Grief is an exquisite taunting monster.
With tears merging into a continual rivulet of mourning,
One day I will outrun you.
As I become more and more invested in my own type of online community, I’ve come across a number of authentic friendships based on shared experiences and common interests such as T.V. and movie fandoms, music and message boards. Many of these cyber communities can evolve into well established daily routines, serving as a safe, fun and harmless part of one’s social life.
Don’t misunderstand me, these cyber connections are not meant as a replacement for actual real life relationships. Rather, they can become another avenue of our socialization.
Given human nature as it is, daily interaction probably includes lots of witty banter and some form (or forms) of flirtation resulting in “intimate” cyber-evoked connection(s).
In this age of online living, when two people become enamored with one another can an otherwise committed person be guilty of emotional cheating? Even in the non-cyber world, is emotional cheating just as harmful as physical cheating?
What’s your view?
Today began as really lovely day. A morning perfect for making the kitchen sing in delectable mouth-watering aromatic harmony. For reveling with the joyful folks across the pond at news of the sweet little princess whilst (see what I did there) enjoying a cupful of caffeine goodness. A day tailor-made for – gaak! What the holy-trying-not-cuss-on-a-Sunday is that?
Either my myopia was deceiving me or there was a king cobra in the backyard. And it was after our goldfish…and our dog. Our geriatric, slightly arthritic, near-sighted dog that was on his way to woof good morning to the koi like he always did.
Quick decision time. Do I wake my fearless woman up to get rid of the snake? Naw, I already know shi would have none of that. Call Animal Control? The police? Whistle and cross my fingers that my deaf dog heard me?
He didn’t hear me – and was headed straight for that venomous slithering killer. Nothing left to do but take the ginger-cumin chicken out of the oven, keep the oven mitts on in case the viper tried to sink its fangs into me and go outside to rescue my thirteen year-old great-dane baby.
After ever so cautiously opening the sliding door, I tip-toed with coffee pot in mitted hand (I needed a weapon!) toward the pond – and the cobra’s head followed my every move!
[channelling my butch-wife] Fuck a good duck. [/channelling] I meant, “Don’t worry big boy. Mama’s coming!”
Every December 31st brings not only a bright and shiny New Year for everyone, but another birthday for me. This year these two arrived like clockwork but something rather phenomenal tagged along.
What is it you ask? Hint: it isn’t this fierce coffee mug I’ve dubbed “The Winking Femme” but that thingamabob hovering over it. Yes, Virginia – it’s a new-classic-vintage apparatus known as a percolator.
…and as I’m getting ready for a second cup – which I never have by the by – I flash deuces at all of our lovely readers (especially those of the Caffeination Power Nation 😉 ) for a peaceful day and prosperous 2015.
Settling down with a thick-n-juicy steak and scotch on the rocks, as I start my quest to find a reflection of my lesbian sisters on the first and only TV station dedicated to “GAY LIFE”!
Twenty odd years ago when I was younger, capable and totally queer, I marched to the White House to free South Africa and protested in front of the Supreme Court to overturn the Bakke decision. I represented and partied at our annual Gay Pride Parade. Raised by my mother to volunteer I did just that, sewing and walking amongst the HIV/AIDS quilts of my dying and departed gay brothers, family and more friends than I want to count. As an out and proud member of the LGBT community, I’ve manned a few tables to solicit both volunteers and donations to help the needy, ill and homeless.
All the death and suffering rallied me to come to the aid of those sick and dying within our community…and I was not alone. While most of the world ran for cover – or at the very least bleach, masks and full-body condoms – many a lesbian broke bread with the afflicted. That’s right, we dyke sisters rolled up our proverbial flannel sleeves and got to work! Food banks were organized, support groups and hotlines were staffed with competent people, in-home visit teams were created and so much more. Continue reading