“Advice to Myself,” by: Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes.

Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator

and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.

Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.

Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup.

Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins.

Don’t even sew on a button.

Let the wind have its way, then the earth

that invades as dust and then the dead

foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.

Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.

Don’t keep all the pieces of the puzzles

or the doll’s tiny shoes in pairs, don’t worry

who uses whose toothbrush or if anything

matches, at all.

Except one word to another. Or a thought.

Pursue the authentic — decide first

what is authentic,

then go after it with all your heart.

Your heart, that place

you don’t even think of cleaning out.

That closet stuffed with savage mementos.

Don’t sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth

or worry if we’re all eating cereal for dinner

again. Don’t answer the telephone, ever,

or weep over anything at all that breaks.

Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons

in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life

and talk to the dead

who drift in though the screened windows, who collect

patiently on the tops of food jars and books.

Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anything

except what destroys

the insulation between yourself and your experience

or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters

this ruse you call necessity.

Options…

Today is a new day and the options are endless. I believe my love has diabetes yet she refuses to get tested. I know she’s scared, heck I’m scared a lot but this is important to me. I went to the doctor for her, without hesitation, without a question. Yet when I asked the same of her this morning, she flat refused, with no reason given. I do not understand. She has grandchildren too. Wish she could see how important this is, how I don’t want my feelings negated, how powerless I’ve let myself become. I am someone. I am valid.

My heart rises and falls,
in breathless anticipation
of your next move.
Will you choose to live,
or leave without warning.
I can’t comprehend
the incomprehensible.
I am strong
but I can’t fight your fight.
I have lived,
I have learned,
I know now;
I can’t save the world
and I can’t save you.
Why should I continue
when you obviously don’t care?
Suddenly my insignificance
wells up into my eyes,
cascading down my face,
my fears falling on deaf ears,
needing you so completely,
if only to satisfy my own heart’s desire.
How oh how I wish you needed me the same.
But then again
maybe you have unused options
that I know nothing about,
seeing as I’m only human.

Uh oh…

Well, for anyone out there who might be listening / reading this, I think I’m about to be exposed.  My girlfriend suggested last summer that I write a blog, and apparently so I have.  The Uh-oh is that I never told her; I think I mentioned it in the beginning but we were busy, working, family, grandchildren, etc. and I never followed up the conversation and neither did she.  Then out of the blue a couple of days ago, she sends me a link for some writing contests and asks that all-important question, “Have you written anything lately?”  Well, not really, unless you count this blog.  Which I didn’t mention and I don’t know why. 

At this point, insert a pause because I do know why; I have no idea if I’ve written anything in here that might hurt her.  I don’t think I have but she is a woman after all and we’re a moody crowd.  Some days just about anything is enough for a few tears.  I’m not well known for my tact and well, frankly, I’m a little scared that I might have vented about something that might hurt her feelings somehow.  God knows we do not need a set-back in our relationship.  I think by this time she knows that she is THE only woman in my life and, for once in my life, I’m happy, content, not looking around to see who might be looking at me.  I know that sounds improbable but it’s completely true.  For once I have no desire / no designs on any woman but her.  She is that true love I have waited for.  Egad, look how mushy she makes me.  *sigh* 

So, crowd of mine, friends that I don’t really know, as well as any strangers among you, do I confess and send her a link, or do I wait it out and see if she discovers this alternative life of mine on her own? 

Lori, if you ever do read this, I love you; this blog wasn’t about you, it’s about me.  It’s my past in a nutshell.  It’s my attempt to make sense out of things that have happened to me, that continue to happen, etc.  It’s my way of processing and remembering, my way of putting it down before I forget everything.  Yes, there are stories with other names in them but I’ve only shared those to establish who I am today.  They are most definitely my past.  You are my present and my future.  I think I can say with some certainty that 100% of any erotica is fiction and any names used are simply because my imagination couldn’t come up with a different one apparently.

Anyway, anyone out there, give me strength, give me advice, tell me I’m a cad if I am, tell me if I’m wrong, if I’m right.  I’m so afraid of hurting this gentle soul that I love so much.  And if you know how to delete this, tell me because I can’t figure it out; yes, I’ve looked.  Color me challenged, while I change my name to Uh-oh.

She never knew.

She tossed her hair,
and smiled at me over her shoulder,
and I melted inside.
But she never knew. 
I sneered some off-handed comment,
faked a laugh,
and walked toward the door,
almost trembling.
But she never knew.
The oxygen had been sucked
from the room, and
my lungs strained,
gasping,
for a breath of air.
I rounded the corner,
and leaned against the wall.
But she never knew.

M&M memories.

Each day memories of me
clamor for attention in your mind,
each one sure that it’s the best,
and I’m smiling, in every single one
…every single time.
I wave and you blush, so sweetly.
You flirt and I take control, so completely,
manipulating, maneuvering,
each motion nondescript
and yet completely planned out
in my unplanned plan.
You think of me, I know you do,
I want you to.
I want to be the wildfire
that rages and burns,
ravages and yearns,
entirely consuming all other memories,
until they’re ashes, mere fodder for someone new,
but no longer for you.
Because you are mine now,
utterly, solely, fully mine.
Can you feel me inside?
That lump in your throat, that’s me.
Those thoughts you’re not used to thinking; all me.
Call me Ego and I’ll call you Right.
But doesn’t it taste good upon your tongue,
when you finally lay waste to me, as I melt slowly in your mouth
my body no longer your dream but your reality?
Oh sweet sweet chocolate that I am, eat me, baby.
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