Monday, January 31, 2005

Poetry Book Update

Woo hoo

Got my author copies of my A Sip of Sherrie poetry book today!
LooooooOOoooking GoooooOOOOOOOOOooD!

I'm so happy with the book. It's listed on Barnes and Noble and also on Amazon's website for pre-ordering.

For $16.95. At Publish America it's going for $13.95.

The release date isn't until March 28.

Dad told the 'Town Crier" so it will be all over town by noon tomorrow. lol

Quirk # 27

When I have the urge to shop in real life, I go online and shop on websites adding stuff to the shopping cart. But when it comes time to fill our the credit card info. I empty the cart and exit. It's like window shopping

2 songs I heard today

I heard two songs today that made me smile.

The first was "You're 16"... the song by Johnny Burnette that Ringo Starr remade in 1974. I heard it on the way to work. The oldies station played it. I remember a guy in my geometry class singing that song to me when I turned 16 in 78. His name was Dwayne and he used to tease me and another girl who was sooo shy. I think he liked the way our cheeks blushed. He was the same guy who told me and my friend Lisa that "Friday the 13th" was a comedy. We listened to him and to our horror... pun intended was a horror flick. I didn't sleep that night and was afraid that a body would fly through my window for weeks.

The second song was "Mony Mony"... sung by Billy Idol. I was driving over to the post office at 2 and it popped on the radio. Jeff Diamond played it at Rafters and the whole bar would go wild. I had a flashback of Michelob Lite and Foosball!

Last day of January 2005

What a cold month! How time is flying by!

My weekend was nice. Went to a Gala and danced until I broke the strap on my heel. What a bummer! I was getting down to the funky sound. I limped over to my date---my friend Wes to see when we were leaving. (I had driven over to his house which was better than meeting him at the dance). He told me to take my shoes off and dance some more since my dance card was still full. lol... so I did. We left late. Neither of us got lucky. lol

One thing about ole Wes---he says that he likes to take me to social functions because as a friend, I am easy to talk to, always dressed to kill, never demanding and I don't care if he talks to other women. And too, he can use me as an excuse to get out of situations that one can find themselves in at the most inappropriate time. I laugh at that one! Most men love 'those' type of situations.

But I had fun. It is always nice to dance the night away. I even danced with the downtown dickhead.

Saturday I didn't work long. It was cold and we were expecting severe weather. I had plans to go to the beach overnight with a girlfriend. She and another friend of hers were supposed to go but the friend had to cancel. So I was asked. With the weather being so flaky and the chance of sleet and ice, I called and cancelled too.

But as luck would have it, we never got bad weather. Rain and some ice but not any crippling. I ended up at the sports bar, playing some pool and hanging out at the bar talking to some old friends who I haven't seen in ages. Had a long conversation with a couple of young women about love. Both were under 25 and had just broken up with their boyfriends and were out trying to cheer each other up. They sat at the bar close to me and one of them asked, "Do you have any advice on men? Do they get better as they age? Or are we doomed to keep experiencing heartache.?"

I didn't know how to answer them. And my heart went out to them. Both are pretty girls and I know that they will have to learn their own lessons about love.

So I said, "No, they don't get better with age. The only advice I can give is to learn from your heartache and don't put so much expectations on men. Find out who you are, stay true to yourself and remember that love sometimes isn't enough. "

Probably not what they wanted to hear...but that's all I had time to say. Maybe I should give lectures

Thursday, January 27, 2005

There are times when I wished I didn't put so much faith in people I care about. I guess we all do that, don't we? Pin hope and faith on a person as if they are wings. When they falter... so do you.

It's been a day of ups and downs. So I'll skip my journal posts for today.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Poem for Today

a cinquain

titled: Hunter Green

green like his eyes
that watch me as I dance
across moonlight, a veil of mist
til dawn.


I haven't touched my Tarot cards since Nov until last night. I did some readings, even did one for myself. I'll have to post it here later. Its rather accurate. Haven't heard from the others that I did readings for. So I don't know if I was close or off base.

Georgia O'Keeffe

She's a famous artist. Deceased now. Her art is very exotic. And she's one of my favorite all time artists of old. Recently I came across a quote from her.

"I hate flowers--I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't
--Georiga O'Keeffe, productive painter into her nineties.

What??? Hate Flowers??? How could she have painted something so exotic, so sexual as flowers and hate them. Some people say that her some of her floral art looks like a woman's maidenhood (clit and vagina). I have to agree. There is something very sexy about her flowers. I think of women when I see them--not because they are feminine flowers but because of the suggestiveness of the art--that maybe my cunt is as exotic as a flower is beautiful.


I grew tired of my long hair this week. It was down to the back of my bra. If I let it dry naturally, it went wild. So that meant I was spending 30 mins a morning either blowdrying it straight or having to use my curlers.

So I called my beautician this morning and asked her if she could cut my hair. I just got back.
She wasn't available so I used her assistant--Rwanda or maybe its Yolanda. Anyway, she gave me a decent shoulder length cut... bouncy and easy to manage...And PERKY.

Its long enough to tickle a thigh or a stomach while I suck cock without getting in the way. lol.. I'm sooooooo bad, aren't I?

after she cut off the length, she asked if I wanted a lock of my hair to give to my "Lover." I thought she was kidding and laughed. Her phrasing was she was being politically correct with using lover instead of saying boyfriend or girlfriend...hey, ya gotta cover all the bases now a days. After a few seconds of laughing, I realized no one but me was doing it... in the mirror, I caught the serious looks of the other two women waiting behind me...and my laughing face...what a contrast!

But it was so absurd and sounded so 18-19th century. Had I stepped into a Jane Austen novel?

I declined politely. And felt so bad about laughing that I let her talk me into a color rinse to get rid of my few gray hairs and to get rid of the areas that the sun had lightened. I had a funky red area that for some reason returns every few months.

Now I'm an Auburn Wildflower (dark red-brown). And my new motto is:

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful...hate me because I'm Perky.

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Winter steals something from summer. Warmth, most would say. I continue to struggle with the concept that it's only warmth. The thievery goes deeper I think, taking the soul of you and replacing it with ice, as the temperature plunges. The urge to hibernate is so strong that I fight to stay outside the comfort of blankets and darkness. Winter is a fallen angel, stalking sunshine and maiming the sun's rays.

During the winter season, I feel the need to be anonymous as petal pink lipstick on floral porcelain china. How do I hide myself away from the demands of humanity upon the simplicity of winter's stolen moments? Inside the words of a novel. I wrap myself with them, fortified with adjectives and commas. My brain becomes a sponge that absorbs images and ideas that others write down.

Winter gives me an excuse to have a love affair with books.

~ ~ ~ ~
I think I have the start of a story here. I see a woman reading a novel and as she looks up from it, she realizes her life should be as vivid as the words from the novel, she's fallen in love with.

Quirk # 19

We all have little quirks. It’s what makes us special-unique-our own person. Quirks endear people to me. I always admire a person who admits they have them and thus, wear them proudly. I have been told I have plenty. I confess I do.

My Quirk # 19 is using the fortunes out of Fortune cookies as bookmarks. I’ve been doing it for 20 years now. My bedside table is a catchall for stuff that’s in my pockets. I’m sure that’s how it started…I looked for something on my bedside table to tag my spot in a novel and there was a fortune.

They are perfect to use. Not to bulky and very discreet. I don’t like to dog-ear my books. It makes it confusing when I go back to re-read them later.

What’s funny about this habit is that I won’t use another person’s fortune. It has to be mine!

One More Minute

I hate having to tell the boys to stop doing whatever they’re doing when its time to go to bed. Most of the time it’s usually all three of us playing a game or watching a movie with all three of us huddled up together. It almost kills them to call an end to their day. Both boys beg to stay up for “one more minute.” But I have to be stern and off to bed they go. One day, when they’re older, I’ll tell them about our nighttime battles and only then will I confess that I long for “one more minute”, too.

The Loves of my Life

I love my nephews. I ‘m beginning to think they are the loves of my life. When I walk into a room, they both shout a greeting and run to hug me. It doesn’t matter if I’ve seen them ten times that day—It’s always the same. Their faces light up, brighter than sunlight. I am humbled and overwhelmed with their love. In those precious moments of overwhelming love, I thank God for blessing me. And I wonder what did I do that was so right for me to deserve such unconditional love—such a heartwarming gift?

Monday, January 24, 2005

My friend Ledena called and asked if I wanted to go see male strippers this weekend.

I told her I would have to think about it. The last time I went to one of those shows, my breasts were humped so much I had to give them a pregnancy test the next morning!


…one of the greatest rock& roll bars ever! Though it took me a while to catch on.

I mentioned Joyce in my awakening story posted Jan 17. In fact, this little tale takes place during the same time. Joyce and I were roommates in the fall 84-spring 85 year. We got along better when we weren’t rooming together. She had a tendency to be blunt which irritated me. Plus she started dating a guy around the time I began to see Gray on a semi-regular basis—usually Tue and Thurs. The guy was named Kenny and a regular redneck. I didn’t like him. I thought she could do better. (Though she eventually married him and he ended up leaving town with some bimbo and taking all their belongings except Joyce’s clothes with him).

Amy, whom I would room with the next year, lived beside us. We had become friends with her the spring before. She roomed with Iris, who I called Tater. One had to love ol’ Tater. She was very funny and she also is the one who nicknamed me P.H. Maybe I’ll tell that story one day. Tater graduated the previous spring and so Amy had a new roommate. A girl named Susie who Amy had graduated from High School with. I had heard lots of Susie Tales but had never met her until she transferred to ECU for one semester from NC State. She was a wild woman—tall blonde and loud. One time the previous spring, Amy, Joyce, Tater and I had made a road trip to State to see Susie. But we couldn’t find her and ended up else where. But that story’s for another post. I called it the Road Trip to Hell.

Pre-Susie, we had a schedule. Mon-Tues were for studying, Wed for Pappa Katz’s ladies’ night and Thurs-Sun ..the Elbo room. It was at P-Katz that Susie met Hugh-a pretty guy with shaggy brown hair and huge eyes. He was likeable. Sometimes he would come over to the dorm and hang out. He was so quiet that we would forget he was there and do girl-talk for hours. I always wondered if he secretly recorded us and sold the info to any guy who would buy it.

With Joyce all into Kenny, I found I was spending my free time with Amy and Susie…at Rafters!!!!! At first I violently opposed it. What…no ELBO room? But there is dancing there and beer and guys …and dancing. At Rafters there was only standing around, drinking beer and listening to Rock & Roll/Metal.

It was the second or third visit to Rafters. Amy had gone home for the weekend. So just Susie and I were hanging out with Hugh close to the men’s room. Rafters was packed. I was bored. I said to Susie, “Explain again to me why we’re here.”

I think Hugh was in the men’s room… or probably blending in with the wall. She leaned over and said, “Because Hugh likes to come here. And the DJ is his roommate.”

She pointed to the DJ booth, which was close to where we were standing. I followed her finger. At that instant, miraculously the sea of rockers parted and I found my blue eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones. The DJ was fucking HOT. Dark curly hair…tall…with a hairy chest…

He motioned for us to come over to the booth. Susie had to drag me, because I was awe-struck. She introduced us, “Jeff this is Sherrie, a friend of mine…Sherrie, this is Jeff, Hugh’s roommate.”

He smiled and asked if I wanted to hear anything special. I don’t know what I requested but whatever it was met his approval. Susie and I went back to Hugh’s perch after that. I remember thinking… Hmmmm maybe Rafter’s isn’t so bad after all.

Another Weekend Bites the Dust

Is it me or is time flying?

Ended up watching a movie Saturday night--"White Noise." Went with my friend Doug. We were going to watch the Aviator but it didn't start til late and he had to work early Sunday morning. So we chose "White Noise" with Michael Keaton. Was pretty decent. It's about E.V.P (the dead sending messages via radio and television waves). I saw a few shows on the Sci Fi channel about it. At first I was skeptical about the movie as the credits rolled. I didn't recognize a single name other than Keaton's. But as the movie went along and the suspense built, my fears were removed. Poor Doug, he's such a chick. lol... he didn't like the suspense. He kept saying "This is killllllling me." On the way back to my house, we discussed 'supernatural' things. I tried not to say too much about what my real thoughts were on the subject. Not everyone is open-minded. As a person who grew up in a haunted house and who now works in a building that has many unexplained incidences, I am very open-minded and don't dismiss the subject.

He dropped me off at my house at 10. I was relieved that he went on home. I wasn't in the mood to make small talk about reality tv, hugh grant or chick movies. I put on my jammies and watched TV for a while.

Then Sunday I spent the day talking to some of my friends I haven't talked to in a while. When I found out Johnny Carson died, I was so sad. We have the same birthday --Oct. 23. He was the King of Late Night. I loved him. He kept me company many late nights as I studied for exams... some nights he was the last voice I heard before sleeping. When he retired from late night, I could never really get into the other guys like Leno. David Letterman comes close but still... he's no Johnny. So I spent a lot of the day, watching the news as they reported about Johnny and talked to his friends.

At nine, I watched Carnivale. I'm glad I stuck with it--the show has improved a lot. As it came on, I was microwaving some popcorn. It tends to leave a dark spot on the bottom of the microwave when it pops, so I've taken to putting a small plate under the bag. I didn't pay much attention to what plate I grabbed and it turned out to be one of the nephew's plastic plates with the Teletubbies on it. As the popcorn popped I stood in the doorway leading to the den where the tv was playing. The popping sounded violent but I figured it was because it was a good bag of popcorn. When it was done and I picked the plate up, it cracked. I killed the I'll have to run to the store after work and find a replacement.

I was torn about what to watch last night. Carnivale or Stephen King's new movie or the Dolphin Murders (it was on the discovery channel). I picked Carnivale and caught the second run of the Dolphin Murders at midnight. What a disturbing show! I may have to address it in a separate post.

Before I fell asleep last night, I had to try out my new vibes... heaven... orgasms are pieces of heaven I think.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Those old Elbo Days

The Elbo Room was my favorite place to hang out at during my second year at ECU. The first year was spent coming out of my frightfully shy shell. Joyce and I weren’t roommates yet. It was weird how we were one of the few returning people to our dorm floor. I think that’s why we became so tight that year. My roommate was a nursing student who didn’t believe in partying, dancing, having guys in our room or listening to loud music. Luckily Joyce’s roommate lived with her boyfriend and used the illusion of staying with Joyce as a cover so her parents wouldn’t find out.

The Elbo Room… small, tight dark place with the dance floor taking up most of it. They played dance music, except during happy hour on Fridays. Then they played rock and roll. Oh you could get a tall boy (a 16 oz can) of beer for under a buck. We would stand around and drink, sometimes talking to guys. My friend Susie, whom I will meet the next year used to dance in the little game room area all by herself. Guys would gather around while she did her redneck jig. I would crack up over her antics.

I remember one time…Joyce and I hit happy hour. Then we went to Daryl’s restaurant to get a salad and drink some of their buy-one-get-the-2nd-for-a-nickel mixed drinks...after that we stopped at Fast Fare (a quick stop convenient store) for a bottle of wine and proceeded to drink it before passing out at 9 pm. Never made it back to the Elbo Room that night.

And dance… my friends and I didn’t need guys to dance with. We would jump on the dance floor and shake our groove things…eventually guys would join in.

We were there almost every night except Monday’s and Tuesdays. How we loved the Elbo Room.

It wasn’t until the next year that we found ourselves torn between the Elbo Room and Rafters….

I’ll have to finish this later time to get home… I’m rambling on I know. How I love these old memories.

Another Saturday

As usual I babysat the nephews this morning while my sister Lisa went grocery shopping. We watched some cartoons while we had pancakes. I tried to make them look like footballs. It’s hard to sculpture pancake mix as it falls on a hot skillet. After we ate, William got some of my scrap paper I keep by the phone to write messages on. He wanted to write letters to people. We wrote one to Harry Potter, asking him how to find the Quiddith game on the Harry Potter and Chamber of Secrets computer game. Then we wrote one to Santa, asking him if he found any more Christmas presents for us. Lastly, Ben and I wrote a letter to the Snowmen, asking them to take all the cold weather back to the North Pole, because we like warm weather. William declared that I had to put a PS on the end of that one—to leave a little cold weather because he likes it cold.

My Granny spent last night with me. She is here checking on her ornery brother who’s been sick. She’s going back home this afternoon. I had to bribe Ben to give her a hug. Isn’t that something… it cost me a quarter but…at least Granny left with a smile, all happy he hugged her so hard.

I’m at work now, wrestling with my printer. I wonder if I bribed it if it would work better?

Since my weekend plans were canceled I guess I’ll go have dinner with a friend tonight. Hopefully I’ll be home before the weather gets rough. I think we are going to mainly get rain—maybe some ice. No snow…I hope. Maybe the Snowmen will get mine and Ben’s letter today and ignore William’s PS.

Friday, January 21, 2005

A Silly Pecker Song


Where is dicky, where could he be?
He was here a moment ago
Where is dicky, where could he be?
I've been looking high and low

Is he there behind the doll house quiet as a mouse?
Is he crouching in the toy box crafty as a fox?
Is he underneath the rug as cozy as a bug?
Oh where can dicky be?

Chorus: Peek-a-Boo, Where are you?
Come out from your hiding place
Peek-a-Boo, I see you!
It's good to see you're smilin',
Gee it's been awhile and
It's good to see your smilin' face

Where is wienie, where could he be?
He was here a moment ago
Where is wienie, where could he be?
I've been looking high and low

Is he underneath the chair all curled up like a bear?
Is he hiding in a cave just like a bat behaves?
Is he soaring through the skies just like and eagle flies?
Oh where can wienie be?

Peek-a-Boo, Where are you?
Come out from your hiding placePeek-a-Boo, I see you!
It's good to see you're smilin',
Gee it's been awhile and
It's good to see your smilin' face

Where is my wee cock, where could it be?
It was here a moment ago
Where is my wee cock, where could they be?
I've been looking high and low

Did it fly out of the room upon a witch's broom?
Did it wave a magic wand then suddenly it was gone?
Is it here but can't be seen like ghosts on Halloween?
Oh where can my wee cock be?

Peek-a-Boo, Where are you?
Come out from your hiding place
Peek-a-Boo, I see you!
It's good to see you're smilin',
Gee it's been awhile and
It's good to see your smilin' face

Afternoon Coffee on A Cold Day

I was getting coffee this afternoon, because it's so freaking cold in this drafty building. I saw a guy that used to date a friend of mine back in 95 or 96. They dated a year until the guy she really loved got his divorce. Anyway, I was over at her apartment one day. Her name is Crystal, btw. His nickname was Hanker. I have no idea why though. Okay back to my tale...we were going shopping and while she finished getting ready I sat on the couch. She had the radio going, so I decided it best not to turn on the tv. I noticed a photo album on the coffee table. Innocently I picked it up and out fell some polaroid photos. Of them naked! Something I didn't want to see. But what killed me was how small his cock was--hard. I quickly put the pictures back and moved to a different seat.

We went shopping and all I could think of was his small cock and how surprised I was that Crystal had been with him for so long. She was very open about her sexual needs. Many knew she had a 10 inch vibrator that she called King Dong. I knew that her last few boyfriends were endowed, it was impossible to hide the fact behind tight jeans. Then one day a few months later, we were at a pool party. It was during the summer. It was a hot day and the host had ice cream. So I am sitting by the pool, chillin' and swillin' down a cold one, when Hanker walks by, licking at an ice cream cone with a loOoOOOoong tongue. It dawned on me why Crystal kept him around.

I heard he got married a few years ago. I see him downtown sometimes. And each time I see a humorous image of his naked hard little dinky cock and then a dripping panty-wetting image of the long tongue, licking up and down and around that ice cream cone.

Just now...I realized as I got back to the studio with my hot coffee that I was already warm. lol

A Poem......

Cold winds blow
against my windows.
I listen to them rattle,
raging against winter;
its harsh realities chaping
my ivory skin.

Where did the warmth
of you go, once the winds came?

Love happily stewed in
a black kettle on our hearth.
We watched it boil,
not caring that it soiled the stones.
But now, the pot is empty.
The fire no longer burning.

Even the embers are dead
and cold from our silence.

I cannot find a way
to restart the fires
that once burned
across the flesh of us.
There is nothing left
but cold winds.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
winter has a way of stealing my soul

Outside the Box

I had plans to go out of town this weekend. I need to get away. But alas, the weather doesn’t look promising so I canceled them.

I'm feeling a little better today. Have some work to pump out for Monday. I let it slide yesterday. Right now I'm waiting on our local Elvis impersonator to get here and pick up some work I did for him yesterday. He's stingy--doesn't like to let a quarter go. So I quote high and watch him dicker me down to the price I planned on charging in the first place. Have to watch these Elvis impersonators...I think its the sideburns that makes them crafty.

I was in a funk yesterday. If I were honest with myself—which I should be here at least, if not in real life—I would confess that my fair-weather friend put me in the funk. She is a narcissist. Her world is a box she lives in…and she doesn’t relate to anything outside the box unless it’s a path that dead-ends, so she has to return back to her box. No matter what’s going on in my life, she barely has time to listen to it. She says what comes to mind without thinking of the repercussions of her words.

Wednesday, she called to see if I was going to some sort of Gala, because her boyfriend has tickets and she doesn’t want to go without knowing someone she knows will be there. I imagine she made a bunch of calls before calling me. I’ve dropped down on her list after telling her to quit calling me for advice when she knew she wasn’t going to take it. Hell I have other ways to spend my time and energy besides listening to her problems and giving her advice, she doesn’t really want in the first place.

Anyways, we chatted and she started complaining about her 19 yr old son who has gone wild. He pierced his tongue and won’t work at jobs for long. I think he moved out of her house and is living with some of his friends. It’s her fault that he’s like this. You can’t ignore your children and then wait until they are 18 and then try to be a mother!!! I’m surprised he didn’t go wild sooner. She made an error with me and I don’t think she realized it. She told me I should be happy my baby didn’t live, because I won’t have to experience the trouble she’s going through with her son. At first it rolled off me…and it wasn’t until she was into her next topic that I realized what she had just said! How uncouth that she mention my miscarriage as a blessing!

It isn’t. It’s a sorrow I carry every moment of my life. I do know one thing—my child would never have turned out like her children are turning out. Mainly because I am different that she is. I have a maternal gene. She doesn’t. Her life evolves around her insecure need to have a man in her life. Nothing else matters to her. In a way she’s handicapped, because she can’t function on her own.

I guess I am getting softer, because I didn’t sting her with a reply. I simply told her I had to go and hung up. How can you punish someone for a crime against you when they aren’t aware of anything outside their box?

Thursday, January 20, 2005


I saw a guy today at the bakery that reminded me of a regret that I have. Well, I shouldn't call it a regret...its more of a 'what could have been.' Oh well, I guess that's what a regret is.

Back when Allen moved to Charlotte in 1996. Before he left, we used to hang out at Peckers sports bar every night. After he left, I continued to stop by after work to talk to our friends and grab a bite to eat before heading home. One the spring, I was there sitting at the bar enjoying a Zima beer and a salad when I noticed a guy sitting a few seats away from me at that bar. He was a stranger... and what caught my attention was that when I called for Willie the bartender to bring me more napkins, the stranger answered. His name was Willie too.

Seated between us was a guy who liked to sit beside me. Mark. He was married and hung out at Peckers until his wife got home. She would call when she got in and he would dutiful go home to her. The reason he liked to sit beside me was because he knew I wouldn't hit on him. That's the excuse he gave...but I think it was because I played the Sex Trivia game on the poker machine. I kept the high score. Sometimes he would play with me or tell someone to come over and watch me top my last score.

That night, he started a conversation with the Stranger. And in doing so, the stranger asked what I was doing (by this time I had finished my salad and was playing the sex trivia game while I finished my beer). So we three played the game. While we did, the stranger talked about his life and entertained us with jokes. He was my age and lived in Florida. Single. He had flown up New Jersey to get a car his dad had for him and was on his way home to Florida. L'ton is the halfway mark. He was in town for just the night.

And boy was he ever so charming. He was a tree trimmer. He had a barrel chest that shouted muscles. Dark brown hair that was thick and stopped at the collar of his shirt. I could see every muscle on his arms. I trembled to imagine the rest of his body.

Our chemistry was devastating. And everyone noticed it immediately. Right before Mark left, he leaned over and whispered in my ear "Don't leave yet. Enjoy this guy's company. He's interesting and I can tell you're charmed. You deserve the attention he's piling on you."

So I stayed and I don't think I've ever been charmed as much as Willie, Tree Trimmer from Florida charmed me. We eventually moved to the billard area and shot a game of 8-ball. We laughed and laughed. He gave me lessons on how to line up my shots, even though I told him I knew how to play pool. He still had to show me. My pulse raced when he put his arms around me and helped me take my shots. I know I had an effect on him. I felt his hard cock pressing against me whenever he got behind me to help me take a shot....Once a song played, "Brandy" by Looking Glass and we danced. He held me close and even with layers of clothes between us, I felt the potency of his erection. I was literally being swept off my feet. And if someone had of mentioned Allen's name at that moment, I would have said, "Allen who?"

It was right before last call that Willie, the bartender came up to me to see if I wanted anything else. The Tree Trimmer was in the restroom. I remember Willie looking at me strangely, as if I were someone he didn't know. It was then that I realized that my behavior was unusual. I never exhibited interest in any guys while with Allen. When a guy would show romantic interest I would quickly inform him that I was Allen's girl. But this time, I didn't. I was acting as if I were single.

I looked at Willie and said, "I probably should leave before I get into trouble." I was referring to my desire to do more than talk to the tree trimmer. Willie agreed, "Yes, you need to get out of here now...while he's in the men's room. Go. I've got your tab covered. Its on me... GO NOW!" and he shooed me out the door. I was amazed that Willie was actually paying my tab for the night. He must have been really concerned that I was about to do something that would hurt Al.

I ran. Out the front door. I remember it shutting behind me and I breathed a sigh of relief. As if I had just had a close call of some sort. I took about 5 steps towards my car when I heard a voice behind me say, "Hello."

It was the Tree Trimmer, smoking a cigarette as he stood in the middle of the parking lot, as if waiting for me... Willie... man of iron, man of smiles, man who made my pulse race... I stood in shock. But..but..I had left him inside. I had just made my grand escape and ...there he was. I guess he read my mind because he said, "When I left the men's room, the guys at the bar told me they were closing. I left out the back door and waited for you....and here you are."

I smiled, not knowing what to say. My mind in a turmoil. I hadn't escaped the web. I had ran right into it.

"Is there another place we can go?"

"Hmmm no. Peckers is the only place I ever go to."

"I'm staying at the Comfort Inn. Would you like to come over and watch some TV? Talk some more."

Oh someone was tempting me... God? The Goddess of Fidelity? Oh I wanted to. How I wanted too... I had a flash of us naked...bodies sweating... his cock driving into me... my cunt gripping him, my mouth devouring him... and then I thought of Allen. And I knew I couldn't. I loved him. And though I was lonely with him living so far away, I knew I couldn't betray him. I was silent for a while. Not answering as I let my mind run its tortured path--trying to still the desire I felt for this man while listening to my heart remind me I had duties to fulfill--mainly being faithful.

"No I'm sorry. But I have to work tomorrow and its late. Be safe going back home....and thanks for a fun time." I turned away... his voice stopped me.

"Are you sure?" He purred out. I swear he touched the nape of my neck with his voice.

I pretended not to hear. Got in my car and drove away. As I waited for traffic to clear, I glanced in my rear view mirror. There stood the Tree Trimmer, still in the same spot, smoking his cigarette as he watched me drive away.

I almost turned back at the first light. But fought the urge...and as I drove further away, the urge slowly evaporated.

That was 9 years ago. Sometimes I think about him. I don't wonder about what would have happened. I know. We would have torn each others clothes off the second the door was shut. And it would have been the most intense pleasure that either of us had known. His touch burned me. I believe mine seared him.

There are times now...when I fantasize about him. He's probably on the top 5 list of people I fantasize about while I vibe.

When I saw that guy today. He had the same smoking mannerism that Willie, Tree Trimmer had. And for a while I was taken back to that last view of him, smoking in the parking lot as I drove away.

My regret is that I kept on driving. I wonder now... if I had of taken a sip of Willie, if maybe things would have been different in the end. I would have somehow lessened some of Allen's hold on me.

But its late now...and though I started this post earlier in the day with the drive to go in a different direction, I find I am ending it poorly... but isn't that what regret does to you? It leaves you conflicted and that's how I'm finding the ending of this post... the ramble of a conflicted woman, who will always wonder about the little stuff.

Cold but not frigid

It's been cold this week. Mon, Tues and Wed were terribly cold. We even had a small dust of snow yesterday but it melted once it hit the ground. Today is cold but not frigid, thank goodness. I don't mind the cold, but my bones do. lol

Even though I'm cold... I promise I'm not frigid

Monday, January 17, 2005


........guess I should do a little updating on what I've been up too lately.

Still trying to get rid of this congestion from when I was sick last week. So far it's winning. That's what I hate about respiratory illnesses--they have lingering effects on my lungs. Give me an average cold any day.

My private belly dance class is going okay. It's strange not having others working along side me. I have to get used to the undivided attention that my instructor Barbara gives me. We worked on my body undulations--- especially the rib circles. I was sore until the weekend. Isolating parts of the body and getting them to work in unusual fashions is very hard. It takes a lot of concentration. I think this week we're going to work on more rib and chest moves. I am skipping the aerobic belly dance class. I was getting burned out on it. There's a hip-hop fat buring class that's starting next week on Mondays or Thursdays. I think I might try it out. Give me a little variety in my exercise routine.

Work is going ok. We're slower than usual in the photography department. Its weird how that goes. Some weeks we are booming and others we are so slow dad starts getting worried. He's booked a ton of spring weddings so he's a little happier. I seem to always work daily. And we don't advertise my department. Most of my customers are referred to me. I like that. It gives me the best feedback. And I'm proud knowing I satisfy most of my customers.

The review I wrote about the "Belly Dance for Wimps" DVD is now on lol... I am a critic. Click here Review

My poetry book is at press as I write this. Once its available for pre-ordering I'll post the info here. I came up with the name of my third poetry book "Dancing in Blue." I thought...why stop at two books...go for 3.

Nothing new on the romance scene. But then I'm not looking. I'm too set in my ways for an everyday romance. I've gotten used to going where I want to, when I want to... and enjoying the view. One of my gal friends told me I was going to end up an old maid. Maybe so...but at least I'll be happy. Been asked to the Chamber of Commerce Gala on Jan 28. Its at the Country Club. Goldrush is playing. I should go. Its usually fun. But I don't particularly like the guy who asked me. He's a court house in the tax department. Kinda a playboy. I think he must be out of new women to chase and somehow I fell on his radar.

William's birthday party was yesterday. He's getting so big... 6 now. At the end of the day, he was holding my hand and smiling. I asked if he had fun. He said, "I'm happy, Aunt Sherrie."

I smiled back. I know the feeling.

Saturday, January 15, 2005

a Sher Mix

I'm a member of a survey site that offers napster downloads as a reward. I hit the mother-load the other week and got to download 15 songs. I decided to download some I don't have on CD... songs you like but don't like enough... I picked my favorite radio songs. Here they are and why I find them so special.

1) Alone Again by Dokken
Rafters...was...the best bar in G-ville with the best DJ. But that's not why I like the song. It's the perfect heavy metal ballad complete with guitar riff.

2) Touch me in the Morning By Diana Ross
Her voice is so sublime. Plus I can sing this song really well without being embarrassed if caught. I love the line "we see how love can grow, now we'll see how it dies."

3) Tiny Dancer by Elton John
Always has been my favorite EJ song. The movie Almost Famous punctuated how easy it is to get lost in sing-a-long heaven with Elton.

4) Patience by Guns & Roses
I wish I could whistle like Axil. No one is perfect. When two imperfect people get together--love won't be either. We all need just a little patience with love. It's all I ask for.

5) Hard Luck Woman by Kiss
Paul Stanley--sexy and all. This song makes me think of men who love but are so afraid of it...they have to run.

6) Push by Matchbox 20
Allen. This song is all Allen.

7) Little Red Corvette by Prince
I love Prince. This is my favorite song by him. Mainly because it reminds me of my days in college at ECU. Plus I love how he dances in the video. lol "love'em and leave'em fast, baby."

8) Nothing Compares to You by Prince
I love this song...Prince's version is my favorite. He jazzes it up and it doesn't whine like Sinead's version does. When you really love someone, nothing or nobody compares to them.

9) Oh Shelia by Ready for the World
Geat driving/dancing song. Plus I love to get down to some nasty belly dancing with it.

10) Let the Music Play by Shannon
Another ECU song. Used to dance to this at the old Elbo Room. Burned the floor for hours dancing.

11) Wishing Well by Terence Trent D'Arby
Gotta love the 80's. When I hear this song, I think of my roommate Jeri and I watching the video, arguing about who would get to fuck him first and then laughing at each other as we try to dance like he swishes and all.

These last four are my all time favorites:

12) Love Shack by The B-52's
Bang bang on the door baby.... The weekend before Susie (Banshee) got married, a bunch of us girls took her out to all the bars in Fayetteville. In everyone, she requested this song and we danced. So here's to Susie... Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin Roooooooooooofffffff Ruuuuuuuuuuuussssssted.

13) She talks to Angels by The Black Crowes
I think this song was written about me. It's my number one all time favorite song.

14) Unpretty by TLC
Everyone feels insecure. But this song is liberating.

15) Drops of Jupiter by Train
Dancing across the milkway to find myself... what a thought!

Friday, January 14, 2005


From April 2002

Sunday was too beautiful to ignore. So I took time for the herb garden torture session.I couldn't find my garden gloves. Either the weeds or a mole had hid them or I had misplaced them. Plundering in the garden tool area of my barn, I found the faded worn pair that my Mother has had for years. I looked at them for a long time, debating on whether to go at it bare handed and ruin my nails, or use the dirt-crushed gloves.I was intrigued by the way they looked like her hands, so tattered with time, much like a pair of worn shoes. I slipped a hand into one. It felt different. My hand automatically adjusted to the form of the glove. I slipped on the other one.

Off to the garden, I went, humming a tune, "the Flight of the Bumblebee,"as bees were buzzing in the azaleas. For a few hours, I battled Bermuda grass, milkweeds and other unthinkable horrors, like earthworms. As I toiled over my labor, imaging how rich my herb garden would bein supplying me with endless basil, dill, chives, mint, oregano, etc, my gloved hands worked diligently, as if on their own accord. Suddenly, I paused with my hoe, as a thoughtful musing occurred. Since I was wearing my Mother's work gloves, was I by osmosis absorbing her gardening wisdom and skills? Would I be wiser in the dealings with domesticating Mother Nature, now that I was wearing the gloves of a wise woman like my Mother? I wish that it were that easy, don't you? To be able gather wisdom through something as simple as wearing gloves.

It would make life easier, yes, but is life made to be easy? I don't think so. We are here by the blueprint of a higher being. We are meant to learn life's lessons on our own accord, mistakes and all. Still, it amused me to think that my Mother's gloves have blessed me with newly enhanced gardening skills. I felt like I had been promoted to `Demi-goddess' of the Garden.

(Hey… when I feast on my first herbs from my little garden, it will be like Ambrosia of the Gods. I think that act will transform me into a full-fledged Goddess of the Garden.)

Bonnie and Her blues

My fair-weather friend Bonnie called. She always has some relationship drama going on. Listening to her romantic problems makes me realize it takes a rare person to be able to walk away and say 'Fuck it' to a relationship that isn't working and make a conscious choice not to fall into any relationship that is only for comforts sake. I guess that makes me a rare person. I like to think I am one helluva person. I find it hard to find a partner in real life that can understand me. It has taken much soul searching and accepting of myself to get here, along with sacrifice.Sacrifice? Explain please, you're thinking. Hmmm hmm that is a tough one for a few sentences. I'll use my last long term relationship as an example...I loved Allen. I gave my whole heart.. and he took more than he gave, but I was fine with that because I loved him so. At that time the love of my life, but there was a point where my soul felt confined... bound to his inadequacies, to where I had to make a choice. Was the love worth me sacrificing my needs-- because by loving him I was drowning inside. As hard as I tried I could grow no gills. But I quelled the feelings and continued to love him. Then one day it dawned on me that in the end, we face life and death alone and do I want to face death with regrets of what could have been, even if that meant my growth would be a journey that I took alone. I knew that to do that would be murder of my soul. So I said goodbye to him... with many tears, I left and found myself. I am glad I did. No regrets.

Late introductions are better than none...

Always life seems to have been made up of words and colors for me. I tend to get lost in both. There are times when I think too much and times when I feel too deeply. As private as these times are, I still want to express them, even when they don't matter to anyone else or if they make sense or not.

If you are reading this now, well congrats for finding me and welcome to my rabid writing. Have you been vaccinated? I hope so. I guess I should say something profound about myself right now. Hmmm let me think... ok, here goes...I had a Strange Change machine when I was 4 years old. It featured the Lost World Dinosaurs. Telling my age now, but this was back in 1966. The animals or dinosaurs were made of plastic stuff, you squished them into a square with some kind of grip machine, then you put them in an oven and they popped back into shape. I did this over and over. To be honest, I am surprised that I didn't burn the house down or squish my fingers.

But I did learn something... no matter how many different ways you try to squish something into a square and no matter how many ways you try to get it back to shape... it never comes out exactly the same. So even when dealing with the familiar in life, it still hold some mystery.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

The Fig Tree

The fig tree sits bare in winter,
Its leaves long gone to decay;
now a part of the roots that shift
through the dirt of my mind.
I spy its structure;
the posture so stern
the limbs so unbending.
In the morning fog,
it hold mysteries in the graying bark.

Within the garden of innocence
the fig tree offers a shield
to protect the new blooms from decadence.
I ask now where is my innocence?
The fig tree gives no answer
and though I wait, time bears no fruit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~An ode to my fig bare of leaves..limbs exposed.

Desert Blossom

Another hour has passed, while I wasn’t looking.
I spin against the sun, a desert blossom;
knees soft and arms flowing—a fragrance of grace.
The sun drips orange across the horizon
and I still dance, pivoting against the four winds.
Like a twister in the sand, you charge across time,
breaking speed barriers with your Arabian gallop.
My dance stops mid-spin, yet my heart performs
half circles until a cycle is complete.
And there is no turning away from the fact
that you hold me captive within your pyramid arms.

~ ~ ~A poem spun from belly dancing moves.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

I feel myself slipping into a slow withdrawal into myself. I don't think that's a bad thing. I've always been this way. Its like I'm gathering energy for some forthcoming project that my psyche is aware of but I'm not. We all need to do this at times. I just hope that I don't start getting bored while this 'rest' takes place... boredom can lead to ... wicked things.

un/Finished Business

Yesterday I was going to write about the difference between arrogance and confidence, but it would have taken up too much energy and it wouldn't have really resolved the issue that made the topic an itch that crept into my mind.

But today I have time and energy.

The difference between arrogance and confidence is humility. The ideal that you are human and the ability to acknowledge it. Confidence is knowing who you are and being able to show the world without offending anyone. My friend DJ JD has confidence down pat. He knows who he is and he knows how to shine without blinding a person. When you are around him, you know that he's capable of handling anything that comes his way. He exudes the presence of knowing who he is and presents the world a very amicable vision.

Arrogance is very unappealing to me. Someone who thinks they are more than they really are and doesn't care who they run over isn't someone who wins in the long run. Its one thing for someone to put you on a pedestal and deem you a God or Goddess--at least to that person. But when you put yourself up on one and demand the world bow to you, you're asking for a punishment I think.

So begins the story of Casanta.

For a long time we did telemarketing at the studio. We have two phone lines. One for the studio business and the other for telemarketing and personal calls--that is until 1999 when we got online. Now the second line is for the internet. The second line has one digit different from the local Ford motor Company's phone line. Prior to '99, I got calls daily for Ford. One guy seemed to call often--his voice was distinct and clearly not from around here. There were times when I swore he was flirting with me.

One night in early 98, I was alone, working late on some photo restorations (I didn't start doing digital restoration until 2000) when the second line rang. I figured it was Allen. But it wasn't. It was the distinct voice, calling not for Ford but for me. To make a long story short--he works for Ford Motor Co. in Dearborn MI and at that time he was the eastern Truck sales manager or some title like that. He traveled to my area probably every few months or so. He said that after the first few times he misdialed, that he 'fell in love with my voice' and started misdialing on purpose. He took a chance to see if I happened to be at work. And to his joy I was.

We talked as I worked. I was very flattered that he took an interest in finding out who the woman was behind the voice. And intrigued a little about him. He was divorced, with children in their late teens, lived alone and very much Italian. He floored me when he said he wanted to take me to dinner the next time he was in or close to L'ton. I told him upfront that I was in a serious relationship and was honored that he found me intriguing, but I couldn't go to dinner with him.

It wasn't hard for him to look up the address to the studio, after all when I answer the phone I give the name of our business. I was shocked to find roses waiting on me the next day. And even more shocked to received a card addressed to me with polaroids of Casanta's cock. I laughed at his audacity! I wasn't really impressed with them but didn't let him know it. He called every day to say hi. Luckily I worked in the room where the second line was and answered the phone. Dad always thought it was Allen calling me.

I confess a flirtation developed between Casanta and I, but to me that's all it would ever be. We exchanged addresses and started a flirty letter writing 'relationship.' I managed to keep it on that level--a flirtation. It was tough because he was magnetic.

In June of 98, I fell ill with a serious respiratory illness that lasted until Aug. I have never been so sick in my whole life. Casanta got my home number from one of our employees and he checked on me a few times. I think he thought since I was home and in a private place, some sort of sexual contact would occur as we talked--i.e. phone sex. But it didn't, because I said no. I still believed in my relationship with Allen, even if I wasn't happy with it. I remained faithful. Casanta wasn't happy with my unwillingness to become sexual, even though it was via the phone, email or correspondence. So his phone calls slowly dwindled.

Then the nightmare of November struck and my world changed. When I reached out to Casanta during one of his telephone calls, he suddenly had a meeting to attend. I had naively thought of him as a friend and he wasn't. He let me down. And I still haven't forgiven him. But now that I'm older I don't fault the man--he is who he is.

It wasn't until 2001 that I met him face to face. He had been in Durham on Ford business and was driving down I-95 heading for Florida, when he stopped in. He called and asked me to meet him for a drink at the Holiday Inn. I had broken up with Allen. But I had found another flame--a soldier from Fort Bragg and was serious about him. But I figured a drink wouldn't hurt and it was time to see Casanta in person.

He was all he said he would be--handsome at 49, devilishly wicked and very arrogant. And he thought I was going to fuck him!!! Didn't matter that I was involved with someone. He didn't care. It was all about getting his cock in my mouth, ass and pussy. When I left him sitting at the bar, I don't think he realized that really punctuated my NO!!!!

When I tell someone I love them and they tell me that they love me and we are in a committed relationship--I do not fucking cheat! And I respect it when someone I am attracted to is in a relationship with someone else, I respect that! But Casanta has no respect for that concept--his world evolves around his cock. His self-absorption, ego and blatant disrespect for committed relationships will never garnish respect from me. I view him as shallow.

Eventually our 'friendship' fizzled down to occasional emails and the token Christmas card, which I stopped sending in 2002. In fact the last email I sent him was on Jan 9, 2003--his birthday. He sent me a reply asking if I was ready to fuck him. I didn't reply. Then this Monday, Jan 10, I get an email from him, asking where his birthday email was and if I had a Mr. Wonderful in my life. then he writes that it doesn't matter because we have unfinished personal business to attend too. I laughed my ass off when I read his email. His cock still rules him. I replied yesterday with news of my poetry book and that I was doing well, etc. I made no mention of his content. I wished him a happy birthday and that's about it.

Last night I was downloading tunes. My messenger services automatically log on when I connect online. I usually shut them off but forgot to last night. I get an IM on yahoo messenger--from Casanta. "Are you hiding? I bet you are." I was and replied out of curiosity. Two seconds later, I get a webcam invite from him. I didn't tell him I have a webcam. I accepted and there was his cock--staring at me. The only IM I sent to him once the webcam started was "I see its true--you're a dickhead." Most would recognize that comment for what it was--a slur. But not him. He proceeded to stroke and in less than 10 up and down's of his hand, his cock spit at me. And the screen went black.

I haven't heard from him. Maybe now his business with me is finished.

Tuesday, January 11, 2005


I remember the day
you braided clover
in my dark hair
and how we laughed
at your technique.
You whispered that
it should be ruby roses
instead of green clover.
But I disagreed,
clover is so promising
to new lovers lost in heaven,
for the chance of finding
a lucky four-leaf clover
is one in a million.
And you, green eyes
covered my braids with them.
~ ~ ~ ~
sometimes...even as jaded as I am... I still find hope in the idea of love.

Feeling Better

Finally feeling better. I'll say I'm up to 90%. My humor's come back and so has my libido. lol... phew... I was worried.

Today has been a quiet one at work. I've gotten my work for tomorrow done and am working on Thursday's tasks. Since I have time, I'll do some blog writing.

(Thinking aloud now)

Last year I concentrated on my poetry book--getting it published etc. And also spent much of the year editing my Irish Pirate novel. Only to have the final edited version lost when my computer crashed in Oct. I still have the first 4 drafts but the final one was the best. I guess I'll read over the last version and see if I can remember anything I added or subtracted.

So I guess that will be my writing goal this year--to get it edited and then find a literary agent to help me get it published. I'm not sure that I want PA to do it. Its a good story some people say and I think it would go over in the mainstream. We'll see.

I was discussing all this with a good friend and she suddenly asked what my romantic goals were this year!!! Well I had a good laugh. I haven't set romantic goals since 2002. I kinda like the way I am now. I go out some. But mainly I have freedom to do what I want. If love ever does visit me again, I guess I'll not worry that it was a goal or not. But I will say this...if I do fall in love he'll have to be a really special man to break the barriers I have erected. I don't see that ever happening...because I don't think he exists. And no.. I'm not daring the Goddess of Love to prove me wrong. I know I'm right. lol

Monday, January 10, 2005


Didn't get online yesterday. When I woke up, I was worse and knew that what I took to be a cold was really an allergy related respiratory bug. So I dove into my medicine cabinet and pulled out my prescription medicines and ended up sleeping most of the day and night. But I did wake up and watch Carnavale on HBO. So far its looking good. The first season was very slow and this one looks like the story will move along faster and be more exciting. I tried to watch Nip/Tuck but couldn't keep my eyes open. So I went to bed. Slept until 9 am.

Slowly got ready for work because the medicines I take for these respiratory bugs makes me groggy and listless. Got to work and have had 3 cups of coffee. I do feel much better than I did yesterday. I should have known I didn't have a cold. But sometimes its hard to know which side of the fence the 'congestion and stuffiness' is going to fall on.

A vision

When I am working on something that doesn't require much thought, my mind drifts aimlessly. Like a butterfly flirting here and there.

Today I got a vision on a semi-hairy masculine tummy with a strand of my hair, semi curling and laying on the area just below the navel. A poetic image? Maybe. Let's see if I can turn it into one.

Writing Poetry

I write you into the shadows
of filtered blue moonlight,
dust motes dancing wildly.

But you do not live there,
in the shadows of night.
You are sun-bright and bold.

You shine and I blossom
under your steady warmth,
a rose with few thorns.

And though I write us poetic,
in verses that make angels weep
and demons stumble in darkness,

We both know that nothing
is more poetic than a dark strand
of my hair curling around your navel.

Now, my love, let me write
with my lips erotic poetry
across the tops of your thighs.

I'm sure that eventually
a poetic point will spring up
and we'll both swim in poetry.

~ ~ ~
Well I think I did it!!!

Saturday, January 08, 2005


I must confess that Pablo Neruda has a big influence on my poetic writing style. I can read his verses over and over and still find magic in them. His gift of imagery is blissful to me. I see something new in a poem every time I read it. When I feel the need for inspiration on how to express a thought, I read him.

When it comes to the romantic and erotic poetry, I tend to delve into the current desires I have or the ones that left a brand on my libido. Hence a poem is born... from the soul of Neruda and the heart of my desires. The poem below is a balance of both.

The Midnight Hour

The midnight hour came
and I could not find you.
No moonlight slipped
over the worn path of my heart.
You chose shadows that
slowly die in sunlight,
instead of the wonder of
moonlight on satin.

Are you so afraid of
silken skin against your lips?

To know love is never enough.
You must taste it, breathe it
until love is etched across
the diamonds that give
your soul its shine.

I cannot find you in moonlight,
nor can you see me hidden in shadows.
I know only moonlight on satin,
and if you must hide, my love
seek the silken shadows
that lurk in the pores of my skin.

A Fire Burned

This poem is about Allen and I. We danced around each other for weeks, before we finally danced. A Dance of Fire. Even though the last 2 years of our relationship was full of trauma, I can still remember our first dance--the magic of it, the intensity that we felt--so strong that we didn't see the world around us. A dance has to end sometime.

A Fire Burned

Across the divide
that once parted
you and I,
a fire burned.
The heat smote the sun
and drove the eyes of the world
into shadow,
for the intensity was unbearable.

You and I danced.
The world ceased to exist
on the same plane as we did.
Never once did we question
the reasoning behind
the intensity of our flame.

We chose to let it breathe,
stealing oxygen from the sky.
When the fire died to an ember,
you stood on the edge of our world,
rubble and chaos at your feet.

And you watched me dance
alone in a cool blue flame
on a solitary path
across the divide
that once again parted
you and I.


...........I am home.... sick. This head cold is trying to kick my ass. I'm taking medicine, sipping hot tea, steam baths, etc...and I can't seem to shake it. I get tired of these respiratory ailments I seem to be prone to.

Canceled plans to go out with the girls last night. We had plans to go see the male exotic dance review at Cagney's in Fayetteville. For once the thought of half naked oiled up gyrating guys didn't move me. When I came home at 5:20 and promptly went to bed, my brother called Mom to come over and check on me. She brought the nephews with her. When she saw how pale I was she wanted to take me to the Urgent Care center. I told her I would be ok once I had some hot tea or soup and rest. She made me some tea and had me sit on the couch with a blanket around me.

The nephews don't understand what it means when someone is sick besides them. William's 5 and Ben's 3... to them us adults are invincible. So they decide to sit on me as I'm lying on the couch. I asked them if they thought I was a chair. Ben said "No you a girl." Mom told them my head hurt--which in hindsight, I wished she hadn't of done. Both of them would pat my head or my cheeks and say "You hurt?" By the time they left I was almost in tears. John, my brother apologized for calling mom. He didn't realize she would bring the boys with her and that they would terrorize me.

I went to bed at 9:30 and slept fitfully. Kept waking up, drowning in sinus drainage. I finally got up at 1 am and wrote a few poems. I don't think I slept again until 4 am. So I woke up feeling tired and icky. Went to work anyway and actually got a few things done. Left at 2, stopped by the grocery store and picked up some soup and steaks for tomorrow's dinner.

Came home. Made some hot tea. Canceled my evening plans to go with my guy pal Doug to Fayetteville. He is shopping for furniture for his daughter's bedroom. She's 4 and a cutie pie. He is a single father and does a good job of spoiling her. I wasn't fired up about going with him anyway. We're 11 yrs apart in age and I know to some that doesn't mean anything. But when you're on two different levels of maturity, it does. Even as friends only, it still makes a difference. He doesn't even know what sea monkeys are or has never heard of Earth Wind & Fire!!!! Our topics of conversation are children, reality tv, the Beach Boys and movies. He was cool about me wimping out of the trip. He is very naive and I find myself censoring things I would normally say--not because it would embarrass him but because he wouldn't understand it and explanations tend to ruin spur of the moment comments or jokes.

I took a 4 hour nap and feel so much better. Sipping a cup of hot tea now and downloading music.


Wise ones say there is a pattern to love.
We must figure out the one that's right for us.
Let us refuse to go round in circles,
become boxed in by squares
or driven insane with geometric nonsense.
Instead let us grip lines of red, black, yellow
and envy.
You run cross-ways
and I'll run up and down.
We'll pattern our love in a blanket of plaid
and dare the world to hate it.

~ ~ ~ ~
An ode to my holiday bra and panty set--it's fabulously plaid.

Friday, January 07, 2005

I had big plans today to write with brilliant insights into my soul but that hasn't been the case today. My mind flits over short topics and my fingers find the keyboard to be short on words. The way to dusty death... this is the first new year where I haven't felt unsettled or on the verge of feeling as if I'm slowly going into insanity--ok that's a strong word, but its what my fingers typed--I don't know what this year will hold for me, but I have no fear.

Used to ...little things made me worry. Little things I couldn't control.. things others did would make me worry... make me wonder if I've done something wrong or if I'm not being as good a friend as I can be... etc.

But now its like... fuck it. I know I'm a good friend. I know I'm a good daughter or sister or aunt. I always give 100% and then some... if someone doesn't realize how much I do for them or just how good a friend I really am...that's their loss. They shouldn't under estimate me or the power of me.

I will continue on this path of myself that I've discovered. Be the person I am... honest, reflective and happy...a woman who is confident with her own sexuality and not afraid to discuss it... a writer/poet who has the gift of words and the miracle of being able to express myself with candor.

Two Things I love

Masturbation and cock...

The perfect cock.. I've seen it... and sucked it.

The shaft fits perfectly in my hand--there's enough room left to stroke it up and down a little. The huge bulbous head is large and crowns my hand when I hold the shaft... as it grows, my lips stretch over the head...there are two slits that I dip my tongue in...

oh and the taste of its cum...

I had better stop there or I'll be doing the first ... *refer to the first

lazy girl

I've gotten lazy with masturbation. Instead of doing the dancing digits or using the big blue dildo or the rabbit, I've been placing my silver bullet on my clit and buzzing it. The remote control is easy to use. If I'm in a hurry, I buzz full blast and cum in like 5 secs. If I want to go slow and build the fantasy, I'll buzz on high and then slip down to slow, teasing my clit...until I explode. Its heaven.

Sadly I discovered masturbation in my early 20's. (In fact, I think I'll post a true story later this weekend. ) But once I did find masturbation, I realized how much fun I missed.

I'll always be one who will masturbate. Its not that I can't be satisfied by a lover...I can. Its that I know where to touch. My secret spots that no one else can find--and selfishly I don't share them. There are times when you just want to at night or in the mornings. Its both for me!

Masturbation is the greatest invention ever. lol

Good Ole J

J is a very good online friend. He's been around since 2001. Met him in the yahoo poetry groups. He haikued his way into one of mine. We chat on messenger some. He caught me on yesterday and I complained about my cold. Here's his comments:

painter lady: <-- has a cold and feels like crap
j s: are you sure it's crap??
j s: have you done comparisons?
j s: you may just feel like pasta
j s: be sure now

lol.. he cracks me up.

First Friday of 2005

I can hang with it! I'm adjusting to January. It takes the first week to get back into the swing of a new year. Now to organize myself is the task of the weekend.

With my poetry book coming out soon, I need to generate interest in purchasing the collection.

So what do I need to do? I'll tell you. lol

#1 I need to post in the forums.
#2 I need to update my website.
#3 I need to write some new stuff to post in the forums or pick out poems from the book to post.

See how easy it is to organize? lol

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

My Goal for 2005 to learn some Spanish! Time to check out the continuing education classes at RCC!

Belly dancing

Hi Sarah

You posted a comment or rather a question about Belly Dancing... Its not too hard to learn. What I have difficulty with is doing the traveling steps and the moves as a unit. And Snake they kill me. But over all, its not hard to learn. Even if you have two left feet and can't move your hips. You can still learn it.

Monday, January 03, 2005

Just thinking

so far this year... I've danced, played football and sucked cock.

Is this to be my agenda for 2005?

lol... I was writing about the last 'even't of the above list, when my PC froze and swallowed the post.

A sign for me to get to work and write about it later.

Oh man

I've been spying this really cool belly dance costume set since last Oct. It's on sale for $75. Over half off!!!! I got a royal blue one. Someone come and turn my PC I won't buy more!!!

New Year's Day

Mom woke me and my brother up... early... like around 8:30! She decided to spontaneously cook for the family(including Lisa and the boys). I was tired but got up and got a quick shower. While I did that Mom ran over to get the boys.... so at 9:30 or so, we were outside playing football.

William would hike the ball... toss it to me and I caught it perfectly but then it was a small football. I would run a few feet --real slow so Ben could catch me. He'd wrap his arms around my leg and I would fumble and then tell him to recover the ball and run for a touch down. He and William took turns doing the touchdowns .. . I made a couple. But most importantly, I taught them some touch down dances. After all that's what footballs all about.

We ate a good meal later... then everyone went home. I got ready for a birthday party--dressed very casual. Jeans and a sweater. And the party was soooooo boring. I think everyone there was hung over except for me. We watched Napoleon Dynamite. It cracked me up. I was home around 10 I think.

New Year's Eve

My plan was to go to Wilson to a party until the hostess told me she had a 'special guy' she wanted me to meet! No thanks...our tastes in men run on different tracks. I made up an excuse and took my second option--going to a party at the Oaks with two of my other girlfriends. Their boyfriends are soldiers stationed at Fort Bragg and they couldn't make it to the party. So we went 'stag' or it that 'doe.'

I wore a silver and black dress with spaghetti straps. It fell just above my knees. But I wore sensible heels--2 inch black pumps. And stockings--the kind that have the lace at the top. The other girls wore pants!!!! I'm like ... hey show off those legs.

The party had many singles. I was suprised at the people who chose not to bring a date. But in a way it made it more fun. Wasn't familiar with the band that played. They pounded out beach music tunes and other oldies. I danced a lot, mainly shagged. (Shagging in NC means dancing, And at midnight, I excused myself and ran to the ladies room--mainly because a guy I don't care much for had decided he was going to be my 'midnight kisser.'

I got home around 1 am. Lipstick still in place... no imprints left behind lol.

The first few steps of 2005

Ten years ago this month, Charles and I broke up. It seems longer than that! I'm in such a better place now--mentally and spiritually. It's amazing to me how much a person can grow from experiences. I think sometimes how lucky I was to finally break think I almost married that guy. I bet I would be another statistic of divorce too.

In March, it will be 10 years ago that I met Al... and I think I won't be looking back with remorse on that situation either.

Time has a way of making us who we are, whether we want it too or not. I am so proud of myself. Its the first time in many years where I didn't have a regret or a sorrow that kept me looking back. Today I stand tall, looking forward to the new year and all the joys and discoveries its going to toss me.

Sunday, January 02, 2005

The Last Poem

of my next poetry book:

Nights of Saturn and Satin

We dance along the rings of Saturn,
eyes failing to notice the stars.
My satin is a thin barrier
between our skin.

You find the secrets of eternity
in the corners of my lips.
Who knew they could taste
so delicious?

Our days run into nights,
and our nights run in circles.
Pleasure is the ring
that binds us.

Satin paves the rings of Saturn.
The universe cannot comprehend
the miracle of such love
but you and I do.

Jan 2

Two days into the year... and my fingers have walked a million miles over hills and curves.

What can I say... they're magic.

Saturday, January 01, 2005

Happy 2005

Man... I went to a party last night and had a blast!!!! I danced and danced and danced. My calves are so sore today. I know its from dancing in heels.

But it was fun. I may write about it later. I'm tired right now and have another party to go to.
It's a birthday party. I'm wearing flat shoes. lol

Tomorrow I'll drive over to Farmville to see Joyce. Her brother is in town. He's working in Canada and they havent seen him in a year. He's a strange bird. The visit should be interesting. After it's over I'm jetting over to Greenville for a while.

To think.. a new year is here. I hope it has some good surprises for me.

Well I should run get a shower.