She laid next to him, close and safe against his back, her arm across his chest in that comfortable way, that intimate way that makes him think of love and sex and peace and sleep. Before her, he didn’t truly know the feeling that’s slowly washing over him, contentment, something others come by so easily, so honestly. He could find contentment in other ways. Contentment by way of opiates gently passing through a needle, rushing into so many scarred veins, or behind a bar, for six bucks a glass of his favorite clear liquid, or between sweat soaked sheets, lost in some woman who isn’t her, but these things are just lies dressed up as contentment, just poor actors in a miserable off-broadway play. He’s done these things before, knows now that it’s all just a bunch of nothing that leads nowhere. He hadn’t met true contentment until he met her, until he looked into her eyes, eyes the color of sunlit autumn leaves. He saw in her eyes his present, his always. He knew he didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, ever. He feels that way right now, as she pulls him toward her, her chin gently pressing against his neck, two puzzle pieces locking into place. With a shudder of anticipation, he knows that they’ll fall asleep and in the morning they’ll take off each other’s clothes, he’ll fade into her, get lost in her body, her eyes. He feels like he knows his tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and it’s all so beautiful.
He doesn’t know that things have changed, that the world isn’t the same as it was just yesterday. He doesn’t see that this woman he loves more than the world has turned pale, doesn’t feel her heat against his back like he should, nor the rise and fall of her plain old terry cloth robe. He loves her so much in that robe, it’s nothing that’s supposed to be seductive, just cozy. She’s the sort of beautiful that just is, the sort of beautiful that makes terry cloth look as alluring as satin. She pulls him closer, wraps her leg around his waist. He doesn’t know that just as she snuggled against his back, a mutinous clot of blood lazily floated its way toward her heart. She pulls him closer, tightens her embrace. He smiles, thinks he knows what’s next.
Her lips brush his neck, gentle caressing growing rough with desire, with need. She won’t wait for morning. She’s going to take him tonight, right now. She’s never wanted him so badly, her entire body writhing, her loving embrace pinning him against their bed, a butterfly pinned to a cork board. She’s going to take him inside her, slowly, deeply, violently. She’s going to pull him into her more deeply than he’s ever experienced, bringing him past the point of choice. He feels teeth against his neck where once were lips and kisses. Teeth press through flesh, through muscle, scraping against bone. She’s bringing him to climax, wants him to fill her with liquid-fire, with life. She’s on her knees, straddling him, back arched, swallowing what she took of him, blood running down her face, over her bluing lips, into her cold mouth. She’s the picture of demented ecstasy, arterial blood spraying against her body. Still warm blood dripping from the ceiling, sticky cooling blood pasting curly strands of chestnut hair against her face.
Whatever pain that was screaming at him, telling him he was alive, is now but a whisper. He feels hot wetness blossoming around his head, running down his chest, yet he’s growing very cold, very sleepy. She’s laying next to him as she was, lapping up blood pooled behind his ear. He doesn’t know that similar scenes are spreading throughout the city, he doesn’t even know for certain what happened to him. He does know that all he’s ever really wanted, since their first date, a blind-date, seemingly a forever ago, was to fall asleep next to her until he quit breathing. He quit breathing not long after her unexpected kiss, all that’s left is to sleep.
He always thought his final breath, his final sleep, would separate them, but not so. The sleep he’s expecting won’t be quite final. Soon he’ll wake, and walk the night with her, his always. He’ll see the night sky at her side, he’ll learn a sort of contentment completely new to this new world.2 comments
So, TLC is possibly the most intellectually bankrupt network on tv. They have not one but TWO shows about dudes with multiple wives. There’s 19 Kids and Counting, a show about the Dugger family, Michelle & Jim-Bob, raising 19 kids. Aside from being boring to watch, the Duggers regularly use their “fame” to spearhead anti-gay and lesbian campaigns, including a state-wide robo-call against marriage equality in Arkansas. They have a late-night talk show, All About Sex, during which the hostesses seem to go on and on about how they mostly try to avoid sex with their spouses/lovers. Well, except Margaret Cho, she’s down for anything. All these shows have pseudo-intellectual catch phrases, “We just love each other,” “Love should be multiplied, not divided,” “…somehow, we just make things work,” “Dirty, filthy, fucking.” Okay, maybe that last one isn’t so intellectual, pseudo or otherwise, but the others are just things stupid people say to sound smart or profound, or to make their lives sound provocative. These are all pretty spectacular, in an awful sort of way. Dirty, filthy, fucking just might go on my epitaph. However, we might have a new top of the heap from one of TLC’s new reality train-wreck, My Big Fat Beautiful Life, it’s a show about this lady who’s overweight because of a medical condition. but loving life just the same. Now, anybody who puts their life on tv, or on a blog… is open to criticism, medical condition or no. Myself included. THAT SAID… This lady’s, sort of, life motto, just strikes me as totally vacuous, “I only have this one life to live, and it damn sure better count.”
I only have this one life to live, and it damn sure better count, it’s so… motivational speaker-esque. It’s just a bunch of words that add up to nothing. Yes, we only get one shot at life, so far as we know, that’s true enough. It’s the second half of her motivational gold that bothers me. See, every life counts, for good or ill, every life counts, no damn sure betters about it. We leave footprints in the world, it happens without even trying. Whether you’re Steve Jobs, or someone’s crazy cat-lady aunt, you’re remembered, you affect the people around you. Our worry should be that at the end of our everything, we left the world a little brighter than when we entered it, not whether or not we made life “count.”6 comments
So, it’s 2015, I’m thirty-four years, eleven days older. Yay. Am I supposed to feel wiser? If I am, I don’t. Mostly, I just feel… down… melancholy. 2015 has to be something good, not that it could just magically be something good. I have to endeavor to make it something good. I know I can… I can. I still have some fight in me, and when I don’t feel like fighting, that’s obviously when I have to fight harder.
I kind of just let 2014 happen to me, I can’t let 2015 go the same way.6 comments
So, we are now running WordPress 4.1, and like usual, this means pretty much nothing for readers, but for me… WordPress 4.1 has some nice interface changes on my end that make for a better writing and posting experience. I may post more! Who knows? My moods are capricious and dark, of late. We shall see.2 comments
So, I haven’t written in awhile, a long while. I won’t say that I needed the break, but I took it just the same. I just haven’t felt like writing, or maybe, I haven’t felt like anything in my head is worth writing. I’ve been really down, way down… and nervous. I haven’t felt this kind of nervous in a really long time. I have so much worry and lonely in my head, I just, I don’t know. I just want to be with the one person who makes everything okay, she pushes away all the dark, but I’m here and she’s not, and I’m scared. Everything’s so fucked. I made her go because I thought I was in the way, I felt like she would be better without me. I said it, I made her go, but it’s not what I wanted, I don’t think it’s fucking true at all. We fit, I know we fit because when we’re alone, when it’s just us, it’s easy. We’re better together, we feel like we can breathe… and I fucked everything.4 comments
I lost a subscriber… Too much technology? Too much politics? Just not enough good writing? I don’t know. There should be some sort of exit survey.
I like turtles!8 comments
So, I went and did my Civic Duty, early voting… We had a lot of important local races, but the race for Governor is by far the most important, and the easiest choice. Governor Rick Scott has done so much damage, all that matters is that he DOESN’T win.
“Vote Charlie Crist for Governor… He sucks less!”
So, I took some time off, but I’m going to get back into the swing…
I’m back in Mac OS X Yosemite, I have it running better than last time, at least. I had to go back, it’s the only way to push forward. I have to be in the OS, so that I can accurately report the issues to Apple and ControlBionics, the issues that need fixing. I don’t want NeuroSwitch users stuck using last year’s technology simply because they have no choice. If we want to upgrade to the latest OS on the latest Mac hardware on release day, that should be a right, not a privilege. If I have to be the one in the trenches, being fucked over by bugs so that other people with disabilities aren’t relegated to technology’s back of the bus… Sign me up, I’m down. The back of the bus is unacceptable, especially on the Mac, a platform defined by inclusion. Apple has always supported assistive technology (AT), more now than ever, I don’t worry about their internal support of assistive technology. I worry that third-party AT developers might be getting complacent, could maybe do more to keep up with Apple. I don’t want to see developers playing it safe, pushing users to play it safe, to hold back on OS updates, choosing last year’s stability over the innovation of today, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. That way of thinking is antiquated, developers should be pushing toward giving users the right to release day updates. Maybe half their other apps quit working, a risk EVERYONE willingly faces for the chance to stand on the bleeding edge of computing. However, no matter the update, one’s keyboard doesn’t break, one’s mouse doesn’t break. Assistive technology users should expect no less from our forms of the keyboard/mouse. AT developers need to push the envelope as hard as Apple does, choosing innovation and zealous testing that ensures stable access to the technology of right now, and next year, and forever on. I don’t feel that expecting my switch to work on Day One of a major OS release is too much to ask, especially considering that developers have access to testing the OS months in advance.
Admittedly, I had access, I could have tested. I got complacent. Still, at the end of the day, I’m the end-user, the last link in the testing chain. It shouldn’t be that since my life depends on the technology, and I have some developer access, I Goddamn well better test the shit out of my switch… and Kurt Cobain shouldn’t be dead… and Nirvana should have put out a fourth record that sounded like R.E.M. as if heard through the filter of one’s nightmares. However, none of that is reality. Kurt’s dead, that record never happened, and I don’t get to be complacent, because the situation doesn’t just affect me, it touches every other NeuroSwitch user, and I’m in a position to help. Thinking about it in those terms, I have to help, nothing else really matters.
Wish me luck
Soothe the burn
Wake me up…