LADY GODIVA: The Naked Truth

My grandpa had died recently.  I found out via a Facebook post and I’m proud of myself for demonstrating some grace as I wasn’t too thrilled to have discovered this information second hand through an electronic social media platform.   I was successfully able to control my emotions (ended up having a severe unanticipated reaction to Wellbutrin back in May 2021) and it was refreshing.  I didn’t let that Monkey Mind get the upper hand this time.  #Accomplishments A lot has happened in my personal life— again —dear readers and albeit I really prefer to actually type, I may start to resort to writing/posting in my blog via my thumbs.  Which isn’t ideal at all but wasting pointless hours on Facebook doesn’t really sound appealing anymore either.  Nor being seated in front of my tv, or hell, seated at all period.  But I apologize, my life seemed to completely go haywire even independent of covid.  I fell off, and in all s...

SCROLL DOWN TO TITLE TO SKIP The Disclaimer: I promised myself that this wouldn't become a personal blog, I had one of those on MySpace.com that I was actually particularly proud of until Myspace devolved into the cesspool it is today.   I actually had considered this a "gutter-blog" for awhile, being exceptionally ill for a time with an unknown cause that I was terrified was colon cancer.  It's not colon cancer.  Or cancer.  Yet. So my gutter-blog was for poetry posts.  I was scared I was dying and I just wanted to shoot my spiritual flare into the ether void that composes the interwebs and the multiverse. Then I angrily linked it one day to a Facebook Admin page I had created, outraged that some Facebook Admin pages glorified Creepshots, candid shots of YogaPants, and even more infuriatingly the FB page dedicated to hating on "12 Year Old Sluts", so I had made a page in response called "12 Year Old Rapists" - which basically showed a fe...

Geauga Lake closed in 2007 but I had gone there when I was still quite little, like, in the 80’s little, and had gotten to be the first batch of humans that got to experience their new amusement park feature, called ‘The Wave’. Aptly named, it was basically a humongous pool and every 15 minutes or so an automated, machine generated wave would convalesce its way through the pool.  But there was sure to be one.  The Big One.  That WAVE that would knock you on your ass and if you didn’t want to get caught in that particular wave, you needed to get your ass outta of the pool stat.  I’m vaguely remembering the aura of fear, alarms even.  Terrified over-weight moms in neon tutu swim dresses, with fully made-up faces struggling to climb up out of the pool in time.  Just in the nick of time to get out of that wave’s way.    But there I was. In the shallow end of the pool.  Of ‘The Wave’ and I remember that like the instant was more ...

Dr. Who-me?, eww. You can't see or understand that I'm the Invisible Man with jewelry? You lookin' pretty paltry & pouty I'm feelin' kinda rowdy like a cowboy that don't say, "Howdy." Pennywise, I am the ultimate Ghostwriter: John Ritter, only bigger & more bitter and, yea, you could figure... on a star. All those Once Upon A Time wishes, tend to go a bit too far. Tracy Chapman said you got a fast car. But all men be playars. All womb-men be bitches, and give birth in a rut 'cause of a sting in the gut so what you breed gets called mutt and never gets what they need to sleep and feel alright. So they grow-up like me and ghostwrite. Say they, "Al'right," when they're not all right. Every step a jihad, Every breath a fight. They might let you pray if you're lucky. Even if he does love you, he'll still fuck me. With pay. Tell you it's addiction, tell me it's fiction, but ...