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!

Writing Update

Poor Lingo Slinger Blog. It’s the bastard child who lives in the basement feeding on crumbs. I have been very busy lately, with my writing especially. You wouldn’t know it by looking here, but my writing career (the one I actually get paid for) has been going very well, so my own work has been taking a back seat lately in favor of client work.

I decided not to post any further chapters of my recent WIP book since I am seeking representation for it (just have to be careful with how much I post). Just wanted to post the first few chapters to gauge interest, so thank you to those who provided feedback and comments. If you do want to read it though, drop me an email and I will send it to you personally to review and provide feedback on when it’s finished. The stuff I posted here was raw, unedited and needed some restructuring – so I have since changed a few things. I am hoping to have the book finished by the end of this year so I can start querying it out by January.

So anyhoo that’s what’s up with my writing stuff lately. I am often posting instagrams on Twitter, the occasional VSS or checking in here and there, but aside from that haven’t had much time for blogging. I am working on my author website right now though and will link that to this website eventually.

So thanks for dropping in! Feel free to connect on Twitter or Facebook if you want another way to contact me.

Cheers!

 

Chapter Two

It was starting to get dark as we all huddled around my neighbour Jim’s coffee table surrounded by candles talking about the unbelievable events of the day. There were seven of us; two couples, a teenager, Mary and myself.  Jim had ventured out two hours earlier to try to get some gas and was telling us about his experience on the road.

“None of the traffic lights are working for miles” he said

“Strangely nobody is out on the street either. There were barely any cars around. I stopped at five gas stations and couldn’t get fucking gas from any one of em’. I guess because they are all electronically controlled or something. Only two of the gas stations had employees. The other ones were just ghost towns. People must be really freaked out.”

We all stared at Jim in disbelief. It was hard to imagine not being able to get gas. Things like electronically controlled pumps aren’t things we imagined failing a few days earlier. Like everything, we just took it for granted and didn’t think about what “could” happen.

It is one thing having your Internet go down or even losing power for a few hours, it is another to lose all communications and power at the same time. You feel a sense of hopelessness… lost. You truly don’t appreciate how dependent we are on technology until you spend a day without it. No television to check the weather or news; no radio in the car to keep us informed; no phone (mobile or landline) to call friends and family, and no Internet to turn to. The entire day had been one sobering display of reality, quickly reminding us just how vulnerable we really are. We’ve just been very lucky up until now.

Jim and Susan (the woman that had been on the street with Mary and I earlier) had a lovely little bungalow. The house had a traditional fireplace. There weren’t many of those in this area anymore; most had been replaced with fancy wall mounts or gas fireplaces. Theirs was the real deal. Jim came in from the garage holding an armful of wood.
“Here let’s start a fire. That’ll help keep us warm. You guys are all welcome to stay here with Susan and I for the night if you’d like. It’s cold out there. At least you’ll have heat. We can cook on the fire too. We have some old camping cookware we used to bring to the trailer with us, we can boil the kettle for tea and make some steaks.”

“Thanks Jim” I said “You really seem prepared for this kind of thing. I am like a fish out of water. I don’t know what to do with myself without my iPhone.”

Jim and Susan’s teenager (Sarah) looked over at me and smiled nervously “me too” she said.

I thought about how strange it must be for her. She was 18 years younger than me and I was a tech nerd. She didn’t know life without WiFi or texting! At least I was a Gen Xer and remembered what life was like BG (before Google). She was born with the internet. She didn’t know life without mobile or internet.

No wonder she was so quiet.

I felt strangely comforted with these 6 relatively unknown people who lived on my street. I felt connected to them through this experience and knew that we would continue to support each other and be friends even after the lights came on.

The other couple in our group (Kristin and Mark) decided to go home and sleep for the night. “Hopefully we’ll wake up to the power being back on” joked Mark “because this sucks balls.” We all laughed and wished them a good night as they headed back to their house.

Mary and I sat on the couch sipping wine while Susan ran around putting stuff in coolers and Jim brought wood in from the garage. Sarah sat beside a candle quietly reading a book. She was in complete emotional turmoil. I could tell by looking at her that she was freaking out inside but just trying to play it cool. None of us really talked about the “what if” factor. We pretty much went on the assumption that the lights would come back on, our internet would be restored, and our phones would work again. Not having those things didn’t seem plausible.

Mary was getting a little hammered by about midnight, she began telling me about how her marriage ended.

“Oh he was a real jerk” she giggled “He was unemployed for five years while I struggled working two jobs. Just used to sit around watching TV all day collecting disability and getting drunk. I was miserable and trying to pay the bills by myself because his money just went on booze. I am so thankful that I got out of that relationship when I did. He died last year of a heart attack. Only 52 years old.”

“Wow, I am so sorry to hear that Mary. You are an incredibly strong woman. How have you managed all these years on your own?”

She smiled and got teary “My son” she said “He is an absolute godsend. His name is Jared. He is in Africa working to introduce education to a small village that was hit hard by AIDS. He helped to build a school, shape the curriculum and works to encourage parents to allow their kids to attend school.”

“Wow. He sounds like an amazing guy.”

“He really is. He is so inspiring. He keeps me going. The reason why I got so upset earlier is that I was expecting an email from him this evening. He goes into one of the larger cities once per week to email me from an internet café. Today was the day.”

We both sat there in silence listening to the crackle of the fire sipping our wine, while Sarah was curled up in a chair across the room occasionally raising her gaze from the book she was reading.

Jim excitedly came running into the living room with a  giant box “I found it” he shouted “I found it”.

“Found what?” asked Susan

“My old telescope” he said. “It’s been years since I used this thing. I thought we could check out the sky tonight and see what’s going on up there.”

Jim set the telescope in the front living room window. There were no street lamps on, no lights from surrounding houses, or other sources of light pollution; just the glow of the moon and the stars, which we could actually see. The pink and purple sky that we had seen earlier was now replaced with a dark night sky, which on any other day would be quite beautiful. But now, it just seemed sort of scary and primal. There was just something about it that didn’t seem quite right.

We all gathered around the giant telescope sitting on the floor around it on couch cushions holding our wine. Jim ‘s telescope was on a mount facing upwards. He opened one of the windows so that we could view the sky without the glass.

Jim went silent for a few moments until he said “Wow… This is… I mean. Wow.”

“What are you seeing?” asked Mary

“I don’t even know how to explain it” he said “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Here come and take a look.”

Mary went and looked through the scope and also fell silent as she moved it around observing the same incredible sky that had rendered Jim so speechless. She backed away slowly from the telescope with her fingers resting on her mouth. “Here Jane. You go look. It’s… Beautiful, but unbelievable.”

I set my wine down and peered through the telescope observing the night sky like I had never seen it before. There were huge streaks of colour, now Green and blue. They cascaded through the sky, just barely visible to the naked eye if you were looking for it but obvious and bold with the telescope. The colours moved and changed and occasionally a streak of Purple or Red would be seen. It was like the Auroura Borealis on steroids.

I had witnessed the Auroura Borealis once in my life when I was a kid. I remember I had been suffering from the stomach flu, which, for a ten year old, was the worst thing ever. My brother excitedly grabbed my arm and ran out the back door with me. There was a hill at the back of the house. We ran all the way to the top. I had no idea why we were running or what we would see, but we ran to the top of the hill and collapsed. We looked up and saw the most beautiful lights in the sky. We sat there in silence for a half hour just looking at the sky.

I backed away from the telescope and sighed thinking about my family, wishing I could just talk to one of them on the phone to see how they were handling this whole thing. I missed them terribly.

first chapter of my new (untitled) book

Photo courtesy of CleanTechnologies.ca

It was a Friday morning. I was hung-over and still in bed. I looked over at my alarm clock, which was flickering from, bright to dim. It said 11:01AM. My room seemed eerie and quiet. I sat on the edge of my bed staring at my flickering clock. I hit it a few times with my hand and then unplugged it. I thought perhaps it might be a fire hazard.  My iPhone beeped telling me I had a text message. I ignored it and sauntered into the kitchen to make myself a much-needed cup of tea.  When I opened the fridge door it hit me like a ton of bricks; the calendar on the fridge. Today was Friday December 21st 2012”.  Suddenly I felt a knot form in my stomach. Today was supposed to be “the day”, the end of the Mayan Long Count calendar. I looked up at the clock on the wall, which now said 11:09. I looked in the mirror and whispered, “calm down, it’s all hype. It’ll be fine. It’s just a day.”

A few months ago I had talked to some friends about this and we had all agreed to get together and be together during this time “just in case”. It was half joking, half serious. But here I was alone, completely oblivious to the days date. I started singing the Star Spangled Banner for some reason. I think it made me feel better. The kettle whistled and I heard the second hand on the clock move into position, which seemed louder and more pronounced than ever. I turned around slowly to see the time: 11:11AM.

And it was at that moment that my lights went out.

“Oh shit” I shouted.

My cat came into the kitchen and stared at me in a way that I have never quite seen him look before. He began yowling ferociously at me, staring at me in desperation – expecting something from me. I poured some food into his dish and gave him some water. He didn’t go near it and continued on yowling at me. “Oh gawd I wish I understood kitty language” I thought to myself. I picked him up and cuddled him into my chest as he continued on. I also noticed the birds outside. They were chirping fiercely and loudly and seemed to all be gathered in the tree in my front yard. I opened the front door and looked up at the trees. There were mobs of birds in every tree as far as the eye could see. I have never heard so many birds chirping at one time. I looked up at the sky and noticed it was a beautiful magenta colour with flecks of pink and the clouds were moving at an astonishing pace. Perhaps this was what the birds were chirping about and my cat was yowling about. It did seem strange.  I went back inside to make my tea, unsure of how to process these occurrences, but not wanting to let my imagination run wild with apocalyptic wonder.

My cat was sitting rigidly on the windowsill staring up at the sky intently. He was agitated and on alert. His tail was all fat and spikey, like the way it looks when he is threatened by another animal. I stood and stared at him for a minute wondering what must have been going through his mind. This was all a little too close for coincidence. Conspiracy theories and mean tricks starting running through my mind as possible “triggers” for the power outage… But that didn’t explain the sky or the birds.

I looked at the clock again to do a time check. It was now 11:35AM. So the big 11:11 time had come and gone, and I was still standing here in my kitchen alive looking at my cat. But on the other hand, the lights did go out at 11:11. I played tug of war with my mind going back and forth between coincidence and reality.  I decided that the best thing for me to do was sit down and enjoy a cup of tea and just be in the moment with my tea before resorting to complete and utter panic mode. As a writer, my mind tends to wander into the depths of extremity at times and this was one time when I desperately wanted to avoid that type of thinking.

When I finished my tea I reached for my phone. I was surprised that no one had called to tell me about their power going out, which made me wonder. Maybe it was just my power. Maybe everyone else was fine and the outage was restricted to my block. I pulled my phone out of my purse and hopped to my feet to look out the window one more time. The birds were still congregating in all of the treetops and the sky still looked purple and pink. I noticed that I had no bars on my iPhone, which was weird because I always had stellar reception in my neighbourhood. In fact, people always commented on it. My stomach twisted and turned and I suddenly felt that there might be something bigger at work here.

I am not sure why the iPhone was the trigger for this and not the power outage, the birds, or the pink sky. I guess I was trying to keep my thoughts from destroying me. I got a bit panicky and ran to the back room to get the house phone (which I never used).

The line was dead.

No dial tone.

A couple of tears escaped from my eyes as I worried about getting in touch with my family. I opened my MacBook to check my internet connection knowing that there wouldn’t be one. But I still had to be sure. It was at this moment that I felt the magnitude of whatever this “thing” was hit me like a wrecking ball to the chest. In my 34 years on this planet I have never known a time without a working phone line and in my later years – a working internet connection. I was a GenXer – a wired entrepreneur who thrived on Facebook, Twitter, texting and WiFi. Sure I remember what it was like before these things existed, but I got used to them, and I liked them. This outage was huge, whatever it was. It brought back memories of the big Black Out of 2003; the second largest electrical blackout in history. But this one was different… The sky looked weird and the animals knew something that the humans didn’t.

Accepting that this was way bigger than I had initially thought, I decided to grab my keys and go for a walk in my neighbourhood. Some of my neighbours were outside on the sidewalk talking. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they were as scared as I was. I walked over and introduced myself:

“Hi, I’m Jane. I live at #117.”

“Hi Jane” said one woman as she hugged me and sobbed into my shoulder “I’m Mary.”

“This is pretty strange huh? What do you make of all this?”

The other woman (who’s name I didn’t know) jumped in and said “I think it’s some sort of solar storm. I think it will pass. We knew something was going to happen, and here it is. We have to be careful not to panic.”

Mary glared at the woman through soggy eyes and said “My son is in Africa and I have no way to get a hold of him.”

We all stood there in silence for a moment as some strange noises came from the sky above. It kind of sounded like what you hear when you lasso a rubber skipping rope around in the air quickly.

Blackout

I sat in my dimly lit eight hundred dollar a month apartment trying to put myself back together. The flashing Red light from my phone indicated that I had messages.

My face felt like somebody punched me hard and my body felt abused. The thoughts from the night prior were spotty at best. I remembered his face. It was gentle, his eyes bright, and his smile, warm and inviting.

Who was he? Where was he? How did I get home?

I listened to my messages in search of a clue, but turned up empty.

My brows furrowed as my brain worked like the little engine that could. My memory was failing me miserably. How depressing.

I headed to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

Jack Daniels straight up, no ice.

I shot it back and felt the soothing burn in the back of my throat as I slumped down on my kitchen floor with the bottle thinking “shit, I really need to quit drinking.”

Stories for Lazy Twats

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Yes it’s true… A story can get shorter than a piece of flash, which is my usual savoire laze fare! It’s kind of hard to write involved and enthralling pieces when you have two shrieking divas in the background who are often fighting, screaming for no apparant reason, or pretending to be very loud high pitched dogs who don’t know how to do anything other than bark.

It’s true. This is my reality. Which is why I’m just not that great of a blogger. But whatever, I am not one of these dedicated bitches who can write every day and have a killer blog with thousands of followers. Maybe one day, when life gets less complicated. For now I’ll settle for inconsistent turds of creativity every now and then.

So back to stories for lazy twats… I write them on Twitter. They are less than 140 characters and totally random (same with when they are posted). I thought I would post some of my more recent ones here for you to enjoy, since I am too much of a lazy twat myself to write anything lengthier.

Enjoy… 🙂

He was an odd man who refused to eat anything green. Had an immense fear of fungus. He died suddenly when he looked at his wife’s toes.

She just couldn’t seem to deal with life. Always stressed out and paranoid, twitchy & weird. That was before she met her new friend Oxy.

He liked lavender in his bath and seasoned his pans. Didn’t drink beer or like sports fans. At least he appreciated a good set of cans!

I wasn’t prepared when my 5 yr old asked me what the meaning of life was. Nor was I prepared when he asked me if the answer was work.

I sensed that people only came to my meeting for the free sandwiches because when I started my presentation, they left.

Missy was a bit of a bimbo, but a happy harmless one. People never seemed to look her in the eyes though. Must’ve been those double Es.

Ted had a horrible case of halitosis. However, he was oblivious about his condition, even when coworkers gagged while speaking to him.

He showed up on my doorstep with a bag of frozen peas and some crab cakes. “I brought dinner” he said. It was 3am. He was drunk.

He was a choir boy and I was Satan, or at least that’s what his mother thought. Until I told her about his huge porn collection.

He had to push his car windows up with his hands, and that didn’t always work. But he sure looked cool cruising to gangster beats.

He was the office turd. Most of us had a hard time not punching him in the face. That’s why we set JELL-O in his desk drawers.

He drank JD in the graveyard by his wifes tomb every Friday. When I asked him why he said “I’m not done arguing with that bitch”.

Sonny was a bit shifty. Never looked you in the eye and had a paranoid twitch. But he always seemed normal under a strobe light.

She didn’t feel comfortable being in a church, but had no problem giving an arduous blow job to a horny reverend behind the arena.

If you kinda like these… You can always follow me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/selinajane

Or not. Up to you!

Bye for now!

xo

Some Demons Don’t Die

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I found him in his walk in closet. Door closed, naked, holding a shotgun. I could tell by looking at him that he’d been there a while. He had all of his paraphernalia beside him, and remnants of his compulsions littered the floor.

“Dude… I’ve been worried about you.”

“Shut the door. Hurry up and get in here. They’re out there.”

I shut the closet door behind me, sat on the floor cross-legged and put my hand on his leg. He was twitchy and so far gone I barely knew how to relate. He’d been slicing up his arms and legs something awful. The words “HELP ME” sliced into his Right forearm in blood, the words “I HATE THIS” sliced into one of his legs, and a big “X” on his belly.

“God Jay… This isn’t healthy. I can’t watch you spiral down like this”

“Shhh did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“They’re fucking in here, I know they are.”

He clutched the gun closer. I knew it was probably loaded.

“Jay. I just got here remember? I broke in through the back door. Maybe you’re mistaking me for them? I walked through your house. Nobody is in here I swear.”

“They wouldn’t have showed themselves to you. It’s me they want.”

I didn’t bother asking who “they” were, since I was pretty sure that “they” were a fictitious drug-induced form of psychosis. You just can’t rationalize with a crackhead.

He looked like shit, stunk too. Probably hadn’t showered in weeks. It always amazed me how someone who used to be so talented and good-looking could just slide down into hell so easily and become part of the underworld of society. When you’re partying with your friends and everyone’s high and having fun, you don’t think that this is gonna happen to any of you. And when it does, it’s a reality check.

None of our friends came around anymore. I was the last one. Everyone else had been accused of theft, lying, and conspiring against him. He was so fucking paranoid it defied logic. Even the dealers didn’t like coming around. But he was a consistent customer, so they had to.

I put my hand on the shaft of the gun. “Do you want me to take the gun and go look around for you?”

“No… I can’t give it to you.”

“Okay, well do you want me to go look around unarmed? Because I will.”

“Fine. But make sure you look in the backyard and the basement. Be careful.”

I agreed and made my way downstairs into the destroyed house that used to once be filled with friends and life.
Dishes that had been there for weeks collected mold in the sink. Old pizza boxes littered the floor, some still with food in them.  The living room was a graveyard of beer bottles, cans, bottles and cigarette buts. At least two cigarettes had burned down to the end by being left and forgotten on the table or floor.

After a good ten-minute inspection of his filthy house, I went back upstairs to report my findings and to bring him some tea.

“Here, drink this. There’s no one down there. You’re just really high.” I sighed. “Listen… Why don’t you come with me to my house for a few days? Get away from this shit hole. You’re in a mental prison here by yourself, and you keep getting high thinking that it’ll make you feel better, but all it does is make you more psychotic. You need to give up the drugs dude. How much worse can things get?”

“I know, I know. I did too much. I bough enough for a two month supply and used it all the past two weeks. It’s all gone. And now I’m too fucking high to go get more and I’m gonna get sick.”

My throat had a lump in it and tears began to sting my eyes “Dude look at you. You’re fucking cut and bleeding everywhere, you’re paranoid as fuck, you don’t have a grasp of reality anymore. You quit the band, you don’t play anymore… You’re spending all your money. A lot of our friends can’t deal with you. You need help.”

“I know” he said

I opened the closet door, stood up and reached down for his hand. He stood to his feet and walked out into his bedroom, squinting at the sunlight coming in through the window.

“Give me the gun Jay. And here, put these on.”

He handed it over and I went downstairs in the basement to hide it while he got dressed.

When I got back upstairs he was lying on his bed shivering.

“Come on, you’re coming with me.”

He didn’t put much of a fight up. I brought him back to my apartment and put him in my bed. Listened to him scream, shout, throw things, cry, and moan in agony for a week. All I did was take him tea, soup, water, vitamins, and T3s.  He begged to use my phone, begged me to take him to his dealer, tried to sneak out onto my balcony but realized it was too high, and eventually… gave up.

On the 8th day he emerged from my bedroom wrapped in my pink robe. He came and sat beside me on my couch while I worked.

“Hey” he said “Thanks for giving a shit.”

“If I didn’t, nobody else would” I said “I wasn’t about to watch you kill yourself”

“So, what now?” he asked

“Well you’re not going back to that depressing hell hole you call a home I’ll tell you that much. We’re gonna pack that place up and sell it. You can stay here with me until it sells. You can’t go back there. You’ll just start using again.”

A few weeks later Jay moved into a new apartment, conveniently close to mine. I hosted a BBQ for him and invited all of our old friends who’d abandoned him or who just couldn’t deal with him anymore. Everyone was so surprised to see a clean and socially capable Jay. Girls hit on him again, his old band mates hugged him, and he felt good about himself for the first time in a long time.

Things were going really well… He stayed clean, got a new job in a sound studio and even had a cute girlfriend. I was so proud of him and felt like a parent releasing their child into the world after college graduation.

Then one day I got a phone call.

It was the phone call I always knew could come, but hoped wouldn’t.

It was Jay’s mom.

He was dead.