February 2009


I had a lovely English Pancake Day. 

Because I am not religious, I was not aware of the significance of Pancake Day  in London, also known as Mardi Gras in the USA.

A friend, Baby Boy, invited me over to hers for pancakes.  She is quite a good cook and operates in the kitchen with ease. 

 Everything was made from scratch.  The savory and sweet fillings were delicious and the pancakes turned out light and fluffy.  

Baby Boy is a painter and some of her work can be seen at Mandy McCartin\’s photostream.

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I have found out that I don’t know how to date anymore.  Before my 5 1/2 year relationship, I was super smooooth.  I could make a gorgeous lady flutter just by looking at her. (I’m sticking to my story)  Out of my entire sexual life, it has been rare for anyone to turn me down or turn me away.  Now, I’m 5 1/2 years older, gained a bit of weight, lost a bit of confidence and am  realizing that I no longer have a clue.  I don’t know how I lost the notorious dating mojo, but I did.  I’m not used to rejection but have now received two let downs in the past four weeks. One I deserved because my style was obviously rudimentary.  The other, she was just plain rude.   Don’t get me wrong, I still receive attention from various and assorted, but thats not the point.  I want the ones that I’m selecting,  the ones that tick my tock and make me fly, high.  I want a mutual spin.  Not a one way, one sided  ticket.  Maybe I’m  reeking of desperation or looking too hungry.  That never stopped the magic of the mojo working for me before.  As a matter of fact, the hungrier I was, the more I was fed.  What has changed?  How did I slip between the dating cracks?  More importantly, how do I climb back out?  Though it pains me, I’m not opposed to accepting help from the charitable beautiful. 

If your answer is ‘maybe you should wait because you haven’t gotten over your ex yet’, I will ask you to move to the back of the line so someone else can speak.  Thank you.

PS.  I know.  I have to accept rejection, just like everybody else.  But I don’t want to.  Thats my story and I’m sticking to it.  Thanks for listening to my rant.

I mean Valentine’s Day.  I used to love it because it meant the day to show people an extra bit of attention.  Friends, family, my girlfriend, whomever I felt a spot of love for.  But I tell ya, being surrounded (for years) by people that run from the idea of extra sweetness will eventually put a crimp in your style.

Consider me crimped. Bah Humbug.  Check back with me next year for a change in my attitude.  Meanwhile, I’m going to go out and dance into an anti-Valentines Day frenzy. I’ll be doing choreographed moves, complete with leaps, batons and screeches.  I may even land on top of some doe eyed innocent who doesn’t understand interpretive dance.

Happy Anti-Valentines Day to you.  *passes out really good chocolates anyway*   🙂

I’ve written fiction, creative non-fiction, scifi/fantasy/horror and erotica. Not to mention a non-fiction manuscript that I mailed to a gazillion publishers who in return, gave me their arse to kiss. When I talked to established authors about my never having been published and my stack of rejection letters, they laughed.

I was told, “You don’t have enough rejection letters. This proves you haven’t been sending out a sufficient amount.” Since I received a dressing down instead of sympathy, I produced more work to send out.  One competition that I entered was Write Queer London. It was sponsored by UntoldLondon, The Museum Of London. The topic was queer London, past present and future.

After several weeks of thinking about what to write and coming up empty, James Baldwin, the black, gay,  American novelist popped into my head and gave me a talking to. *cue drum roll* My short story, Just Like James placed in the competition. Though I didn’t win, being a runner up is still mighty sweet. *does happy dance*

Prizes will be presented at a special evening event at the Museum in Docklands on Thursday 5th February 2009. There will be entertainment, free wine and a DJ afterwards. All are welcome. The event is free and open to the public.

Thank you Sir James Baldwin. Thank you Atsa for your past writing support.

Jogging Experience #2

Today it was bitter cold and snowing. At times like this, people with any sense know to stay inside and keep warm. Priding myself on having some sense, I texted my jogging partner to reschedule our jaunt for another day.

She showed up, on schedule and ready to go. I ran outside, grumbling and shivering. She was all smiles and goodness. Bless. I had promised myself that I would show some pride and not do the crawling and wailing scenario again. I felt sure about my resolve until the wind peeled me back like a facelift gone wrong. The tears started rolling and to make matters even worse, they froze on my face. My nose started running and yes, I did care how that made me look.

We chugged along, me gasping for breath, her moving as if she was doing something less strenuous than drinking a cup of tea. When she asked, “Isn’t this weather wonderful?” is when I realized that my jogging partner was a cyborg. A patient, kind one with a gentle voice, but nevertheless, a jogging cyborg.

We had pre-planned doing six laps for our second session. After running three, maybe four laps, she announced in her sweet, non-threatening voice. “That’s two.” Whoa, Nelly. I’m pretty sure I can count. I had icicles piercing my skin, a white head of snow and frostbitten ears. Enough was enough! Once I’d finished setting the jogging world right, she said in her patient, kind way (imagine that you hear her voice) “No. It was two.”

We ran. She counted. It snowed. I froze. It was beautiful.