stuffandthings
Missing from pic is Kaore!  SUCK THE JOY PODCAST  #suckthejoy

Missing from pic is Kaore! SUCK THE JOY PODCAST #suckthejoy

Candice was no doctor, but she had made it through school with honors and degrees. She had job offers and ideas came to her so quickly, she found herself unable to keep them all organized. Envelopes and the corners of book pages and notebooks were covered in scribbled brilliance. She woke in the morning with stories in her head and a lightness in her heart. She sprouted herbs on her kitchen windowsill and sang as she did most things. But time and men and things happened and Candice took a turn.  Before long she had internet shopped her savings away, and blocked the sun from her windows with boxes she would never open. She stopped cleaning and lived with insects. Candice was no doctor, but she knew, just by looking, that the spider bites on her leg were not healing.   #nightwalk

Candice was no doctor, but she had made it through school with honors and degrees. She had job offers and ideas came to her so quickly, she found herself unable to keep them all organized. Envelopes and the corners of book pages and notebooks were covered in scribbled brilliance. She woke in the morning with stories in her head and a lightness in her heart. She sprouted herbs on her kitchen windowsill and sang as she did most things. But time and men and things happened and Candice took a turn. Before long she had internet shopped her savings away, and blocked the sun from her windows with boxes she would never open. She stopped cleaning and lived with insects. Candice was no doctor, but she knew, just by looking, that the spider bites on her leg were not healing. #nightwalk

Reggie was the last to look through the hole that led into the girls’ locker room. All of the boys before him had made soft sounds and come away from the wall, seemingly changed. Something magical was in there, Reggie guessed. He had never seen his friends and classmates so quiet and flushed. Cheeks red and eyes glistening. When Reggie took his turn, the broken tile around the hole was warm from the faces of his fellow virgins. So many hormones and thoughts bringing blood to the skin surface. Reggie didn’t know why, but suddenly the girls on the other side of the wall  noticed his eye on them. Like a blinking fingertip…taking in all of the shapes and newness. Reggie was no genius, but he knew magic when he saw it. ‘Abra Kadabra, Ladies’ Reggie whispered.   #nightwalk

Reggie was the last to look through the hole that led into the girls’ locker room. All of the boys before him had made soft sounds and come away from the wall, seemingly changed. Something magical was in there, Reggie guessed. He had never seen his friends and classmates so quiet and flushed. Cheeks red and eyes glistening. When Reggie took his turn, the broken tile around the hole was warm from the faces of his fellow virgins. So many hormones and thoughts bringing blood to the skin surface. Reggie didn’t know why, but suddenly the girls on the other side of the wall noticed his eye on them. Like a blinking fingertip…taking in all of the shapes and newness. Reggie was no genius, but he knew magic when he saw it. ‘Abra Kadabra, Ladies’ Reggie whispered. #nightwalk

The area was a bit red, but Carl felt confident that the wound was healing. It was to be expected. Even professional surgeries could go awry, or at least, encounter complications. All Carl knew was that he felt lighter. More alive. More… real.  Finally that extra piece was gone. That thing that would not let him be the woman he had always felt he was. The little girl he wanted to be all through childhood. Carl had done a good and careful job with the blade and stitching. The flesh was sculpted to be seen and to receive.  Carl took a good long look in the mirror, and then went to find a nice pen. He…no, She,  wanted to practice writing her new name. In print and cursive. Even bubble letters the way girls did in the 80’s.  Carla….Carla….Carla…Carla.     #nightwalk

The area was a bit red, but Carl felt confident that the wound was healing. It was to be expected. Even professional surgeries could go awry, or at least, encounter complications. All Carl knew was that he felt lighter. More alive. More… real. Finally that extra piece was gone. That thing that would not let him be the woman he had always felt he was. The little girl he wanted to be all through childhood. Carl had done a good and careful job with the blade and stitching. The flesh was sculpted to be seen and to receive. Carl took a good long look in the mirror, and then went to find a nice pen. He…no, She, wanted to practice writing her new name. In print and cursive. Even bubble letters the way girls did in the 80’s. Carla….Carla….Carla…Carla. #nightwalk

Pete and Sal moved carefully in the grass. Barefoot and naked, both of them tried to laugh off the shame of being lost and without any real memory of the past day or two. Sure, there were moments each could recall: Pete had fragmented images of building a fire and tossing his shoes into the flames, and then of stepping on something sharp and being fascinated with the way his heel bled. Sal remembered writing words in the dirt with a tree branch, and then rolling across the words and reciting them aloud as they flattened beneath her weight, almost erased. She did not remember taking off her clothes, but she felt remorse over the pair of jeans she knew she would never see again. Pete told Sal he knew they had been intimate, but only his body and that special soreness told him so. Sal did not look at him, but smiled. She had a similar soreness along with the memory of Pete’s face very very close to hers.   #nightwalk

Pete and Sal moved carefully in the grass. Barefoot and naked, both of them tried to laugh off the shame of being lost and without any real memory of the past day or two. Sure, there were moments each could recall: Pete had fragmented images of building a fire and tossing his shoes into the flames, and then of stepping on something sharp and being fascinated with the way his heel bled. Sal remembered writing words in the dirt with a tree branch, and then rolling across the words and reciting them aloud as they flattened beneath her weight, almost erased. She did not remember taking off her clothes, but she felt remorse over the pair of jeans she knew she would never see again. Pete told Sal he knew they had been intimate, but only his body and that special soreness told him so. Sal did not look at him, but smiled. She had a similar soreness along with the memory of Pete’s face very very close to hers. #nightwalk

#findingcarter #post #110

#findingcarter #post #110

Bring the kids!

Bring the kids!

The gang.

The gang.

Friends.

Friends.

Arthur was in room 16 and had always been very kind to Elise. He seemed grateful for the attention and company when she came to bathe him or change his bedding. The assisted living home was a fair one, but not a place Elise would ever want to place someone she loved. Nor would she hope to live there in her later years. She needed the job and took it, thinking mostly of the paycheck and the chance to be seen as a good thing when she entered a room. She had never felt that. Arthur had twice over the three years told Elise quite clearly that she reminded him of ‘his favorite girl’.  Elise imagined this was a young love, or a friend he always wanted to kiss. She even wrote to her sister in an email that Arthur had said this to her, and that it made her feel special. As Arthur became more ill and time took its grip on him, he began to simply stare at Elise and sometimes clench his fists around his sheets. Once he reached for Elise and held her wrist too tightly. That evening, in her own quiet apartment, Elise iced her arm and wondered what Arthur had wanted. There was a need in his grip. Nine days later, and just before Arthur passed, a woman came to see him. She told Arthur that she would never forgive him and that she hoped he would suffer, as she did. ‘As my little girl did’ she told him. Arthur whispered that she was ‘his favorite.’ and then Elise and the woman both froze. ‘Killing her was like falling asleep in a perfect chair.’  Elise covered her mouth and the woman ran from the room.   #nightwalk

Arthur was in room 16 and had always been very kind to Elise. He seemed grateful for the attention and company when she came to bathe him or change his bedding. The assisted living home was a fair one, but not a place Elise would ever want to place someone she loved. Nor would she hope to live there in her later years. She needed the job and took it, thinking mostly of the paycheck and the chance to be seen as a good thing when she entered a room. She had never felt that. Arthur had twice over the three years told Elise quite clearly that she reminded him of ‘his favorite girl’. Elise imagined this was a young love, or a friend he always wanted to kiss. She even wrote to her sister in an email that Arthur had said this to her, and that it made her feel special. As Arthur became more ill and time took its grip on him, he began to simply stare at Elise and sometimes clench his fists around his sheets. Once he reached for Elise and held her wrist too tightly. That evening, in her own quiet apartment, Elise iced her arm and wondered what Arthur had wanted. There was a need in his grip. Nine days later, and just before Arthur passed, a woman came to see him. She told Arthur that she would never forgive him and that she hoped he would suffer, as she did. ‘As my little girl did’ she told him. Arthur whispered that she was ‘his favorite.’ and then Elise and the woman both froze. ‘Killing her was like falling asleep in a perfect chair.’ Elise covered her mouth and the woman ran from the room. #nightwalk

Missed these guys.

Missed these guys.

More Sunday a.m.

More Sunday a.m.

Sunday Morning. Flowers from Alex M.

Sunday Morning. Flowers from Alex M.

On the ride to work. #gratitude

On the ride to work. #gratitude

FINDING CARTER edit begins!!

FINDING CARTER edit begins!!