Apocalypse NOW

If you had an ant farm, and the ants started to cultivate a toxic fungus that began to threaten the existence of their environment, and they fought constantly with each other, and you caught them murdering their own pupae, what would you do? Would you torch that shit and start over? Because that’s what I would do.

As time ticks down to the next supposed apocalypse, I wonder as I think many of us do, if it would be so bad if we all were exterminated. We’re the only animal smart enough to shit where we eat. The only ones knowingly killing the very life that supports us. I think that makes us a parasite, a disease.

All I’ve been able to think about for the past few days has been that sick little piece of shit in Connecticut and all of the babies he slaughtered. Probably in a pathetic attempt to “feel” something, because, poor guy, he just couldn’t summon any feelings. So he shot his mom, nope, felt nothing, let’s see if he does when he kills the most innocent of the innocent. I see all their smiling faces in the endless news stories about the “senseless tragedy, the horror the horror!” and I wish someone had smothered him as a child when he started to show those psychopath tendencies. I also know that if I were the mother of such a child, I wouldn’t be able to do that. I can’t imagine what she went through, or what their home life might have been like. I do know the murderer should have been locked up somewhere, screw his rights and screw trying to make him better. A human that can’t feel is eventually going to want to do so. What lengths might he go to? I guess now we know.

I overhear voices all around me, what is this world coming to? How have things gotten so bad? I don’t think anything has changed since the beginning of time. We’re the same restless conniving animal that we always have been. Villages were burned, children slaughtered by assholes and “possessed” madmen but it wasn’t news spread ‘round the world. Herod slew all the firstborn, and sure the story was passed down but I doubt many have accurately imagined what that was like. It was an accepted part of life that horror and tragedy existed. And of course, we didn’t have the hive-mentality internet to speed our rubbernecking. I also wonder how many would-be murderers were brave enough to walk into a gathering in the Old West, when everyone was armed. If they got a few shots off I’d be surprised.

I’ve been watching with interest the rash of UFO sightings in the news, this time in national and local real news (if you can call Fox that) and not just on the crazy UFO fan-sites. What if they are finally ready to reveal themselves? Will society be stood on its head, religion washed away in the light of some fantastic revelation? Will we all finally know what our governments have been hiding for years? The possibilities fascinate me. Just imagine our lives changing in the blink of an eye as we finally realize the total sum of our immense arrogance. Right before we all get zapped!


Happy One Year of Blog Writing to Me!

Wow, a whole year working on this project! That’s a record for me, and it means there’s something here. I’ve started and let go of a couple of blogs, mostly because they didn’t feel right. I’m not a travel writer, I just love to travel. I only write erotica because it’s easy to publish. My heart wasn’t in those stories because this is the story I’m supposed to be writing now. Finally- it’s been getting in the way of my other projects for so long.

It’s as if we have to get our story out first, our real story, before we can write the made-up stories or the parts of our real stories that turn into fiction. It’s like a small insistent voice at the back of my mind that I was never quite ready to tackle. “Here I am,” it whispers. “Time to tell, time to tell.” Is it like that for you, other writers? Do you have to get things out before other things can start? I’m interested to hear from you.

I am finally ready.

OK OK here goes- the Liebster Blog Award


ImageOne of my blogging friends ( I have blogger friends?? What happened to my quiet little writing blog?) has nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award, which requires me to do some work. So, it has taken me a bit to get around to it.

Blogging has been terrific for my motivation, and it has surprisingly resulted in a number of connections that have the potential to be lasting. Pretty cool- sending words out to the universe and seeing who bites. Plus, I’ve reconnected with a few people from my past who have been following along on this little Road.

The Liebster Award is for bloggers who have 200 followers or less. Someone nominates you and asks some questions, for me it was whiskeytangofoxtrot4. 

She has a beautiful blog full of dreamy images of horses and children, still images full of light and mist. Check her out! OK, she asked me the following questions, which I will answer:

1-If you could for one day be the opposite sex, what would you do? I probably shouldn’t put it on my family-friendlyish blog…my mom reads it

2-What is your favourite book of all time? I have so many books that I see as friends…I can’t choose. But I love anything by Steinbeck or John Irving

3-What is the one thing you least love about yourself and the one thing you most love about yourself? I least love my lack of patience. I totally love my hot ass.

4-IF you won ALOT of money, how would you use it? You probably wouldn’t see me for a few years, wait, who am I kidding- you don’t see me anyway. I’d travel, travel, travel.

5-Sadly, b/c we all die….cremated, buried or burned? Your choice is….? Burn me baby. I think it was an Amy Tan book that I stole this idea from- I want 4 friends to take part of my ashes and take me 4 places I’ve never been. Any money from the insurance should go to the trips they’ll take me on…also, I kinda want a wake.


Then I ask my nominees the following questions:


1- What’s a childhood dream that you let go? Would you think about reviving it now?

2-If you could move to any country/place right now, where would it be? What’s holding you back?

3-Do you believe in true love, and why or why not?

4- What is success to you?

5- A habit you would like to change?

The way it works you ask? Some one nominates you and up to 10 others. There are a set of questions to answer, 5 to 10 random facts about yourself and then in turn ask your nominees. After that you nominate up 11 more Lieblings. I’m just going to nominate a couple here – those folks I find myself coming back to check out, though I’m not so much a blog reader. I have so little time! I have no idea how to see how many followers a blog has…so…I won’t worry about the followers.

Pivoine68 – Sexual romps, poetry, and photos…you never know what our little expat Dawn will come up with.

TedBook – A picture a day is worth tons of words!

ClotildaJamCracker– The wacky stories of a crazy lady


Let me say that Bisbee is indeed full of ghosts, drunken nights, ravaged earth and scarlet water. And lots of tourists. I have some beautiful road-photos to share with you soon. I had a wonderful birthday week, thanks to my love. He did a good job this year.

P.S. My love kindly came up with a new name for a blog for me, after brushing away the remnants of a wonderful birthday meal. Coming soon “Crumbs on Her Face.”

~ A

Happy Birthday, fellow Scorpios

I’ve made it 31 years so far, today. It’s odd how looking back I can remember standing there looking at my 8-year-old feet, my hands, peering out from 8-year-old eyes without the beginning of crow’s feet spreading softly, so many years later. I can look forward, too, to see my mother’s hands becoming mine in 20 more years. I feel as incredulous now as I know I will then, wondering what happened to all that time. Wondering how on earth all of this could possibly end.

I keep running into the writerly road block, the one that says I was supposed to be successful so much earlier. The one that makes you feel like a failure, no matter how many times you publish something or someone tells you you have talent. Some people call it drive, but we all know it’s just desperation. How can you be successful when you sit on your ass and do nothing, lamenting the wasted time that you are wasting that very second? The best solution to all of this, I’ve found, is just to have a sense of humor. We’re all in the same boat, people. Pick up an oar once in a while.

Love, to all of you.

We are all looking for ou…

We are all looking for our fathers in some way, hunting the man in black across the empty plains. Whether we seek God, or answers, we think if we could just find him he might tell us that everything will be OK.

We are all looking for our fathers in some way, hunting the man in black across the empty plains. Whether we seek God, or answers, we think if we could just find him he might tell us that everything will be OK.

Goodbye, Pup

I know this isn’t good writing. This is stream of consciousness, my thoughts this morning as I say goodbye to my much-loved dog. I usually despise posting such personal things. Today this is the only way I can send him this letter.

The day I picked you up, I couldn’t help but be disappointed. You seemed lethargic, unhappy. You were overweight, and your hair was dull. The Petfinder ad had said “young male.” You were not that young. Your eyes stared into space, looking for something, or more likely you had stopped looking for anyone. The woman who had you hurried you over to me, handed me your twine leash, hurried away. You went with me without complaint, with no backward glance.

“He smiles,” she said. “Don’t be frightened when you see it.”

You didn’t smile, for the first day. You spent the long ride to Mom’s with your head on Sophie’s lap, content to just lie there. She scratched your head the whole way.

When we got to mom’s, she worried for her other dogs when she saw this hulking deer-colored dog with his head down and his Mohawk-like ridge of hair. It didn’t take long to win her over, as you were always the consummate gentleman. You brought your ears down, and you wagged your nub. You rubbed your face on the carpet in the house and you started to relax. We went hiking, the day after I got you, and you were joyous. You ran up and down the steepest hills you could find in the mountains above Mogollon. You wore yourself ragged, being free. I wondered if you would run off, get lost. You made sure to keep me in view. You weren’t a dummy, ever. The next morning you were so stiff from all that exercise I had to help you out of your bed. Then you smiled at me, all crooked. Your lips curled back and you showed me all your teeth in a lopsided Elvis grin. You wagged and wagged that damn nub. There was no way I could have been frightened of that smile. You were mine, now, so that was that. I would take you and love you no matter how you turned out. That’s what I do with things that are mine. I felt a fierce protectiveness for you already.  For a while I heard whispers in the park, “Man that’s a fat Doberman.” Not for long, I thought, and we went out walking in the Tucson heat every day. No more “free feeding” in a bowl in a field in northern New Mexico. No more lack of attention from an owner with too many foster dogs. You slept there, by my bed, from then on.

I got you home, and you loved the kitty right away. You were excited to meet all these girls, in this big old house. You liked the yard, but you wouldn’t stay out there if I wasn’t out there with you. You wanted to be with me, all the time. I wanted to be with you, too. I wish I could have quit my job and spent all of my time with you. I wish I could have taken you everywhere with me, because I know nothing would have made you happier.  

With our daily walks and a good diet, you started to shine. Your hair grew back over the patchy bald spots when you started getting fish oil every day. You muscled up, grew sleek. You looked so beautiful people would stop in the street and ask what kind of dog you were, or to tell me what a good-looking boy you were. We went hiking in the mountains often, and you would run far ahead on the trail scaring people you burst upon. What is this monstrous beast crashing through the underbrush? Sometimes they would shriek. You would come tearing back to me, worried about that shrieking person. You would wait for me, and then would tear off again.

Once on the trail along the arroyo, we were running and you didn’t have your leash on. This guy ran up beside us and you didn’t notice that he wasn’t me. He ran much faster, and you followed him loping along. I was sure you were gone, and too embarrassed to call out for you. I was out of breath, and slowed, then stopped. I listened for you, I whistled and called. Nothing. I didn’t know you well enough at that point, we’d only had a few weeks together. I was afraid someone would take you to the pound. Suddenly, far away, I heard thundering feet. You must have realized he wasn’t me. I imagine the sniff, the freaked out look in your eyes, and the realization hitting you that you had left me behind. You came into view far up the trail, and you were running back to me as fast as you had ever run. Slobber was flying, your eyes were wild, and you skidded into me with the most profound look of relief. I was happy too, you silly dog.

“Don’t ever run away from me again,” I told you. And you never did. The whole way back to my car, you sniffed my leg every few steps to make sure it was me. My sock was drenched with drool by the time we reached the car. You did that regularly, for the rest of your life. You never forgot that feeling of being lost from me.

Everyone you met loved you. You were so good. You were patient with kids, you sniffed everyone’s crotch equally to see what they were all about. I never saw you dislike a person. Sometimes you were mean to dogs, but mostly they deserved it. I never had to tell you something more than a few times, and you learned it because you lived to make me happy. You knew when to cross the road, you knew how to wait, and stay, and lay down. You already knew how to shake. You let me know that by offering me your paw. Nothing made you more excited or dance harder than when I said the WORD. W-A-L-K. I had to spell it, because you learned it right away. I loved your happy puppy dance. I’ve never seen any dog bow down and hop in quite the same way. You attached yourself to my leg in true Velcro-dog fashion. Your eyes followed me anywhere I moved. If I was sad, you knew it, and you came close to comfort me. You were polite, and didn’t lick, unless I really needed a kiss. If I went to the bathroom, you waited outside the door for me. You would come in if I didn’t close the door.

Watching you hurt has left a gaping wound in my heart. Saying goodbye, choosing your time, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I want to vomit, I want to scream, I want to turn back the clock and spend every moment of your life with you. I feel cheated that I only knew you for…was it almost 7 years? August 2005, my email says. The vet guessed you were about 5 years old then. All I know is how lucky I was to know you. I know if I have a soul, that means you do too. I would never believe we are that different, that I have something you did not. Only the ability to talk to people. You talked to me with your eyes, all the time. Your expressive golden-brown eyes with their funny little eyebrows.

You showed me that your back hurt, you pointed it out to me. You woke up howling in the night. It must have been bad enough, back then. Over a year has gone by since you first started doing that, and I didn’t notice. I noticed your leg shaking, you being less stable on your feet. I wish I had asked a vet sooner, but I am afraid it might not have mattered.

We took a hike in the Gila yesterday, to help us say goodbye. I knew it would hurt you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to stop and rest, even though you stumbled and your muscles shook. This was where you were happiest. After the walk, at home, I saw your eyes go perfectly round when you saw the cheeseburger I was about to give you. You vacuumed the whole thing up piece by piece. Last night, because of the walk, the pain was really bad. You woke me with your panting, but you didn’t say a word. I held you in my arms and finally felt acceptance for what I had to do. I haven’t realized you are gone yet, it hasn’t sunk in for me though I watched you take your last breath and I held you and petted you as you passed over, to wherever it is we go. That was the one place I couldn’t be with you. I am glad I could be there as you went. You have blessed me with your gentle presence and by sharing your life with me. I will hold you always, close to my heart. I hope we meet again, out there. No matter what you look like I think I will know you. That soul would be hard to miss. There’s no such thing as “just a dog.” You were THE dog, you were my love, and I am not ashamed of that.