I have entered so many contests, And I’m starting to wonder why, Just sitting here thinking about it, Makes me want to cry. I always try to do my best, To make my words compelling, I make sure not to use text speak, And I even check my spelling. But it seems that whatever I do, My words just get neglected, And though I start with high hopes, I always end up feeling rejected. I wish I knew the judge’s address, Or at least...

random thoughtson a rainy nightrain drops fallingthunder boominglighting crackingpower flickeringdog hidingwhere are the matchesand the candlesdarknesstripping over furnitureno TVtalk to my otherbring the A gamebegging to bedfinding the dogkissing cuddling making the movelights come onTV comes ondancing with the starshave I told you I hate the rain

« Did the Waitress Just Wink at Me? Today, dear readers, the exploration of my sexual identity continues. As you loyal bloggies — if people who write blogs are bloggers, those who read them must be bloggies, right? — are aware, it's a topic that has been on my mind lately, basically ever since I cast off my third boyfriend in six months. (For the record, the orgasm ratio in those three relationships combined was about 40:...

Let me tell you about my pets. I wonder why they're known as pets, because you pet them? Can't be, nobody pets a goldfish, do they? I've seen people pet a parrot, damn near lost a finger, too. Anyway, I was telling you about my critters. Right now, I've got four, two dogs and two cats. I've heard some folks say they own them. No such thing. Cattle maybe, or sheep. But pets agree to live with you, you don't own them. Espec...

This is the story surrounding the beginning of my family. I was born and raised in Central Massachusetts. My wife was born in Germany and came to this country as a displaced person from World War II. We grew up around the corner from each other and went to school together. I never dated her until I came back from serving my country during the Vietnam War. We got married on June 5, 1970, in a small Quaker Meeting House. My...

Once again it’s that time of year, When political banter seems the rage. When otherwise normal people, Try to come off as some worldly sage. I have friends who are really nice folks, Any other time of the year. But, once they start with the political rants, I really don’t want them near. Of course, their views are always right, How could it be any other way? And you too could be right like them, If you just listen to what...

This is written as a stand alone story but might be better understood by reading the first chapter Bill and Veronica had fallen in love under unusual circumstances. They had met on a blind date set up by his friend, Don, and Don's object of desire, Kathy. They were attracted to each other from the first sight. At least Bill was, as the second he laid eyes on the beautiful Veronica he was stricken with a bad case of love o...

If anyone likes this I'll continue with it. “Bill, you have to help me out! “I do, huh? Why do I?' “Come on, haven't we been friends since grade school? Think of all the times I've helped you out.” “That wouldn't take long. What did you do now? I haven't any bail money, so forget that”. “No no, I'm not in trouble with the law. You know Kathy Pack, don't you? I've got a chance for a date with her.” “Yeah, I know Kathy, we...

By using today’s technology you can lessen the pain that your passing causes loved ones. All it takes is a little bit of planning and the help of a trusted friend. What follows are observations and suggestions from people current, past, and passed about how to lessen shock and help people cope when you expire. (1) You are the best person to tell others that you are dead. So do it! Just proceed as follows. (Note: Though th...

I have a friend who says she lost her mojo. Where it went she says she doesn’t really know. She swears she has looked high and low. Now where the hell could a mojo go? I asked her if she looked under the bed. Or maybe in the back of the closet instead. Then again maybe it’s still inside her head. In a place where her thoughts rarely tred. Mojos are strange and hard to describe. Like nailing Jello to a tree it’s often been...

As I have perused the profile pages of our membership I have often wondered why people have chosen to use the pseudonyms and pictures they have decided on. So I have decided to do an analysis of this phenomenon. To be fair, I shall begin with my own. Rascal I chose this alias because this is probably the tamest of the considerable number of names I have been addressed by, many of which I can't put down in a social site of...

I've tried to write this as a stand alone story but might be better understood if you first read “The Town Drunk” which can be found on my page. David Meyer and his partner, Emmett Wolf, had become wealthy men when they had partnered on a gold mine. Almost overnight, they had been changed from whiskey swilling virtual nonentities to whiskey swilling respected, even influential, citizens of the town. The habits that they h...

Dave was a slight man, looking years older than his actual age, and showing no vestiges of prosperity, even looking quite shabby, which led to the name almost everyone knew him by, Shoddy. He didn't seem to mind as he never corrected anyone, but when asked would tell them his name, which didn't happen very much. Sometimes a newcomer to town might inquire, but newcomers didn't happen very much, either. He was known as the...

I have heard it said, that at my age life is golden.What was meant when these words were spoken? Reaching this time of life, I find to be anything but golden.Old age leaving my body less flexible and somewhat broken. My mind plays tricks, telling me I am still eighteen.Body touts frequently, that I am an antique machine. Looking at my reflection, I now see when into the mirror I peers.Wild hairs growing from the end of my...

Coffee. What Sam needed was coffee. He was a walking zombie, desperate for caffeine. It was a condition of his own making, he had to admit, since he was the one who'd wanted to drive on their family vacation instead of flying. And so they had spent more than 40 percent of their holiday — two days down and two days back — stuffed into a Hyundai Sonata, a car which seemed roomy enough during his solo daily commute but quick...