That’s right. My new court date is Feb 14.
I remember the good old days when I would have Valentine’s as a kid. You know where you gave everyone in your class a little cheesy card, and no matter how much you insisted to your parents you didn’t like sweets they would always get you a heart shaped box filled with chocolates that could be filled with anything…
…and I do mean anything. It was like a Russian roulette chocolate game. What will be in this one? Something unidentifiable, something disguisting, or…no safe Carmel. ”Would I like another?” I’m sure I wouldn’t. I’m sure I’d love to run around and be chased by a box of chocolates than to risk a fake coconut one that somehow always tastes how I imagine Aqua Velva tastes.
“Well, mom and dad, I suppose one more wouldn’t hurt since you want to all the trouble to buy me this nice gift.” They look on smiling.
With carmel down, and no repeat looking in sight, I always risk a white one. I have no idea why. There’s some sort of unidentifiable red goo in it usually. And it tastes, well, red. Unidentifiable red taste. Could be anything really. Just red. I try to smile and choke back the one tear that wants to fall in a reaction to the red.
I thank them politely, and offer up candy for them. Of course they decline. This one is all for me.
I glance at the box, after admitting “I’m sure I’d like one more”.
Here it is the last blind hope, that the odd shaped one will contain nuts, and it’s not just a mutant. I really don’t want them to think I’m eating the mutant because I feel sorry for it. Actually, at this age I hated nuts in chocolate, but at least it’s on familiar ground. It does have an unidentifiable nut in it. I have no idea what I have just eaten, but I hope it doesn’t stretch into a tree later.
And no, I never got the kind the kind that shows you the map of what you’re eating. That either came later in life, or my parents were quick to pick out the one box on earth that didn’t come with a chocolate legend.
Three and your safe. It’s time to excuse myself to the bathroom where I can hide for a while until the candy is forgotten. Yes, it’s a childish trick, but I was a child.
Now that I think about it, court doesn’t sound so bad.
You’re favorite TBI writer.
Okay,
Posting the erotica was pure laziness on my part. It means I didn’t have to write a blog as I am slowly losing my mind…well whatever part of it is left.
I am now very happily engaged to an amazing woman, whose family is a little lacking on the accepting homosexuals. I believe I have been equated to a pimp or a drug dealer, which isn’t as bad as it sounds. I am a pimp, not a whore. I am a drug dealer, not a drug user. So, I figure that gives me management possbilites.
I know what you’re thinking. Really? Are people still homophobic, I mean educated people. And the answer to that is YES. It’s a Bible thing, and lest we forget…what 60 years ago an interracial marriage was a lynching offense, and yes the Bible has a lot more to say about racial purity than it does about homosexuality. Does anyone care about interracial marriage…because if you do you’re still a bigot.
Especially female homosexuality.
Sorry my male gays, how I love you so, but I want to point out, what the Bible says about female homosexuality?
That’s right. Nothing.
What did Christ say about homosexuality?
That’s right. Nothing.
I’m just saying if it was important, you think He would have brought it up. I don’t recall Christ teaching hate anywhere in the Bible, and since Christians are suppose to follow the teaching of Christ…yep, I don’t get it.
I feel pretty confident in saying, if you are a hater, Jesus wouldn’t like you very much. Now maybe the Old Testament God would give you a high five…but not Christ…I think He would leave you hanging.
Remember man wrote the Bible. Why do you think there are no bad references to lesbians. Most men love women on women.
Oh, right, erotica one day, call mom the next.
The writing skills are slowly reappearing and I work the hell out of the muscles every chance I get. I don’t have to just get back up to my creative bar, but I’ve I got to reach for that academic bar as well. Unfortunately, it’s easier for me to practice one than the other rather than do it concurrently. Creative came back first, I’ll use the practice of Aristotelean structure before I start talking about it academically about it, again.
Hello, ADD brain. Calling the mom. If you’re thinking my mom died about 18 years ago, yep, you’d be right. That one would require a long distance call Houdini couldn’t make any psychic to come up with, so there’s the other mom. Yep, I came with two, and no they weren’t a lesbian couple. Both sets of my parents are straight, and they seemed to raise a perfectly normal homosexual child. Odds are it’ll skip a generation or two, so I figure mine (should I choose to have them) will be straight and Republican just to piss me off.
How do you get two sets? Divorce? Religious cult? Nope, adoption. Great plan in case you’re orphaned early. So being a good kid I’ve never troubled my living mom, until now. With the executive functions down and out in the old noodle, it really jacks up my organizational skills.
So yes, I called my mom to help me organize my shit. It’s true with pretty much all TBI brain injuries. And let’s face it, my fiance (Ohhhh, I got to say it!) has enough on her plate with a full-time job, joining me for doctor appts, court crap, and the list never ends. I frankly don’t know how she does it, but we all get to the end of our tether.
There’s only one option of help. I will politely say that her family is unavailable, which leaves the mom. Okay, after 39 years of life and a brain injury, I don’t feel too bad about asking her for this one big favor…unfortunately this is also happening at the busiest time in her life.
Sigh.
It’s funny (not ha-ha funny), but odd.
I was in the hospital and watched my (adoptive) mom die. I had to stay in the room for the final moments, even though she was unconscious, I’m pretty sure to make sure my dad could fuck me up a little.
I watched my mother’s twin sister die in her hospital room, I just had some bad timing on walking into that one.
I watched my dad die in his hospital room. That one I just felt obligated to stay for since I was out of family that knew or raised me before the age of 21.
The one thing you learn slowly watching your family die off, is that family is about the most important thing you will ever have. Like them or hate them, you do love them. That’s why my mom is coming up from Tejas, unconditional love.
I know my fiance is having a rough time right now, but I still have to believe in unconditional love from family, blood or not. I grew up both Southern and Bible Baptist in my formative years. Probably the only true belief I hold from that time is unconditional love. I hope I’m right. I have a pretty good idea of what Christ would say on the subject. He was pretty clear on the love thing.
Unconditional love.
We’re hard wired for it.
I watch your lover through the window walk down the path away from the house for his daily meditation, though the mist outside clings to his skin.Kissing passionately, I drop my head as I let my tongue flick across your neck and listen to you moan in pleasure as I suckle the sweat from your neck caused by our heat, and move my hand to slowly unbuckle your jeans. For just a moment I reach deep inside to feel your hot, rich, slickness against my fingers. A tremor of pleasure escapes your lips as I feel myself gush with my own fresh wetness enslaved by the passion of your heat and fire.I want nothing more than to rip off your jeans and taste the richness surrounding your clit, taking you in my mouth and flicking my tongue across you, teasing at first, then moving my tongue deeper into you licking every crevice only to return to flick my tongue across your clit and feel you involuntarily pull back from me in ragged moan of pleasure. Deepening to probe every inch of you with my tongue. To listen to you moan as I take you in my mouth, but I pull back and wait letting our breaths grow ragged together slowly stroking you with my finger I move up against sliding from the sweat from our bodies. I kiss you for a moment letting you taste yourself for a second on my lips. Your nipples hard against mine, the slickness of our bodies glistening in sweat as we grasp at each other to hold on, not just to each other, but too the moment.Too excited to stop, though we know we could be caught at any second. I press further as I see in the distance your lover returning the mist has turned into a light wet rain.Your body wired with tension calls from every bit of muscle and sinew, and screams to me to end this torture of pleasure and release you. I can tell from your ragged breathing you are only a few strokes away from giving in to a complete release of pleasure. You scream for it, but your lovers path is coming closer to the house the mist increasing to heavier rain, she has quickened her pace.Your clit is rock hard against my fingers, though I can barely keep my strokes going, against my own growing excitement and your slickness that denies direct contact, but forces me to toy around it, baiting it, until finally I rub across it at just the right second. Your body begins to spasm against mine. I shush you against your natural need to release not only your body, but a scream that dies on your lips as I cover your lips with mine to dampen the sound…
Okay, I’ve decided everything should be somewhere between Land of the Lost (yes the original series, and yes the one with Chaka, whatever happened to that actor Philip Paley…he made it all the way to Airwolf. Keep in mind I have no reason to lie.), early to late Dr. Who up through Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
WTF, you ask. That’s a fair question.
Well any disease, bad guy/gal, universal deathly gloop, monster, demon,(the last three are simply known as different incarnations of the GOP of late) could be destroyed by attacking the actor in the rubber suit. And no, the suit was not used for protection.
I figure just about all those rubber suit baddies were some rendition of cancer, autism, heart attacks, strokes, brain injuries, broken bones, any physiological or psychological condition put in some rubber suit form. And through those shows we could kill them all.
Except for Chaka, even though we wanted to kill him at the time…really he is the precursor to JarJar Binks in annoyance value, just not as racist since he was blonde.
I figure,, that’s one of the reasons at least some of you know what I’m talking about.
We can’t cure cancer…though we might have cured AIDS for those who keep up with science news that tops 2011. All that stem cell research everyone gets whiney about…it really can save lives. You know, if we let people like scientists use it. I’m not talking about monkeys typing out Hamlet . I’m talking scientists.
I know I’m ready to run out and have an abortion just so they can harvest those cells. (Some people actually believe this, if you are one of them stop reading this blog and run directly into traffic…do not pass Go…do not collect $200. A straight header. I mean, if you believe stem cell research will increase abortions, you will probably believe me.)
I will let you know if I get sued because the last thing some good samaritan woman read was my blog and ran directly into traffic. I might even be a little proud.
You have to have some writing prowess to be writing about nonsensical rubber suits related to diseases, and still get someone to jump in front of traffic to help save the human evolutionary process…shit…take your kids too. Damn. Bet that was too late. Orphaned children all over the world will hate TBI writers everywhere for forcing people to think or die.
Man, I wish that were a prerequisite to life.
Think or die.
Might be my new motto.
Okay ever since second grade when Noah’s Ark destroyed my religious faith: God killing all those bunnies and puppies and babies born that day…yes, after that I thought God was mean as was subsequently sent to the principals office.
I had to find a utopian replacement for Santa Clause, God, and this Jesus fellow I was now suspect of being the Son of the baby, bunny, puppy killer.
There it was on my TV with my eyes a glaze. Okay it was an American utopia, but a utopia nonetheless. I was way too young to notice William Shatner, couldn’t and never could act. Not to kind to his fan base either, I found out later, but it didn’t condemn him to the puppy killer of my previous icons.
Every weekday I would sit mesmorized in front of the TV for an hour…it was better than Sunday football ahhhh…Roger Stauback…Billy Bates…but those days are gone. I can; however, watch Star Trek streaming on Netflix, but I know it will not live up to my childhood memory. On a nuch less cool level I watch the A-team and Knight Rider. NEVER watch those in rerun. You will realize how bad your taste was. Ehhhch.
I was by no means a TV watcher: Star Trek and football were my staples. There were all these incredible things. I watched my first interracial black and white kiss ever on TV, and you knew from that moment it was okay, because it was Capt. Kirk and Uhara.
(Sorry I grew up in the south we didn’t talk about such things. Completely taboo.)
I mean who didn’t want to kiss Uhara? I sure did. Eh, probably makes a little more since, since I turned out to be a lesbian, but she was hot as hell.
Here are all these Americans with strange put on accents flying about space saving planets and people; but we had our evil nemesis too–the Klingons and the Romulans and later series gave us the Borg ( I still get goosebumps).
We were never quite certain why they were bad with their grease paint and pointy ears, but someone had to be the bad guy.
Good vs. evil in the universe where we always wanted good to triumph (our–American space voyages who happened to have fake accents and pointy ears). It usually did, but sometimes life doesn’t allow only good things to happen to good people. I mean everyone in a red shirt that wasn’t Scotty was doomed to die before the second commercial. It was okay though. They would be back on set for the next episode.
The sadder ones were like City on the Edge of Forever where Kirk fell in love with a girl from the past who had to die even though she was a great person, and her ideas were ahead of her time. Yes, by God, I still know the names of the episodes without looking them up. (Amok Time was my favorite.)
Why was Star Trek so popular? Why is Star Wars so popular? Why is Jesus to popular? (I still question Santa Claus and think he had ulterior motives. This whole Ho-Ho-Ho and children come sit on my lap was always a little suspect to me.
Kirk, Spock, Dr. McCoy, Luke Skywalker, Harrison Ford (and of course) Carrie Fisher; These were the right guys doing the right things at the right times, win or lose. We knew they would fight to the end not only for each other, but for us too. It was all so clear, we just needed to be gallant, courageous, with the right touch of temperament, and do everything to save our friends at any cost. We had to be loyal, trusting those that in charge would save us all.
They usually did.
But just like Santa, Jesus, and God, none of them prepared us for the unfairness of real life. I sometimes go back to my dreams of utopia where I thought everything could be fair. It was before God turned mean, Santa Claus wasn’t real, which left my little girl mind a bit confused about this whole Jesus thing.
Star Trek didn’t prepare it for us either, but at least we had reruns and could pretend. Reruns of the Old Testament. What a drag. New Testament doesn’t exactly leave one all warm and fuzzy either…well perhaps warm.
Why were there so many Star Treks and they are still making them. We want that utopia in our future, we want it for our kids, and we want it for ourselves.
And some
Angela Gant tirades on Religion
By · CommentsThis is a cobbled together response I had to the following:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IAhDGYlpqY the video that went Viral about Loving Jesus and hating the chruch
http://theamericanjesus.net/?p=4970 an idiots response. I read it. Super boring.
BTW you can read this blog without going to either website, though the first one is four minutes and I think worth your time.
Okay, now I’m going to say something. In the 600′s I believe 633 CE the Catholic church took out the teaching that Christ did not believe you needed the church to go to heaven.
He never refers to Himself as the Son of God except in one version of the Bible, anywhere. How can anyone forgive a religion that started the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and the burning of witches (who btw weren’t witches)?
Historical account range widely to from 500,000 to 9 million people were burned in Europe. Wide ranging statistic; however, there weren’t a whole lot of people populating the earth at that time. There’s always the Spanish Inquisition…oh and didn’t we kill4 million native americans for being on our land before we got here because they were heathens and savages.
Yes, back when archbishops were keeping whores you could buy your dead family’s way into heaven, Think I’m wrong pick up a history book. All of Christianity comes as off shoots of the Catholic church. Think of that when you tithe your 10 percent that you probably can’t afford.
Why are churches constantly raising money for bigger buildings, or play rooms. They enjoy their 501ce status and don’t pay a dime in taxes. Ever been to a megachurch? That’s a complete waste of time and money. Find Jesus on your own. You have a manmade book that may not be accurate at all, but Jesus was a pretty amazing guy, and I don’t think He had anything bad to say about anyone or wished anyone harm for any reason. Can you say the same for every church service you’ve attended?
I think of Him as more of an amalgamation of preachers at the time. The Church didn’t vote to make him the Son of God until the 4th century ie He wasn’t a shoe in, And He almost loss. I always wondered who was the back up guy.
Jesus and the New Testament have alot of nice, if not completely conflicting and unfounded stories. What does it matter who exactly said it. I mean the who “let thee who is without sin cast the stone ” was inserted in the Renaissance, I believe. It certainly wasn’t from the original material, but there’s no way I would argue that because it makes the religion more tolerant. The character of Jesus, The Buddhas, who cares who gets it attributed to.
Just like under God was added in the 1950′s to the pledge of alliance and In God We trust was added to our money. Our forefathers never intended us to be a Christian state most were Deists and a few Atheists.
All religion reads the same no matter what. Be a good person, you will have a good life or afterlife, be bad and you will be punished. People excusing the mentally ill know right from wrong. I know Atheists that lead better lives than people who claim to be Christian (but so what, you may know the inverse).
And if you want to know what destroyed my faith, 2nd grade Bible class, and the story of Noah’s arc ( I couldn’t get over that that God flooded and killed the whole world killing all the bunnies, puppies and babies, even if they were born that day how could they have committed to sin and all be sent to hell? Yes, children think too.
(This is innocent inquisitive very, very, shy Angela who believed very much, and did not want “God to be mean” ). Of course I was sent to the principals office.
That got me to researching(not in 2nd grade that much,nbut I would continue to educate myself in my adult years in theolory. The Bible was put together between 50-300 CE. That’s like me writing about the early 1800′s with no internet, libraries, and my source of information is primarily world of mouth from people who didn’t live that long. We’ve all played the telephone game.
I think too many people in this world are just handed down religion from the elders. People never question it. They should. Everyone should decide what they believe based on faith and empirical evidence if possible. The churches might be overflowing then with Christians, Catholics, Taoists, Buddhists, Islamic or Zoroasterism for all I know.
Signed your favorite TBI writer.
Welcome to my current state TBI and High
By · CommentsOkay, unless I got a whole lot dumber in the past two weeks, somethings up. I was talking to one of my counselors…talking might be to strong a word…garbledy gooking at or near the person in question. I walked into my appointment and he asked if I was high. Well since I wasn’t high this was not a good beginning to the conversation.
My brain muddled through pancake mix (for some reason I always pick breakfast food for brain muddlement) as I tried to answer questions put to me, or even remember the question asked of me. I’ve been seeing this guy for a few months, so he’s got a pretty good baseline on me…meaning I’m not usually thinking through molasses. He’s like, “Hey your over-medicated.” I’m like, no shit Sherlock (btw non- sequitar throwing it out there: new Sherlock movie even better than the last).
I went from trying to keep my blogs down to 500 words, and no matter what I do I end up clocking at over 700 no matter what I do.
Right now I’m struggling to hit 200. Unless you can backslide on brain damage, which by the way, I really can’t unless I give working on anything and sit drewling over I Dream of Genie reruns (that one was always a brain drain).
Or maybe pull out those stupid cars that you rub on the carpet so they go real fast, but will NEVER go through the track loop no matter what you do. I still want to know how they got that slinky to go down all those stairs.
Hmmm childhood issues I should probably let go of.
Think I’ll report on the syrup tomorrow…I’m praying for a light heated syrup day. Maybe I won’t right this blog like I’m high. Then again, maybe I will.
What the hell are you up to, Angela Gant
By · CommentsWell I’m sitting here on my couch with my favorite director, Hugh Richard Massey III.
Quite unexpectedly we got a free location in NYC to shoot, So this Guy Walks Into Bar.
So we got to shoot a short film, in a Bar, The BLVD, for free. Free in NYC. Off the hook. Of course I wrote this before the brain damage. Since the brain damage, I’ve written these blogs. That’s right, I’ve been able to write in a public forum for weeks now.
Saturday we are shooting Richard’s utube brain child Awesome on Saturday. As soon as they are available on youtube I will provide links.
Since my attack:
I’m still waiting to get over my Traumatic Brain Injury and all the fixings that go with it.
Honestly, I miss being able to write academically, write plays, screenplays, and novels. Hopefully I’ll get it back and be able to finish my Ph.D.
I’m keeping it short and sweet. Up way past my bedtime.
For now the trail is set for Jan.24, 2012.
Ingredients for sleep- TBI style
By · CommentsOkay, short post. I am on my iPhone.
I actually slept last night.
I have discovered the ingediants to getting sleep for a night:
Don’t/can’t sleep got more than 3 or 4 hours for over a week.
Have 12 hours worth of panic attacks for complete exhaustion.
3 dunkin dunuts of your choice (it’s the secret ingredient they don’t tell u about).
Mix on high speed for a week.
Pinch of salt (even if u just throw it over your shoulder for luck)
Use excessive language in your last post because u r at the end of ur rope, leash, or other kinky apparatus if applicable.
Bed and pillows r a bonus, but sleeping from complete exhaustion does not even require a horizontal surface.
Purree.
And u will remember nothing.
SLEEP.
(driver used on a closed course)- I say this alot because it amuses me.
As does prognosticate. Just cause its a fun word and u can impress ur friends if u become a Soothsayer.
