Pottery Class Gone Wrong

We got kicked out of pottery class last week, which in retrospect, I guess I understand. We weren’t as interested in the pottery class per say as we were in recreating that sexy clay scene from Ghost. We even had Unchained Melody queued up on hubby’s iPhone set to play at precisely the right moment, which was right after he removed his shirt and sat behind me. The teacher was horrified and disturbed by this, and asked us to leave immediately and never come back. We didn’t really understand where she was coming from though because we were actually making a really nice piece of pottery. I guess recapturing a memorable scene from one of the most romantic love scenes ever is a no-no when you are taking pottery. Or perhaps we should have recreated a scene where the focus was more on the pottery itself, and less on the love… Maybe then she would have been happy. We aren’t sure. But what we are sure of is that we are out $125 bucks each.

Whatever. I will stick to buying unique kitschy pottery on Etsy rather than attempting to make it myself. Fuck you pottery class. Fuck you!

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A Thing For Food

I have this weird obsession with taking pictures of food and I’ve been doing it a lot lately. As soon as my schedule clears out a bit (which as you can tell by the frequency of my posts – hasn’t been often) I may have to venture in and mingle with the foodies… maybe create a new food blog.

Anyway. Hi 🙂 How are you? I can’t apologize for life, it happens. And it tends to be crazy when you’re a single mom, writer and a serial entrepreneur. But I am going to try to post more frequently here. I miss my blogging days!

Peace & Peaches!

Lingo

Mmmm enjoy:

Sushi @ Zipang in Vancouver 🙂

Breakfast is served

Annd… this one… Well let’s just say it was a stoner experiment. Yep. This is stoner food at its finest. This my friends is a Cheetos Oreo combo! I have no idea what the thinking was here. But it made for an interesting photo!

A Message For You?

Today’s message brought to you by the universe. Enjoy…

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The Boat of the Spiritually Aligned

Why do we overlook the present moment in favor of the next? It’s like giving up the sex to get to the cigarette, choosing the full belly without tasting the turkey, and begging the roller coaster to slow down because we were looking for something a little more long-term.

Stop worrying about failure, making money or finding Mr. Right.

Because truly you are missing what’s right.

Because this here… is what’s right.

Inhale it, taste it, rub it under your skin.

This perfection that we call NOW is your guiding light.

The walls that are seemingly crumbling around you, were built by you. Each and every last brick lovingly placed there with your hardworking fear, and your hard up ear.

It’s here.

The perfection that you both seek and destroy is standing before you waiting for you to acknowledge it’s presence.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

Because you’d rather wrap yourself up tightly in fear, like a horrific pink snuggie while you watch your life play out before you like a made-for-TV movie.

A bad one.

And you look around and everyone else is rockin’ their fear snuggies too, so you think “Well I guess this is what I should do”.

And it so isn’t… What you should do.

You are not living up to the potential that is you.

Fuck the snuggie, fuck the TV, embrace this moment and say “I’m gonna be me.”

You can sit there and judge me as a writer, a poet, a person and a mother… But you won’t evolve your position as a human by doing that. Not even in scat.

You won’t manifest your desires or attract what you seek as long as you allow yourself to wade in the negativity of your own mind.

You’re blind.

Stop looking ahead.

Stop looking behind.

You’re missing the boat of the spiritually aligned.

And I’m just learning to drive this boat. Enjoying the wind in my hair, the sound of the crashing waves around me, and basking in what it feels like to actually float.

And I never knew… I didn’t realize.

That I was the one with the remote.

I have always been the one who controlled this boat.

I used to be left in the wake behind it. Trying to catch a wave that my fear chose. Chasing tomorrows and rainbows, while my intuition fed me deafening blows.

Tomorrow never comes because by the time it gets here it’s already today.

So NOW is all that matters.

Don’t let tomorrow lead you astray.

Focus on my words and what I’ve come here to say.

Take your boat out for a spin

And enjoy the day!

Crazy Bitch

PaintedGirl

She sat on her couch staring blankly at the muted television playing reruns of Seinfeld. She could hear waves of mania whispering in her ear, feel it piercing into her bloodstream, pulsing through her body like an oncoming freight train. Now, all she had to do was wait. It was coming…

She smirked at the TV as she thought about what it would be like to rub butter all over George’s bald head. The visual image of this caused her to laugh hysterically until tears rolled down her cheek and her stomach hurt. Her heart was starting to pound out of her chest. She had to get up and go do something. Sitting on the couch just wouldn’t do, not with this type of energy, she had to get out… she needed to explore.

Feeling pretty good about herself, she put on some bright Red lipstick and a short mini skirt then headed off to do some shopping at Holt Renfrew, somewhere she normally never shopped. She tried on a dozen outfits until she found the one that was just right. Without looking at the price she ripped the tags off and walked out wearing the new outfit, her old one sitting in a trash can outside the dressing room.

The store security chased her out onto the street.

“Ma’am STOP right there NOW!”

She turned around with a smoke dangling from her mouth and a raised eyebrow “What?”

“You didn’t pay for that.”

“Oh” she said unsurprised.

She walked back into the store and threw her credit card down onto the counter.

“That will be $345.”

“Sure. Whatev!”

Dressed to the nines she headed back to her car. She cranked Peaches “Fuck the Pain Away” so loud that the bass rattled her windows and sent vibrations through her body. Disgusted onlookers glared at her harshly when they heard the nasty lyrics proudly pouring from her Honda Civic.

People just weren’t driving fast enough. “A bunch of fucking slow motherfuckers” she whispered under her breath. She laid into her horn getting the finger from several drivers around her. She decided to turn down a one way street (going the opposite direction) to make things faster and pulled up directly outside of a pub with loud music and drunk chicks hanging over the patio balcony.

“Perfect” she said.

Illegally parked on the sidewalk she headed inside.

She opened the door and strutted her ass over to the bar, walking with the swagger of a porn star about to collect the award for Best Fuck. Men stared at her hypnotically as she slid her body from side to side smirking with her pouty Red lips.

A loud obnoxious corporate guy shouted “you’re fucking hot”. She stopped in front of him and grabbed his tie, pulling him close to her, then licked his lips and the tip of his nose. She laughed and turned away from him as he watched her walk away, bewildered and turned on, but a little scared.

She sat by herself at the end of the bar. “I’ll have a double shot of Jack Daniels on the rocks” she shouted to the bartender.

“Sure thing” he said

She sat there for an hour or so and drank 4 double shots of JD, turned down 3 offers to buy her a drink, got 6 dirty looks, and stole 1 wallet. A hot Blonde woman strolled up beside her and asked “this seat taken?”

She smirked “it is now”

“I’m Celeste” the girl said, extending her hand

“Trix”

She swayed back and forth to the music and watched Celeste bent over the bar ordering two drinks; one for each of them. Celeste was wearing impossibly tight jeans, a slinky tube top, and some very nice stilettos. After some small talk and a few more drinks the two girls headed to the dance floor and made heads spin when they began dancing provocatively with each other.

“Lets get out of here” said Celeste

They went back to Trix’s house. The TV was still on mute and all the lights in the house were on. The fridge door was slightly open and the phone was off the hook. They sat on the couch for a few minutes and discussed the art in Trix’s living room.

“Do you wanna do something crazy?” asked Trix

“Always”

“Lets go downstairs and do some painting. I have this thing with being naked and rolling around in paint, then throwing myself at a canvas. It’s awesome and it makes for some pretty crazy art. You’ll love it. Come on.”

The next morning Trix woke up and looked beside her. Celeste was naked with crusty Red, Black and Pink paint covering most of her body. She looked down at her hands, they too were covered in paint.

Her bed was smeared with paint, the sheets would now be drop cloths.

She sat there with wide eyes surveying the carnage of her bed. “Sex, paint, and alcohol… That’s what happened” she thought to herself. Suddenly she burst out laughing waking Celeste, who opened her eyes smiling. She grabbed Trix and pulled her close “You’re a crazy bitch” she said kissing her on the forehead.

“I know” said Trix “I know.”

Prose Stimulus

pd_sex_070731_ms

I was going through a period of intense reclusiveness. Most days I ignored my phone, deleted emails without reading them, and even disregarded a few knocks on my door. I had a book due in exactly 45 days and hadn’t typed so much as a first sentence. The impending deadline, which often served as a motivator for me to finish my projects, was now making me paralyzed.

On day 40, after 5 days of not showering, drinking nothing but single malt scotch, and smoking several packs of cigarettes, I decided that my house might have been part of the problem. I looked around and surveyed the dim lighting, thick hanging smoke, and dart holes in the wall (where I had previously posted a photograph of my agent, until it had so many holes in it, it fell to the ground).

I decided to go to a hot yoga class. Maybe that was just what I needed to get centered. Maybe ideas would flow freely through my body as I did the downward facing dog in a 104 degree room with sweaty new age hippies.

The room was unbearable!! We hadn’t even started yet and I was already pouring with sweat. My sweat smelled like scotch and cigarettes. I think the guy in front of me wanted a lick because he kept looking back and smiling. He was very good looking and had a great body, almost too good to be straight.

“Bisexual?” I wondered.

After the class, where I had managed to sweat a week’s worth of scotch and cigs out of my body, he came up and introduced himself. I noticed immediately, that he had a hard on. Since I was pretty sure that he was aware of my absence of cock, I decided that he was straight or bi, and that either one was fine with me!

“Have you been here before?” he asked

“That’s so cliche” I shot back

He laughed and said “Well how would you like me to begin then?”

Still a little dizzy and possibly not sober I said “How about: Let’s go fuck”

He laughed nervously as I stared at him stone cold in the face “You… You’re serious aren’t you?”

“I never know” I said “stuff just comes out of my mouth, and by the time it’s out, it’s too late to stop it”

“Do you like martini’s?”

“I like anything with more than 14% alcohol” I said

We walked out the front door together with knowing smiles on our faces. First we were going to go through the motions and have a drink together before we fucked, because that was one of the steps on the ladder of sexual attraction. I sensed he wasn’t comfortable fucking me anonymously, although his penis staunchly disagreed.

We went to a place called the Green Martini and sat in a corner, extremely close to each other. Being that it was 3 o-clock in the afternoon and happy hour hadn’t started yet, we had the place to ourselves.

I smiled “So… David, what do you do other than picking up stressed out writers at hot yoga class?”

“Well – I work with senior citizens with stage 2 cancer. I help them with their diets and exercise regiment… And I’d like to think, extend the length of their lives.”

“Oh nice… Jesus and Satan are having a martini together”

He looked at me sideways and said “Well if you’re Satan then I will gladly go to hell in a handbasket”

After a few martinis we decided that we should go to his place, mine wasn’t fit for living, nevermind company. I just told him that I lived too far and that I had an angry pit bull who might tear his face off. The truth was, my place was closer than his, I had a cat not a dog, and I just didn’t want him to see the carnage that had been taking place at my house over the last week.

He lived in an impossibly well-decorated condo by the lake. Open concept, modern, and impeccably clean. No sign of a woman either, which was good. I looked for shoes, accessories, or anything feminine. We shared another drink out on his patio, this time, our drink was secondary to the reason we were both there. He took my glass from me, stared deep into my eyes and pressed his anatomy into my hip.

We never did finish our drink. We spent the afternoon and early evening in his tempurpedic bed.

I left around 7:30.

Just as I was walking down his hall, he shouted “Hey wait… I don’t have your number”.

I thought about it for a second. The sex was good. He was hot. But relationships… Ugh! So not my thing.

“Give me yours” I shouted back.

I entered his number into my phone (for real) but never ended up calling. It turns out, David was just what I needed to finish my book. I went home that night, sexed out and exhausted, but more motivated than I had been in months. I spent the next two weeks writing and smoking. Only breaking for snacks and bathroom breaks.

My agent called me on day 44.

“Is it done?”

“All done” I smiled

“Great! Send it over! What’s it about?”

“It’s about a self-destructive, sexaholic writer who tries to live a normal life, but can’t.”

“Sounds familiar” he laughed

I hung up and sighed a huge sigh of relief. No more pressure for at least another year!

My blackberry beeped. It was a text message, from who I can only assume was David.

It said: Found You! I’m calling you tonight!

I groaned (half in agony, half in anticipation) as I thought ” Well, it’s not all bad… Maybe I can get another book out this year.”

Virtual Reflection

virtual_identity_by_virtualien

Why has an error occurred on my Twitter feed
Why can’t I remember my password
When did I fall so behind on my blogging
Why does my blood pressure rise a few notches
Each time I sit in front of my computer
How did I forget to send that email
Who keeps Googling me
What about privacy
What about anonymity
Why does anybody care who I am
Who am I
Why do I spend hours upon hours online
Why does my job support virtual connections
What happened to face2face connections
What happened to looking into someone’s eyes
What will my daughters virtual life be like
Will they feel comfortable talking or typing
What is my virtual life like
Do I feel comfortable talking or typing
Does a virtual life count as much as a real one
When will this screen and my mirror become one

Maybe they already are.