this photo is clear illustration of one of those laws.  And I know none of you can argue with me about this. It is also the reason I write fiction.  Very enjoyable fiction. 

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Just Hanging Around, Waiting. . .

Anyone thinking about it, the free give away thing is a REALLY good idea.  27 downloads in 24 hours.  Too bad they don't BUY it at that rate.  Hopefully, someone will mention it to someone, etc. . .  But it has other side effects.  Besides a bump in blog hits, I actually had someone link to this site through Smashwords.  I was kind of thinking I was wasting my time there.  So now I am all fired up.


Sunday, October 23, 2011

Okay. I Am Sorry

I have heard the coupon doesn't work, so the price for LAWMAN is zero until December 1, 2011.

I apologize for attempting to be clever. That never did work for me.  What was I thinking?

Friday, October 21, 2011

The Opposite of

I have been feeling well.  I worked on putting the Christmas lights on my Hawthorn tree.  I know it is early days, but I was so in love with it last year, I vowed to repeat it and to start when the weather was more mild.  I would be fine with leaving it on all year like Italian restaurants are allowed.  Every single time I would drive by my property at night I would feel gladness to see it.  Anyway, I enjoyed it and made some decent progress and the weather was wonderful.  But I had to stop sooner than I wanted to because every time I came down  the ladder I got all woozy.  A little wooziness doesn't bother me.   I used to go to great trouble and expense to artificially create that feeling. But I am a little too old to be hopping about on my prosthetic devices and had the wisdom to stop.  Only after I noticed each time the wooziness became a little more pronounced.

Then I worked on the cover pic.  I give up.  I will use the one I am not too thrilled with.  I need to get on with this.  If I improve it, replacing it will be no big deal.  Then I proofed a bit and found some hilarious errors.  I changed a few words but no ideas.  I like the "wrap-up" chapter and I was a little worried about it seeming corny.  But I have heard it is the usual for the genre.  I am getting so artsy fartsy serious about this project that started out as a little off shoot of my madness. The worst thing that can happen to a person is to start to take themselves too seriously.  Seriously.

So I have been sitting here a while, played a Big Fish Game, slow but decent art, so I persist, and blog surfed.  My hands are starting to hurt so it is almost nighty night for me.  BUT.

I have gone on this huge rant at least twice about having my ideas copied, and have placed a huge emphasis on the word SERENDIPITY (it being the subject and perhaps cause of the rant.) , to the point where even I am sick of the sound of it.  But weirdness happened tonight and I actually went to to find out what would be the antonym for serendipity.  The best they could come up with is volition and that is not in the park where I am currently playing.  Serendipity is when you happen by chance on good or pleasant things.  What is it when you happen by chance on a whole string of incredible downers?  Blog surfing can be bad for your health.  You know how they group them on Blogger?  Like a bunch in Spanish or a bunch about photography?  I came upon one about the still birth of a baby.  Twelve seconds to click onward for that one, thanks.  Then a lovely young man had a whole blog devoted to his suicide, and these, no kidding were interspersed with advertisements about funeral homes, a story about what life held in store for a recent graduate of a school of funeral science (or what ever the fuck you would call that)  and a story about this historical cemetery that is falling into ruin and it was sold to a concerned care taker.  (Well, more than twelve seconds on that one.) I think the reason my hands are starting to hurt is I was too quickly clicking through these.  I wonder what kind of day the Google employee was having when he worked on that category.  Anyway, it was a stupid way to end a nice day.  And I'm not going to turn on the TV cuz last night I watched that whole movie where you don't realize George Clooney is actually dead until just the second before they roll the credits. (Have you noticed that the very handsome George Clooney has a VERY SMALL typically Irish nose?  Do you know what that means traditionally?  So sad.)

Well, I started reading Bret Lott's "JEWEL" this afternoon and was caught up in it, but I don't think I am going to continue with it tonight. I wish I knew where I could chance, serendipitously on something on the order of the "fucking yogers", or at least find that little corner in my mind from whence  that arises.

Geez.  I hope you are not reading this at bedtime.  What is WRONG with me?  And I honestly don't feel really depressed about this.  I feel kind of silly.

Down, down, down, the mountain.     

Sunday, October 16, 2011


Today I am going to talk about this wonderful new brand of make up I bought and tried out.  No, just kidding.  Do you know there are actually dozens of blogs on here that deal with nothing else but makeup and cosmetics?  They feature carefully lit photos of bottles of nail polish and open jars of greasy gray stuff that are there so you will want to run out and buy them.  Yeah.  I need some gray greasy stuff to put on which part of my body?

The thing is, two days ago I had the busiest day ever on my blog, with more hits than I have ever had before.  It was nice.  But here's the part I don't get.  It was one blog post that brought it in.  Why?  None of these people knew each other or told each other.  I had more views of that post and more comments than I have every had before.  How does this work?   I did no more promos than I ever do for anything I wrote, and yet, there they were.  If I had that many sales in one day, I would be over the moon. It couldn't even be like a grapevine as the people were too disparate.  It was almost like serendipity or happenstance.  (Oh, crap.  There I go again with the damn serendipity.  Blog land will be full of posts using the word serendipity this week.  Just watch.)

And today I came crashing to the ground.  Being up a few days ago just made the fall farther and more painful.  I have a brother who bought my book.  (I have another brother that didn't buy my book.)  He said he was very impressed with the characterization and the background, and as he read he tried to think of what might have happened or who had I know in my life that inspired some of the stuff.  But he couldn't finish it.  He  read 24% (he showed me on his Kindle) and he CAN'T read anymore because it is like a "chick flick".  I cannot imagine that, if I can sit and read a blog on on whether or not it is correct or possible to copyright intellectual property and comment on the article and get into a discussion with an economist about the anthropological reasons why open sourcing will not eliminate aggression, that my own brother cannot get through  this easy to read, dialogue driven, light hearted piece of fiction just to see if maybe his sister uses any of his personal history in her story.

I have tried every thing I can think of to promote and tried a lot of things suggested by people in the "field", and nothing works.  I love this book and the people in it, and real humans just do not want to read it.  So where do the people reading my blog come from?  I mention my book in the blog sometimes, but no sales have come from that.  I cannot get from the one idea to  the other. Well, I am going to put up Book Three and Book Four.  Maybe even do that Print on Demand thing, and just die undiscovered and unappreciated.  Because I just want to do it.  Way more than I want to strip and recoat my damn kitchen floor. Or experiment with cosmetics.  I have nothing to lose. That's an easy one if you start out with zero credibility in the beginning.

Friday, October 14, 2011


When weird things happen and people react, they often say, "Is it just me. . . or. . .?"  Now I know.  It's just me.  No one else could be this clueless this long.  My grand daughter twins live here.  Dan would rather not be here.  She wants to be with her friend Jess, but Jess currently doesn't have a home to share with Dan.  Her mom told her last month to go fend for herself, so she is staying with a "friend".  Even so, Dan stays there frequently.  But her "stuff" is here.

We have three cars.  The Ion was almost solely for the  twins use since Fran got married.  It needed new brakes.  For over a year Dan said Miguel would fix them and the parts were $20.  This never happened.  Then Dan moved back and a tree fell on the car.  She has a job.  Cas nannies for Fran and is very much needed for that, so it is a job also I guess.  Anyway, when we got the Ion storm damage fixed we had the brakes done and new tires.  The storm part was insured; the other over a grand. Mind you, this is now our BEST car since it is ding free and has so much new stuff.  I just prefer my Buick.  When I can drive.  If I can drive.  But I think I told that story.

Tonight they walked in with their friend Jess and asked if they could take the car to drive to New York for a concert.  (We live on the Northern edge of Illinois)  These are the same people that came home with two German Shepherds a while back and expected me to go for that.  Basically that is why Dan doesn't live here.  And Jess's mom made her get rid of the dog.  But I couldn't. At that time, rather than stay with the tyrant Claudia, Cas gave up her dog and moved back here.  Dan and her dog lasted a few more months.  

Tonight, they could not actually even ask me about this.  Cas said, 'we have to talk to you about something' and then the three of them gestured to each other to pick up the conversational ball and roll with it.  No one did so I said 'you are not taking the Ion to New York.  Try the bus. You ruined the brakes and tires, didn't pay, blah blah blah."  The strangest part of this is that they  were so dumbfounded I refused.    I told them the only reason they have a roof over  their head is because their sense of entitlement and lack of accountability are inherited from their mom and dad.   I ended up refusing to discuss it further.  STFU was basically the way I put it. Along the way I mentioned how they never bothered to say 'if we pay for the brakes and tires can we use the car?' and Jess, uppity little bitch, says "We were going to bring that up, but you said no right away."
During the course of  the entire conversation, mind you I said 'NO' before they even had the courage to ask, the subject of them putting the wear on the car and not paying for repair came up about four times.

This (and the dog issue) falls into the same category as Lisa (their mom) calling me 3 weeks after my mother died to ask me how much money my mom left.  I know she was champing at the bit trying to let a graceful amount of time lapse.  And grandpa Llorca asking me whose fault was it, me or Louie  when my baby died of RH problems (so long ago, and NO, I can't let it go) while I was still in the hospital. To say nothing of the various and sundry other misconceptions I get screamed at for.  Misconceptions--there is a word I should study.

 Is it the look on my face?  Is it the way I talk?  things I say?  I know my voice lacks impact, and maybe that is why I scream and curse so much, but this is just the way I am treated.  I do not fucking get it.  I feel like I am totally a person who does what she wants, and you can go piss up a rope if you don't like it.  Maybe I give in too much, but some of this shit, they have to know it's not going to fly.  Some guy  said (TO ME) he asks every girl to have sex with him cuz sooner or later one will say yes.  (I didn't)  I think it must be like that.  I am no namby-pamby.  When my husband was out of work, I managed to support him and three kids for  years. Is that something I should have refused to do?  Would things be different if I had refused?  Yeah.  I'd be married to that asshole, Charlie.

When Lisa was evicted from her hard won HUD house for abandonment, I said to the case worker, "Where did I go wrong?"  And she said every single mother she talks to says that. 

Some days it is just so fucking hard to remember what part of my life is good, at least that I can actually take credit for.  And I have to fucking TAKE credit, cuz for absofuckinglutely sure, NOBODY is going to give it to me. Buy one of my damn books would ya?  Be a pal.

                                                                    COVER GIRL!!!
                                                        MY NEXT BOOK:   THE MAZE

Tuesday, October 11, 2011


Confession:  This is something I do not keep secret.  Sometimes I am guilty of using it as an excuse, or even as a reason.  This is not  nice, but I forgive myself for lots of stuff.  I take enough crap from enough people to balance out my few sins.  God said He is cool with that and the thing that I do not keep secret and use as an excuse is a gift from Him, so we have a comfy little circle going.  I am bipolar.  I am mid spectrum and don't lose it very often now that I am pretty well and correctly medicated.  I was diagnosed when I was about 32.  It was during an awful period of upheaval in my life, so I have always taken the diagnosis with a grain of salt since it seems it is apparently only a problem when I am pushed to the edge by stress or some other straining effect.  (Not that I don't have to deal with ups and downs, sometimes to an absurd extent, but doesn't everyone?  ) Plus every one in my family is a little out there, so it's not like I'm an exception or anything. And none of them are the type of people that even notice your peculiarities much less cut you any slack.

So.  I am feeling all warm and fuzzy because some of my writings got a bit of really nice feedback.You guys have to be careful with that stuff because the slightest word of encouragement can drive two novels out of my brain on to this little plastic screen and often off to various parts of the world in various electronic forms. None the less, a little validation is nice every now and then.  And, frankly, when  you live in a home where  everything you do is automatically considered 'wrong' by certain people, just because you did it,  it is particularly nice to hear compliments.

Then.  Let me back up a little.  I recently, so recently that the scab has not yet fallen from the wound, ended a very long relationship with my closest friend.  I ended it not because she criticized or disagreed with some of my thoughts.  (How boring is it to have a conversation with someone who totally agrees with everything you think or say?)  I ended it because she used some very hurtful words and chose to broadcast it over the net to everyone in my mailbox and God only knows who else, and, further, enlisted some of her family members to join her army on the battlefield to wage the war against me.  

Then a dear, greatly loved family member jumped all over me because of something I said, and have said repeatedly about my relationship with the Supreme Being.  (Add personality of your choice to define that according to your personal tastes.) This person did it kindly,and privately,but I cautioned him that I had to hold my beliefs in a way I found comfortable and that because I loved and admired him so very much, it would be better if we didn't have discussions on that topic.  We dance around it occasionally, but we honor the parameter that has been set.

So.  Yesterday, another family member got WTF all over my ass about something that they THOUGHT I did.  (Is it not clear to almost everyone who emails what that peculiar code is that ends message links that are spam?  I am so non-techy, and I can recognize it.  I get such things from a friend and a relative very often, and I ignore them.  They are mailbox viruses, and they will always be with us, much like the Salmonella bacterium.)   The fact is, that this is the third instance of what I consider "attack" that I have dealt with recently and I am fucking sick of it.  Just because someone does it through email does not make it any different to me than walking up to my front door and standing on my porch yelling at me.  And when it is done through error and the person who is so QUICK to attack cannot find a way to apologize or explain, I am fucking furious.  Today, I actually asked my husband to go through his SENT box to see if he had perhaps sent the offending email, and when he assured me it was not there nor in any of his mailboxes, I was, once again, reduced to tears over the matter. And, I don't do this shit.  And anyone who knows me, should KNOW that.  I do not think, if I am perhaps, but not likely, in a capricious mood, send or say truly nasty stuff to be cute or to hurt.  (Google:  hurt feelings).  I may forward one of those eCards that frequently fall short of good taste.  And, I remember, I did actually do that on this person's last birthday, so maybe this is payback.  But I do not go all postal on someone dear to me unless they literally ask me to (by my definition).  I DO go all postal on loved ones. Believe me. Or ask them.

But they earned it, let me assure you.  And this particular person and I had discussions previously on how we should not discuss Snopes or politics or certain other subjects because of our philosophical differences.  And that he implied I did it with deliberation?  Can't get my head around it.  Don't even want to.

I have enough real shit in my life to deal with.  I don't need people to manufacture crises for me. Don't  ever take it for granted  that someone "knows" you.  They don't.  They probably don't even know themselves. They know someone that they think is you and it may have NO bearing on who you are.   I am tired of being batted around and compelled to defend my self and my miserable little fiefdom.  Unless there is a reason for  it, like writing or saying naughty words for example.  Carefully label all your stones before you throw them at me.  Then at least I know why I am being hurt.

Yeah, I know.  More mixed metaphor.  Deal with it.

Thursday, October 06, 2011

The Spectrum of Bitterness Part Four

It is so much easier for me to write when I am ticked off.  I am trying to be reasonable and tell my self there are only 26 letters for us to use, so when I read something that I think was my idea first, I have to think about the infinite number of monkeys with the infinite number of pianos that eventually play Bach.

Then I have to tell myself that maybe that person who wrote the scene lived through something similar to what I did and had the same sort of reaction to it. I can be really fair about that one because, although I have done and lived stuff other people have not, I am by and large just your ordinary Joe Shmoe.  I am positive Joe Shmoe had some incredible high points in his life, some incredible situations that seemed troublesome and unsolvable at the time but were still the most enormously exciting parts of his life.  He just didn't bother to write about it.  And I hope that every Joe Shmoe has their "peak" to remember so they can have a little smile on their face when they are sitting in that rocker on that front porch.

I feel the need for a balance sheet, perhaps an incomplete balance sheet, but totally inspired by the passing of Steve Jobs which has definitely affected my ideas about life and death.  He left an amazing legacy.  That is all anyone can ask.  And when you are 94, you are not doing much to amplify, beautify, or in anyway, enhance your legacy except maybe making people tired of hearing about it.

Average blog writer:
"I am married to the most wonderful man.  We are still as deeply in love as the day we met, in fourth grade."
I've been married a really, really long time.

Average blog writer.
"My amazing children are gifts from God and I adore them.  I can't imagine life without them. My husband is such a caring and amazing father."
I should have had a hysterectomy when I was thirteen.

Average blog writer:
"I dedicate each day to the Lord knowing that no matter how things work out, I am living in His name and I can survive with His guidance."
"Jesus, cut me a break will ya?"

Average blog writer
"That which does not kill us will only make us stronger.  God never gives us more than we can handle."
"You have to be in the right place at the right time.  You have to play the hand you are dealt."

 Average blog writer
"My dog/cats are like family to me.  I am so grateful for them and they deserve to live the best life they can. Why just today Poopsie did the most adorable thing to the back of my couch."
"I am going to end up in the hospital because of this fucking animal."

Ah, me.  This is a beautiful warm, crisp Autumn day and the leaves are just starting to turn.  My autumnal decorations on my entryway are gorgeous.  The little speckle of golden glitter I placed on the leaves of the wreathes gracing my front doors is just perfect and catches the afternoon sun in the most attractive way.  I am so glad I did that.  Now I am going to lunch with two of my favorite people in the whole world, Fran and Ben. If I am lucky the adorable Delaney will be along.  So fuck the whole world.  I rock.