Category Archives: Uncategorized

As it says…this just didn’t
fit in any other category.

Not Your Typical Weekday Post

I was going to try and think of something quirky and wit-filled to serve as my mid-week post. I enjoy wryness, and as I don’t always have a place for this in my fiction, I like to vent it in these little snippets. I hope I’ve at least brought a twitch to the corner of someone’s mouth.

To be honest, it’s kind of hard to think of something new each week that could be written of in a light manner. I don’t particularly follow topical news, so satire is out of the question. Between my work and writing I don’t get out much, and other than what I read or watch on TV I don’t get the chance to experience a whole wide range of novelty all that often.

Which is all a bit relieving, in a way, because last week I discovered something that I could neither ignore, nor make light of. It was really quite surprising, actually – it came of the back of a hit, a like and a follow on both Satis and The Redemption of Erâth. The person who showed me the consideration of reading (and liking!) my work is a fellow WordPress blogger, and I was struck by their tale.

If I’m being honest, I feel a little tentative about sharing this; I wouldn’t want this person to think I’m trying to send hits their way out of a sense of false sympathy. Don’t misunderstand me; I am deeply disturbed by the experiences they relate, and wish them the best of luck in their continued life. Yet I do not know this person, and would not wish to insult them with pretense. Their writing is strong, and the reality behind it bites. I would have it shared for that, I think.

Sometimes, though, there is material that reaches down your throat and claws at your gut. Words that won’t let go. And the material is the second reason I feel compelled to share this as well. I try to avoid most forms of sexuality in my writing – in what interests me and what I am working on, it has no place. My other story – you know, the one – will take this to a tragic end. Were this the subject of just one of this person’s posts, I would leave it as it is.

But it is not, and this is third reason. This writer has taken a great deal of time and effort to create their blog, and its theme is rather unmistakable. My hope is that the author of this blog will understand the reasons for which I want to share their work. I cannot say I enjoyed it, but I am glad to have found their writing, and will look forward to reading more as it comes. Please take a moment to check it out:

My Body the City: The Secret Life of a Manhattan Call Girl

Best of luck to you, Stella.

Satis

Happy Birthday to my Wife

Happy birthday, you.

We’ve been through a lot, you and I. Ten years, four homes, two countries and one son (I’m still not entirely clear on what happened there…) later, and, to my astonishment, you’re still here. Um…how come?

Not that I’m complaining. See, you make life a lot easier for me. To start with, you earn more than I do, so I never really have to worry about feeling superior, financially speaking. You’re also much smarter than I am, so I don’t have to worry about feeling superior there, either. Personally, I also think you’re a lot better looking than me too, though I am rather dashing.

You also cook. And that’s nice, because I can’t. Yes, I make the pancakes on the weekend and the odd stir-fry with way too much soy sauce, but you know what your fudge does to me…

And you clean. Which is also nice, because I don’t.

In short, you make things happen. You’re an incessant doer, and while I know it stresses you out – me too – I want you to know that I notice. There are a hundred little things you do that, whether I say it or not, I notice. And there are a million other little things you do that, of course, I don’t. And you know what? You don’t really berate me all that much for it. Not really…

Oh, and your ability to make me feel wrong about everything is a blessing, because I’m right way too much of the time.

So what does all this mean? Perhaps on my birthday, you can tell me what I mean to you, but right now, at the risk of making this all about myself (I know you’ll forgive me – I never do that), I want you to know what you mean to me. This isn’t something I say enough.

The simplest way I can put it is this: you saved me. Think of it as tough love, but I would not be who I am today without you. I probably wouldn’t even be, today. How did you do that?

By being an incessant nag, and not ever accepting it when I didn’t want to go to therapy, or take the pills, or admit to my anger problems. By repeating yourself until you’re blue in the face, until finally something you said makes it into my thick skull. By making it impossible for me to harm myself, because you wouldn’t ignore it. By raging at me when I spent an entire day moping at home and not getting anything done. By raging at me whenever I don’t get something done, period. By making me realize that being numb and depressed just isn’t the way to live with other people.

In a nutshell, you’ve stood by me long after any other sane person would have walked away in disgust. You never gave up on me.

And you gave me a son (I suppose I gave you one as well – a kind of mutual birthday present). It wasn’t what I expected, but that’s okay, because I’ve come to quite like the little guy. Every time I’ve thought it was all pointless, that I couldn’t carry on, that life wasn’t worth living, I’ve seen his beautiful face, and realized that there was something I simply couldn’t leave behind; something I couldn’t live without.

You have given me something most people don’t get in a lifetime, and you’ve given it to me twice: unconditional love. I have it from our son, and I have it from you. You might disagree (I hope not), but I don’t have any other explanation for why you’re still here after ten years, four homes, two countries and a son. I haven’t exactly made it worth your while.

So I’m going to give you the best day I can tomorrow. You’re in control, even if we don’t go to see the movie at the only theater in town that’s showing it that I already bought the tickets for. Because that doesn’t matter, if it makes you happy, and helps you to forget your stress for just one day. And one day is probably all it’ll be, because I’m sure I’ll be pissing you off again right away.

So happy birthday, sweetie. I love you more than you know, and I can’t wait to get really, really old, and know that you’ll be there with me.

Yours forever,

 

Your husband