Is that all I am to you

I once read on Patricia Kennealy 's blog that everyone is someone's groupie.  I don't know if she came up with that or if she was quoting someone else, but I am quoting her.

Well it would seem, everyone else on the planet has a groupie but me.   Though it would seem that according to my buddy Patrick (who I would normally call Buddy #P but since he said he hated that code name and I'm pissed at him right now -his real name it is), I am a groupie for our tag team.   Really?  That's funny, I was always under the impression that groupies either frealed the celebrity or was like a mommy to them.  Last time I checked I had done neither for our tag team.  This label really upsets me. 
It's as if he's saying that I am not good enough to be anything of real value to anyone.
Seriously, if that's how my friends view me, then it's time to pack up completely. 

To quote Lynn Redgrave in the movie Midnight   "like a mouse running up an elephant's leg with rape in mind."  My buddy Patrick said during our conversation  "no one notices that mouse."    Very true, and I am feeling like that little mouse.  Only I've been tossed off landing against a tree shattering my spine and dying in horrible pain. 

All I have to say is if there is if the idea is true that everyone is someone's groupie, if I've got any they better stand up and shake the cobwebs off cause it would be nice to know.

What do you mean you missed the plot hole?

My friend's mom was going over a copy of draft 2 of the novel and she found a plot hole. Large one too at that. My editor did not find this plot hole.
Great wonderful lovely. Like I am not having enough issues with the frealing thing. Now I have to figure out how to fix it, how far back into the story to go and sew up the mistakes.
Someone remind me again why I became a writer? Oh right because it's all I ever wanted to be since I was 3. Right, I knew that. That and well Elvira, and I've already tried and failed at that back in college in the early 1990's.

Some of my art

Why?  Oh god only knows why I am daring to make a bigger hoser out of myself, but I am.
Okay, you're getting a taste of my failures now.  And I've failed at everything I have tried my hands at, art, poetry, music, television, plays, films, the only thing I haven't failed at is comedy and that's only cause I haven't tried comedy yet.

This is the one painting I keep getting asked if it's for sale.  No it's not.  It took me a year to do, and I was not smart enough to right down the mix for the skin colour.  There is about 5 different colours in the mix for the dead skin.  I call him   "The Incubus"

This is a poem I wrote last year on March 28th 2009 that was turned into a song for a friend's play.

Somehow I died that night
Covered in memories of forgotten times
he spilled the wine
blacked out on a canvass of a better line
coked out and strangled by his own design

seems he loved me not as much as I loved him
seems he loved me not as much as the powered white lines fine
well I died that night
covered in memories of broken rhymes
locked out of moments that should have been mine

I died that night
burned out and battered like a prized fighter in a caged fight
lord knows I gave and I tried
but I somehow died that night

his vision cleared
but left his eyes bloody and wide
his smoke cleared
but left him sweating like a cop  was tailing him high
his vision cleared
but I had died that night

seems he loved me not as much as I loved him
seems he loved me not as much as the powered white lines
fine
well I died that night
covered in memories of broken rhymes
locked out of moments that should have been mine

I died that night
I died
I died that night
I died
lord knows I gave and I tried
but somehow I died that night


Here's another poem I wrote back in 2001 under the name Harley Lilith Noir   it's called  "Duet"


The partnership is born mist the mass confusion, over screaming the play, playwright, actors
Burning moonlight in their veins, the desire of hot flashes, gel covered lights, 
foot -candle-spot
The dance begins, tone on tone, the microphones combine intertwine a duet of mass reality, 
voices purge their sorrows, mixing-combining-liquid creamed,
Eyes closed throats thrown open, the final notes nothing but a high pitched scream,
The music's over, microphones recharged as the crowd applaud 
clap-whisper-cheer,
Flowers-carnations-roses appear, at their feet, shoes scuffing on their silky petals,
As the partnership dissolves in the nothingness, 
Shadows emptiness embracing the night,
Until the next duet -until the theater is filled once more from wall to wall,
Against locked doors

And the poem that Paula, Buddy #P, and everyone I talked about in this post here that everyone wanted me to either send to the guy or post.  Called "Stolen Moment" Well, I'll post it and if he reads it great if not ...   


Just a stolen moment
A piece of your time
A wordless glance
Maybe I' ll be fine
Your attention I feel the need to seek
Even though I know you are a million miles out of my league
Just a stolen moment
A second of your time
A polite nod
Maybe I' ll be fine
Your attention I feel the need to seek
Even though I know you are a million miles out of my league
What draws me to you I will never truly know
I guess that is part of your charm part of your show
Just a stolen moment
A piece of your time
A silent smile
Maybe I' ll be fine
Your voice the ultimate temptation
Your eyes demonically divine
Just a stolen moment
One half second of your time
It's all I ask as I memorize every fine line your face has to offer
Before you move back into the crowd and continue your day
A glance, a soft smile, a happy wink
I will return your way
To let you know if you ask I will give to you
Just a stolen moment


So there you go.  Pieces of me in all my morbid glamour

You know those days when you feel like a fake

Yeah, it's one of those.  I just had to recommend a book that I thought was dren.
Book club journal thingie, with more nonsense then anything else in it.  There are hundreds of these things on the market all designed to make your reading experience more orgasmic then it truly is.
I've got one from a few years ago that is just a basic to the point book club journal.  A section for your to read list, a section for what the book club has read and their comments, with a few quotes thrown in for the cutesy floweriness of it.  
This one today, that I had to recommend,  I just wanted to say don't waste your time or money.  But I could not, so instead I just gave the list of what it offers.  
That makes me a fake today.  I don't like being a fake.

The Sex files... I don't get it

Okay, I was just going around the internet, and the topic of the day seems to be ... bedazzling your nedan.

What?  Huh?  Why?  

So this proves just how unsexy, unpopcultured I am, cause I think that is stupid.  Very stupid; pointless even.   I just don't understand the whole desire to wax/shave everything off to look like a porn start to begin with, and now to dress it up with fake gems to make it look less bare.  

If you don't like the look of a naked nedan, don't get the Brazilian.   Simple yes?
I guess I'm just way too 1950's for my own good.  Or whatever. 

What you learn from Oprah

I used to be a complete devotee of Oprah.  God knows how much I spent between 2001 and 2008 on her magazines every month.  I even signed up for every newsletter her website had.
When I got rid of cable back in 2006, it was one show I missed... for awhile.  Well, I never canceled my email newsletters I still get those every day.
And today's lists this as Poetry Month.

Poetry Month!  Really?  the girl says in her best Miz impression.  REAALLLYYY?
Remember few days ago I was jammering on about how I had written a poem a full year ago for a guy and did not have the guts to send it, and how I needed a sign from the universe... well damn it janet.  I think that might be a sign. Maybe. 

Seriously, poetry is one of the most intimate things you can give someone.  I'm serious here. There isn't another form of creativity or gifts that are more personal then a poem. Yes, poetry and lyrics go hand in hand, they are the same thing after all, and many people don't think of music as intimate, but trust me it is.  When you are moved by a great song, or energized by your favourite band, think about the words, the voice the way you react.  

No, I'm still too much a coward to give the guy the poem, but remember this, Jim Morrison of the Doors was a master at both. Many called him Dionysus in human form, and Dionysus was the god of both poetry and music.

Follow me. 

Sex appeal What makes you melt?

I used a screen capture for this post

In season 6 of SATC, Carrie is talking about Berger, and what she calls the "zas-zas-zu" that little gesture that makes your stomach flip every time you see your crush.

For me, it's a laugh or smile or smirk. Same simple little gesture but with three different results.
Or one result if you really want to know. Me melting completely.

You've heard me talk on here before about Mr. Shelley's smile/smirk/laugh. And you know I dig comedians. Rik Mayall is one of my all time favourites. But it's not just the movement of the lips, it's the attitude that comes with it. The way a guy's eyes will light up when he's smiling, the little laugh lines that dig into his skin. I've said before about Sheamus having a fabulous smile, which lights up the place. That said, men need to smile more. Specially wrestling Heels.
Maybe it's that smirk all bad boys seem to be able to pull off with just the right amount of sexy abandon, or the innocence that a real smile can add to a guy who normally is the shy quiet one.

The fact that alot of men smile out of nerves when they blush, it adds to the idea that they are all yours. Even when they're not, or for that matter not that innocent.

Which brings me to the smirk. That little sideways smile usually accompanied by a slight nod and light grunt. Always leaves me wondering what's that guy thinking?
Dangerous. Very very dangerous. A properly timed smirk, can be as welcome an invitation as a properly timed kiss. And just the right dash of mystery can send a swoon through me.

I don't know about anyone else, but for me a simple smile and a willingness to laugh is always a turn on.

This was suppose to be a Sex and the City moment but once again I got distracted by a beautiful man.

Life should be about food, laughter and bad camera work always.