Blue at the Beach

Bad Donut
Bad Donut

Ambien at the beach!
I went to the beach not too long ago…Martha’s Vineyard! Of course, that is where you would find the highest population of white on white bodies needing to get over their over fed ideas on wealth and wisdom.
Any who!
At the beach, Mother Theresa found a shell and stated to me:
Pick it up and hold it close to your one good ear, Ambien! You can hear your future in it!
I shook the water and ideas loose from my dyed to be blonde head and held the untidy shell close. Soon I would be hearing my life’s untold story!
Waiting and waiting some more. I listened intently for my up and coming events of saving the world with misspelled ‘big’ words and bequeathing the poor and impoverished one double scooped ice cream at a time. Thank Christ for an allowance.
What had my one good ear and my one soiled shell told me?
Not one fuckin’ thing! A crab scurried out, bit my ear and now I have crabs. I will never listen to Mummy or my future again!

...look Ambien, there's a whale!
…look Ambien, there’s a whale!

Ambien, Annie, Gracie thought for the day:
“A small mind is a place where there is no place to go where you shouldn’t.”

the Good Mother

We never did too much talkin' anyway
We never did too much talkin’ anyway

 

Get this: When I was young I stole, drank, pillaged and plundered…not once had the word, DISOWNMENT been mentioned.
If nothing else, my strictly Catholic without Deviation Parents embraced my Avant-Garde thoughts and my off the cuff ideals. Homosexuality? Individuality? Question Authority? All characteristics Ma and Pa New Hampshire endorsed and encouraged.
While on my tour of Ambien Grace-land this past summer, the word, DISOWNMENT had been used in over 60 messages.
All relating to Ambien’s no quite so devoted democratic Mother and her strange twist on sexual idealism.
‘My mother will disown me if she finds out I’m gay, again!’
‘That’s why I have no social life…there have already been threats of disownment with Penny.’
‘I hope you’ll understand I can’t come out to my mother right now…she’ll disown me.’

Being gay is completely against nature so it is wrong.”  via Mother Theresa, supposed Enlightened Elitist Professing these thoughts at a State University near you.

Can there be forgiveness on her part? What should a twenty two year old do with a parent like that? How dare anyone be different than a stereotypical white bread upper middle class never touched a minority in her life, Adopt-A-Mother?
I believe Mother Theresa and Ann Coulter are the same devil in unnatural fibers:
Ann Coulter, of course, was “just kidding,” no doubt, when she wrote via Twitter, “Last Thursday was national ‘coming out’ day. This Monday is national ‘disown your son’ day.”

Ha ha! Wow, that is so funny. I’m sure that the more than 100,000 homeless LGBTQ youth — who literally have been disowned and kicked out of their homes by their parents just because they are LGBTQ — are laughing.
And, I honestly believe the suicidal tendencies of closeted Young Americans would lighten up a little if they just took themselves less seriously.
What a research project this family and many others like it could be for the right extremist out of the closet after years of hatred and bigotry, lesbian!
Yet, as Ambien once said, I just have to learn to work around her and lie to her…that’s just how it is…
Putting to shame all the out lesbians, transgendered, gay men and ‘different’ not earth people everywhere!

Don’t think twice…Ambien’s, Annie’s, Gracie’s of the World…it’s alright!

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter anyhow
When the rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m travelin’ on
But don’t think twice, it’s all right.
It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
It’s a light I never knowed
It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
I’m on the dark side of the road
Still, I wish there was something you could do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin’ anyway
So don’t think twice, it’s all right.
It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, now
Like you’ve never done before
It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, now
I can’t hear you anymore
I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child, I’m told
I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don’t think twice, it’s all right.
I’m walkin’ down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I’m bound, I can’t tell
But goodbye’s too good a word, babe
So I’ll just say “Fare Thee Well.”

I ain't saying you treated me unkind  You could have done better, but I don't mind  You just kinda wasted my precious time
I ain’t saying you treated me unkind
You could have done better, but I don’t mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time

But don’t think twice, it’s all right
Don’t think twice, it’s all right.

Hometown Hero

Though marketed to heterosexual men, lesbian p...
Though marketed to heterosexual men, lesbian pulp fiction provided an identity to isolated women in the 1950s. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
'does not play well with others..'
‘does not play well with others..’

Who knew?
The bully up in the classroom? The rapist lurking ’round the crevices of Whitamore Stadium? The brick and mortar that made up the fine privileges of the privileged few at UNH?
Did Beckett Couvillion know I was a lesbian? Probably, he’s always been the smarter of the two of us.
My birth mother Josie, she knew. She said these exact words to me. Well, honestly, she messaged me but you get the idea.
“Ambien, if your other mother finds out you’re getting around with a married woman, she’ll kill her or throw her in jail.”
My best friend knew. Not sure which best friend it was at the time, I’ve had so many, but I told the whole friend community on Facebook. Worked like a charm once I used Friend Finder.
Friends, true and blue until the end. Or, until I decide to quit drinking!
Everyone knew but po’ ole Mother Theresa. I can see her sitting behind her speechless with the pathology of unwarranted hatred, desk, right now. Wanting to go for a jog! Wanting to find me a suitor, boned in! Chomping at the bit and hoping that this whole sordid affair didn’t get publicized via UNH trash talk.
I wish I could have told her sooner. As it was, I was called disgusting, unlovable and despicable. Nevermind Kate. Theresa was ready to get the Father Floyd Calvary out!
Fuck, that would have been a sight. Father Floyd embodied by over the top beer and fattening foods and in this corner, Kate. Middle aged lesbian with an attitude and a ‘does not play well with others’ way of dealing with the world.
Hands down, Kate would kick some might white and tighty whitey’s butt. If Floyd didn’t have that whole missing testes thing going on Kate probably would have served those up to her ruthless but proud Heinz 57 mutt.
No matter, I’m not really gay. I just play a lesbian on the short-circuit TV that runs through my stout and not out frame.
May is coming up soon. So long Virginia. Along comes a break from volunteering to clean up water fountains at the local park and I’m right smack dab in the ‘when are you going to grow up’ land once again.
Fuck Kate. The whole thing was a set up. I know she wanted Zoey first. I just happened to be more desperate looking. More worthy of her ‘set the phobia’s not straight’ writer’s quest she’d been on.
So, the book will come out. The nudity will leave many readers in awe and asking themselves, ‘I’m not so obese after all, am I?’
The sexual depravity in the woods, up the butt, tied up, spanked and yanked will be on the cover of the Concord Monitor.
‘Your Hometown Hero, Ambien Grace’
Shit, ‘ya, bring it on.

In the Air tonight, jealousy!

Jealousy
Jealousy (Photo credit: hotdiggitydogs)

I am inexplicably and without too much flair a watered down version of Mother Theresa, educated, well breed and that didn’t seem to be Zoey’s uncategorized type. I used Zoey to see Kate…I never told her that. But it had been the only way to get out from the mighty grip of homophobic Mother Theresa.
Mum didn’t and doesn’t like Zoey either. She often questioned why I would stoop as low as friending someone not from our ‘financial’ bracket and our ‘oh, so politically correct on the outside’ family demeanor.
Possessive ness has been a friend of mine for more years than I have pretended to be an adult. The words, share, Kate and Zoey, tested my pill consumption to the max.
Typical conversation of envy, jealousy and sedatives:
‘I wish I was with you right now! What are you doing?’
 

‘It’s just me talking with my sometimes insecure girlfriend’
 

‘I love you too even though you talk to Zoey online just to get me jealous…Even if you don’t think you’re doing that…Those late night chats you have with her really upset me. I can stand you being alone with her. My brain is shutting off and the filter is gone when it comes to those last call messages.’

‘I do not want to fuck Zoey. I wish you weren’t so uptight about everything. There is that suspiciousness again. You would need to check with Zoey about this conversation because I don’t want to have it.’

The message board goes silent…
‘She is smart and can actually hold a conversation… I know I can’t give you that! But because I love you I told you even though it’s selfish of me to say that I don’t want you to talk to her! I know deep in my heart what will happen, I’ll be left again. Just let up on the get togethers for a little while.’

Silently confused with the mortal enemy, ENVY, Kate remained stoically untouched by my musing about a friendly relationship.
I ended our Zoey conversation as I always did,
That I don’t like sharing you.  I’m jealous person. Are you happy now?’
Most likely, she was not.
Deep in my heart of distorted hearts I knew what was happening. I had turned Kate away from Zoey. The old ‘poor Ambien’ worked every time. No, I didn’t want her riding on the moped with Kate…I just wanted my arms around her. Did I get pissed when Kate offered to help Zoey with her golf swing? Yup, sure as the Pope is homophobic.
Did I have to force my way in on an ‘interview’ date Kate was conducting with Zoey?   Their intimacy with mutual intelligence had me by the short hairs. And, yes, I got pissed when the article came out and I received one line!
To my clonazepam I would go. To the bizarre and off the hook texting I strolled. Anything to make that Love Connection not happen.
My biggest fear? The one I had told Kate only once and decided shortly thereafter, for both of us, that Zoey would be off limits to Kate. The biggest hair across my ass that shit’s envy?
I knew and still believe Kate had been aiming for Zoey all along. If my straight edged docksider look wasn’t really in Zoey’s sexual vocabulary. It certainly was not in Kate’s.
After much thought and medication, the two would have made a much more understandable pair. Both of them out there living on the edge, questioning authority and stepping outside the box seemed like two derelicts with the same direction.
Zoey and I still text from time to time. Avoiding the past. Avoiding the future. Avoiding what I know to be true. Kate’s bullet wasn’t aimed for me…I just happened to have my big prideful backside in the way.

The Devil is in the Detail

 

Philander; illicit sex with a woman or with many women; especially to be sexually unfaithful to one’s wife.

Lesbian philanderer; sex over and over again with women, whether the person in question is in a serious relationship or not and can also be spoken of in this manner, ‘stay away from her she is a vulture that preys on women!’

I sit in my bunk and look up at the vacant sky.  I worry and I obsess over things I have no control over.  I wonder if the short supply of psychotropic drugs will carry me through until my break and I can get back home to Beckett Couvillion the third, Mother Theresa and Father Floyd.

But of all the loose and disconnected thoughts that volunteer my senses to stand up right, I have one persistent vision.  And, it is simply this:

Kate, the married psycho-bitch, who I vowed I would attain because as I once told her, ‘I get everything I want…eventually!’

Well, the scene revolves around her and her wife, Kris.  There is a field and Kate is in the middle.  The grass blows about like a poetic Bob Dylan song.  Daisies dot the landscape like freckles on an Irishman.  To one corner there is a woman.  She is young.  Kate addresses her as, Jamie.  For some reason we already know who this brunette, 5’5” and slender with perfect breasts, is.  She is a waitress that stayed long tawdry hours at the Grill that Kate used to run.  She smiles with a sensuality that I know I will never possess.  The kind of grin that invites you in and promises you the world and leaves you with the wanting to travel.

In the opposing corner, yet, another woman.  This time her name is Jess.  She is earthen and wholesome but her shyness is somehow sexy and erotic.  Jess, as with, Jamie, is known to everyone in the field.  She too worked with Kate.  This time at a Co-op in Concord N.H., this time not as her underling but a casual flirtation from another department and buxom in her knowledge of art and poetry.  Jess, as is always the case with Kate and her ‘casual flirtations, is brunette, 5’3” tall stacked and perky and pleasant on all the senses.  Kate acknowledges her with a smirk and a nod.

In a direct angle to both women and slightly behind Kate, sits, Kris the dutiful wife.  Kris turns slightly to Kate and whispers in her ear, ‘I know you’ll never go…do what you must.’

Slowly, Kris kisses Kate on the lips.  A kiss that defines love; gentle, soft and long lasting, Kris then bows gracefully to the two other women and tells Kate to not be late for dinner.

I am nowhere to be seen in the field and I am not acknowledged.  I am vacant, I would stand out and I am very unlike everyone else in the mossy goodness of the countryside.

Kate takes both Jess and Jamie’s hands and somehow the image seems to fade like smoke from a campfire.

I am left alone.  I awaken to a new found knowledge of being duped.  A new appreciation of what an open relationship means.  And, mostly, I just then after all these months realize that these words were true.  That I had forgotten this simple conversation or played if off like it had been a mere joke.

Kate adamantly messages me, ‘My whole family is filled with philanderer’s…I think it’s in the genes. ‘

Ambien knocked down by lack of grace, ‘you can’t be serious…you can’t pass that stuff on!’

Kate finishes the message with, ‘Well, I suppose so…but I’ve been known to do it before…And, I am an addict…Maybe I’m just addicted to affairs.’

Me, ‘Ha-ha, Ha-ha…’

Where there is smoke there is fire.  When one wanders into a field with an addiction to picking young brunettes for her possession most likely she will leave

blindsided by brunettes
blindsided by brunettes

the countryside with a pocket full of pretty posies.