Vibrant.(Still) Unrepentant. Badass. Old. Queer

Good Morning, Kittens. It's a sunshiny, sparklefied day here in Vutopia ... even though I didn't get up early to go running like I told myself I would. Maybe I'll go later this afternoon or evening or something. Or maybe I'll go back to bed. Actually, the other thing I promised myself was that today would be a "Writing Day." I need to whip out some of my short stories and try to polish those turds. Fun times. In knitting news, I'm taking a break from sock knitting, and I've started on a scarf (pictured) for Mike (who Makes Cakes). Why, yes, it does use the same yarn that I used to make Josh is Trashy 's hat (good eye! you are so observant!). Chelsea sent me the yarn years ago for my birthday and I'm finally putting it to good use. I kind of like this horizonal rib thing that I have going on. And, I totally love the color. In my previous post, Terri had some questions about sock-knitting. M. Nicodemus was kind enough to provide an an...

Good Morning, Kittens. How did it get to be Wednesday already? Where is this week going? Yesterday was SuperFun. I went to the bank. And, then, I went to the hardware store and had 40 gabillion keys made. I haven't been working on the short story. It is practically finished, except for one crucial scene. And, I don't know what happens in that one crucial scene. I tried to write through it but ended up writing around it, adding several paragraphs before and after whatever happens. *sigh* Then, we had our monthly board meeting. That was *so* much fun, because we discussed our budget for next year. Woo to the hoo. Lots of excitement today: Boozy Lunch at Adega with the Fab Clio Bluestocking . Laundry. Knitting. DVD watching. AND, maybe even Martini Time! Plus, hopefully finishing up my short story. Have a great day! *smooches*

Good Morning, Kittens. Y defends his dissertation this morning. Send good vibes. Why? Because the better he does, the faster he is outta here! And that's good news for both of us. In other news, I worked a bit on my short story. I am liking the characters. I am liking the situation they are in. However, I have come to a point where I am unable to see how it is going to be resolved. Hm. Tricky. We'll see how it goes. It's rainy and gray today ... which is good writing weather, I think. Perhaps, I'll be able to write through it. Or knit and think for a bit. No big weekend plans, except for the free outdoor simulcast of The Barber of Seville tomorrow evening. If all goes as planned, there will be a Very Shallow Guest Star (+ Posse). And, it's 12 of 12 tomorrow. Look forward to fun photos, I'm sure ... especially since I have never been able to take a very good photo of said Very Shallow Guest Star. Exhibit A . Exhibit B . Exhibit C . (Srsly, she...

Good morning, kittens. According to my friend, Nida, mercury is in retrograde and that's why I (we?) feel like crapola. Great. It's only going to last another week or so. That's a good thing. I was planning to do lots of job-related searching type things yesterday; however, that didn't happen. Instead, I wrote the first 3 pages of a short story that's been clanging around in my head for about 6 months. How did that take all day? Here're the opening paragraphs: Clay "Wedging is so sexual," Tina said, as her muscular, hairy arms kneaded the lump of clay. She was using the ram's head style to force out air bubbles. "I don't know what you mean," I replied. I had chosen the more delicate spiral wedging, which created a chrysanthemum-like pattern in the wedged clay. Tina stopped wedging for a moment. It's true. I couldn't relate wedging clay to sex, since, at the ripe old age of 32, I had never had it. Unless you count the ...

A few days after 1999 melted into 2000, I was in the courtyard of Bai Yun Si, the White Cloud Temple, in Beijing with a friend. The temple was near her boyfriend's home, and I was looking for something special, something jade, something I could wear to remember my time in China. The jade disc I bought spoke to me. I probably paid more than I should have, but at less than $10, it was still a bargain. I tied it around my neck and it didn't come off for 7 years. Then, the cord broke. I replaced it, but the new knot would untie itself every few days. I wondered if Someone was trying to tell me Something. Frustrated and scared that I would lose my bi, I stopped wearing it. Last week, DUN bought new cord for me and spoke to a worker at a bead store about the best way to fasten it. Last night, I added a hook and eye clasp to the new cord. I put the bi back on ... and, it's weird, but I felt like a little piece of me had returned. I felt complete. And, then, I remembered a story I ...

Well ... here's another bit of a start of a story that I never got a round to finishing (and just found in my files): Fireflies The sky was inky black and a few streetlights flickered, mimicking the stars. The humidity of the early summer muffled sound. “It smells like crushed fireflies,” I thought. My older brother, Dan, taught me what to do. He held a jar of freshly caught fireflies. “First, you pull one out of the jar. Wait for it to flash. Then, pinch off the glowing part,” he said, his eyes flashed green in the dusk. “Put it on your finger and rub it on the sidewalk. Like this. See?” And he slowly drew part of a big ‘D’ before he had to start the process over again. Eventually, he spelled out his name, D-a-n, there on the sidewalk in front of our house. “Now, you try it.” I was fishing out my first firefly, when our mother came out of the house. “What are you two doing,” she yelled as she saw the still glowing “Dan” on the walk. “Didn’t your Daddy teach you respect for all God...

*Today is Meat-Free Monday. Do your part for the environment by enjoying a meat-free meal! I'll be having leftovers from last night (gazpacho and squash concoction ... possibly with some more squash thrown in). *While at the coffeehouse yesterday, I uploaded several of my short stories in progress to Google Documents [during which time, I learned that a Y under stress tends to be a little ... snippy ]. If anyone would like to read the two stories that are closest to being finished ( Hikkikomori and Four Letter Words ) let me know and I'll send you a viewer invitation (or whatever they're called). *[Don't forget] I'm on Facebook now. Find me. Friend me. Make me feel (more) loved.

I've been sitting here thinking about parts of one of the stories I wrote last night. I'm going to have to delete about two pages of text. It was so cliche. Yuck. I do remember liking about two sentences though. I'll keep those. I also really liked a scene (even though it needs work) that I added to another story. I have a tendency to write things that veer off into sappiness. What I added was an important course correction. Hopefully. Not that this makes any sense to anyone other than me. Sorry. And, Y just called me "pumpkin" in an IM. *giggle* This looks like an interesting job . Too bad the pay is crapola.

Sometimes, in bed, with the fans running, muffling the outside noises, in the darkness of my room, as I teeter on the edge between sleep and wake, I hear conversations. Just snippets really. Voices in the dark. And, unlike when I feel there is someone in the room with me, it isn't creepy and disturbing. In fact, it's almost comforting. The voices are soothing, like late-night lovers talking to each other in drippy sleep-filled murmurs. Someone, I don't remember who, once said, "Vuboq, the only person interested in your dreams is you." Ever since then, I've tried to keep my dreamstories to a minimum ... except when they are frequent and recurring. Because that usually means something is pricking at my subconscious, and typing it out helps me sort things through. For the past few days, my dreams have dealt with something I've been thinking about quite a lot recently: coming out to my parents. I should have done it a long time ago. It's something I...

Last night, I met up with a former co-worker and envirobuddy, Dana, for drinks at a new restaurant, Gallery. New restaurant. Old crowd. And, one of Dana's friends was not too pleasant to be around. It was a total blast catching up with Dana though ... Perhaps, a more interesting venue next time, D? After leaving Gallery, we headed over to the Whole Foods Plaza. Mmmm ... eggplant fries at Adega. And cute counter help. *giggle* Lots going on this weekend. Not only is today the one year anniversary of the breakup with the cheating cheater, BUT it is also Capitol Pride. *woot* Tonight, the kittens are gathering at Halo for happy hour [and might I add that I look particularly cute today]. Tomorrow, some of us are going with Mike to an afternoon Pre-Pride Parade Party and, then, staggering down the street to watch the parade. I don't have any plans for Sunday, but I'm fairly certain I will end up at the Street Festival at some point during the afternoon. Finally, to get everyone...

I started this short story last night, but decided it wasn't going anywhere. So, here are two paragraphs of blah. Enjoy. The Rain It smelled of rain. The morning sun crept in through the gap in our thick velvet curtains. When I opened them wider, I smelled the coming rain. I smelled it the way I always have, ever since I was a child. I smelled it the way Mama smelled the beer on my Dad’s breath, even before he started one of his drinking binges. I could smell snow, too, which makes sense, if you think about it. Snow smells like rain, only colder. I told Daniel rain was coming, but he insisted on packing the picnic basket and loading the car. “Have I ever been wrong before,” I asked him, as we drove up the mountain. “Have I?” Daniel stared straight ahead. “I don’t want to argue about this.” “OK. But don’t blame me when we’re halfway through the picnic and we have to run to the car.” “Why did you come then,” he asked with frustration. “Why did you insist on going,” I replied. “This...

Vuboq wanted to write about Rejection Avoidance Response Reactions and the Path of Least Resistance; however, his brain is no longer switch to thinky . Sorry. Instead, I will treat you to an excerpt from the story I'm working on. It takes place about midway through. Enjoy. Or don't. See if I care. August was almost over. Since Pride, my romantic adventures had been few and far between. Come to think of it, since Pride, my romantic adventures had been hovering somewhere between zero and zilch. “You are practically Victorian,” Will said to me one night at the bar. “I prefer that to your Clintonian standards,” I replied. Nothing interesting ever happened behind my green baize door.

As some of you may know, I dabble in short story writing. I am working on an almost final revision of the second story I wrote for my class this past term. I have this vague memory of reading or hearing a quote many, many years ago, which I thought was attributed to Virginia Woolf; however, I can not find any reference to it. I've asked a few friends, who are more literary than I, and searched Google to no avail. The quote is along the lines of: "Who knows what goes on behind the green velvet curtains?" and is, I think, pertaining to the idea that Victorians were complete prudes in public, but their private lives remained secretive and, possibly even, scandalous . If anyone has any idea what I'm talking about, please please please please please let me know either by commenting below or emailing. I will be most appreciative. I may even knit you something. Other than that, last night, I emailed The Date last a -hopefully- more mature version of the Grade School ...

My final short story writing class was very good. There were cookies. COOKIES, people! COOKIES!!! However, I missed my usual bus home. The next one was late. I didn't get home until after eleven, and didn't get to bed until midnight:30. A very special note to the people who were waiting at the bus stop almost directly under my bedroom window: It is possible that the reason you have whiny, cranky, crying children is because you are making them stand in the cold at a bus stop at midnight:45. And, sometimes, oddly enough, people who have a bedroom window which overlooks the bus stop are trying to sleep at that time. Not very successfully though. Thus, VUBOQ is a tad cranky this morning. I'm sure it will only get worse as the day progresses. I am such a joy to be around. Really. Love me. Love my crankiness. *smooches* Mid-Morning UPDATE: I've been asked to choose my favorite blog post. I've been scrolling through my archives all morning, and, what can I say? THEY AR...

I just realized I have like 5 stories to read and critique for our last class tomorrow. How many have I read and critiqued? Um... Not 5. Meanwhile ... I ate the rest of my chocolate. It was SUPER-YUM. I want more. Must. Resist. *resistance is futile* The weather's really nice and our office stinks of paint. I may have to venture outside for awhile. I could read some of the stories then, but I am uninspired to do anything other than resemble my favorite vegetable. Maybe I'll wander around the Borders for awhile ...

Need a few things to do to while away the hours on Vuboq's Birthday Eve Eve? First, repeat steps 1-4 of yesterday's entry as needed. Second, take a few moments to read this article to see why several "power" bloggers have temporarily misplaced their senses of humor and have gotten their collective panties all in a knot: Stating the Obvious by Garrison Keillor Check out Famous Author Rob Byrnes' blog for his commentary and links to "the knotted." Seriously, shouldn't more people be pissed off about Marine General Pace's hate speech than a -rather boring- piece of obvious satire written by a well-known humorist? Which brings us to the subject of humor ... How do we know what is funny and what isn't? As I read my story to the class last night, there were several instances in which everyone in the class laughed. As I was writing the story, my intention was to be witty and clever, not laugh-out-loud funny. Maybe it's funnier read aloud ...

1. Ask yourself, "Have I mailed Vuboq's birthday card yet?" 1a. If no, get thee to a post office pronto, kitten. 1b. If yes, have a celebratory martini! 2. Ask yourself, "Have I ordered Vuboq's expensive birthday present yet?" 2a. If no, for god's sake, kitten, what are you waiting for? The grass to grow? 2b. If yes, have a celebratory martini! 3. Ask yourself, "Have I emailed Vuboq an e-birthday card yet?" 3a. If no, do it! Now! [They are FREE, you know, and they show that you care] 3b. If yes, have a celebratory martini! 4. Ask yourself, "Have I sent the million dollar money order to Vuboq yet?" 4a. If no, um ... why not? 4b. If yes, have a celebratory martini. Hell, Vuboq will personally deliver your celebratory martini. Things Vuboq is Doing on His Birthday Eve Eve Eve: 1. "Working" 2. Going to Class, where he is going to premiere his latest short story, which isn't quite finished yet, which is making him panic just ...

In the end, the snow stopped. The sidewalks and roads were clear, or at least clear enough. So, I ate dinner and headed to class. It was good. However, it would seem that I have volunteered to read aloud another story for next week. The problem? I don't have another story. Well, I have a story idea floating in my head and about 3 pages of scribbled notes to myself - written on the metro, written in the middle of the night, written when I had an idea that I didn't want to forget. Starting today, I will attempt to pull together those ideas into something more cohesive. *egh* I told the instructor I would email him about my progress on Sunday. Deadlines. Deadlines are good. The problem I have with writing is that I come up with some -IMHO- interesting ideas, yet I can't translate those ideas into an actual story. I feel like I am writing a scene, a snapshot of someone's life. And, whenever I attempt to continue the scene, I fall into the Land of Bland, where every...

The snow is still falling, but it doesn't seem to be sticking to the roads and sidewalks. It makes me wonder if my class will be cancelled tonight or not. So far, the website says the Writer's Center will be open. Class doesn't start until 7:30. I finish work at 4:30 (or 5), so I usually go home first to eat dinner. Then, I leave around 6:15/30. If the snow continues, I will more than likely not feel like leaving the house. I would rather not miss a session, but venturing forth in the cold and snow is not my idea of a fun time ... I'm crossing my fingers that class will be cancelled. On the bright side, if I don't go to class, I can do my laundry tonight. Which means I can participate in Dining Out for Life tomorrow.

Class. It ran late. I didn't get home 'til late. Then, I wanted to make a few edits to my story. I didn't get to bed until after midnight. I. Am. Ti-RED. Class was good. We critiqued two stories. Next week, we have to critique three. *geh* I think if I decide to take another course at the Writer's Center , I will look for one that has a bit more structure to it. I'm not saying this course is bad. I enjoy reading other people's work, but it's not getting me writing as much as I want. I think I need more direction ... at least at first. I have ideas which I think are pretty good story starters, but I don't really know where to go with them. And when I "free write," carrying the characters I've created across the page, they tend towards sappy, melodramatic, cliche moments. Y'know: Boy meets Boy. Boy loses Boy. Boy gets Boy back, kinda things. Meanwhile, how about some more people take the poll in the previous entry? Hmmm? I'm a little ...