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The Chef

He came to the store where I worked and before he spoke, I recognized him as the person I had been talking to on the internet.  He was very tall and quiet black gentleman with big doe eyes and he wanted me badly.

His wife was distant.  She was an alcoholic and that was the big elephant in the room that no one talked about in his house.  At the time I didn’t know what that meant.  Now I do and I sympathize with him.  We met again at a coffee shop in the eclectic part of town where I lived.  I liked him.  Smart, responsible and sexy.   He was a chef at a downtown hotel and he had started that profession by just walking in to a place that had a “dishwasher wanted” sign in the window.  From there, he worked his way up to head chef.

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I’m Quitting Writing to Become a Stripper

I’m Quitting Writing to Become a Stripper

Yeah, right. However, not long ago a male acquaintance suggested I do just that. This really blows my mind because he was the second person to do this in the last year. I am and have always been fairly conservative, kept to myself and not any type of exhibitionist so what is it that makes them say such things?

Well the first time this was suggested to me, I was still doing okay writing but not in the eyes of my friend’s boyfriend who said it. “You should become a stripper. You have the body for it.” I got mad at him. He didn’t understand why. He thought it was a compliment. I guess as a concerned friend, he thought it could really help pay my bills…

The second time it was said to me by a person who’s formal education exceeds my own. He is obviously a moron, though. Money nor degrees can do anything about that…  ” You should become a stripper and write about it.”

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Good Luck

I had a dream the other night that I was at the Superbowl. One of the teams put me in on the line to foil the other team’s chance at winning. By some stroke of luck, I threw a half decent spiral that ended the game in a victory for my team (the team they were trying to fix for a loss).

After my sizable victory, which certainly was huge, considering I am neither a pro football player nor have I ever watched a football game in my entire life, I went to Paris, another location I had never been to. Once in Paris, I ran into my cousin who died a month ago from cancer at the age of 28. My cousin never liked me. In fact, her and her two older sisters did their best to alienate me and leave me out whenever my family visited their’s.

Upon running into my cousin, I told her about how I had just won the Superbowl. The truth is, I was pretty much telling anyone I ran into about it; I had few family left and even fewer that cared. She seemed interested in talking to me despite our history of the contrary, but inevitably reverted to her usual stance from childhood and wanted nothing to do with me. I obliged her wishes, but before parting, I noticed something strange. She had three eyes. Two like you and I, and a third that was identical to her others. This third eye was right in the middle of her forehead, where the metaphysical third eye appears. The eye was blue like her others and twinkled with life; as odd as this was it was extremely realistic.

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My New Dress

My Spring frock came from Ross Dress For Less. I love that place. It is a zoo but I know it so well now that I can get in and get out quickly. I could spend lots of money there that I do not have. But I got this dress for less than twenty bucks and it made me happy.  I had it tied around my waist and that tie came undone at the gas station.  I didn’t realize it was hanging half off of me as I went into the station to pay my bill.  This dress is trouble.  I wore it to a community dinner at my Mom’s and I felt good in it and got a compliment from her which is rare.  But what I really wanted to do was share my new dress with a lover.  I know I would enjoy vamping around the living room showing it off to a fun fellow but there is no one like that in my life right now and that makes me sad.

So I vamped in front of my hallway mirror and got some great shots.  Playing around with my camera is one of the things I love to do.  I did not use my self timer this time but I have figured out how to twist around so that the camera is not in the scene with me while I pose in the mirror.  I must have taken about twenty photos and I had fun.

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Heaven

Last weekend, I called a phone psychic. Yes, go ahead mock me, I know, what a waste of money, yes yes… Anyways, you are right- what a waste of money indeed! Especially since I am psychic and can read my own fortune (with the help of the local Chinese restaurant’s cookies, of course). Anyways, I asked her about my dog, would he be okay? “Hayley your dog is very sick and in a lot of pain. You need to do the right thing and put him to sleep.” Silently, I balked at this comment, as QT Pie has been to two different vets at least once a week for the last several months. He was not in pain, both vets assured me. And to put him down? Was she crazy? Send my dog to an executioner? He would be so scared, to go to the vet again and get a needle, or to have some stranger come to my home and give him a needle. I was not going to pay someone to murder my baby.

QT Pie has not been sleeping well and Saturday morning after a night of him waking me up several times, I woke to him gazing at me lovingly. It was like the first time we met. My parents took me to a farm where there were three white puppies playing in a playpen. I was hell bent on buying a girl puppy so I could put bows in her hair. The breeder asked me to help carry one of the puppies into the house. She handed me the puppy and I cradled it in my arms like a baby.  The the puppy looked up at me with this loving gaze and my heart sunk. It was the first time I ever felt this- this love at first sight, this feeling that if I don’t choose this spirit, and instead choose to walk away and choose someone else, it will be something  I regret for the rest of my life. Immediately I knew that this was the puppy I wanted. I sighed and hoped it was a girl, then looked down and saw that it had a penis. Damn it.
Once inside the house I debated. Would I get a girl or the boy. The two girls were yippy and annoying. They tumbled around attacking each other and the little boy who sat silently not really interacting much with them. It was a tough decision, but I decided to go with the boy (and to put bows in his hair when no one was looking). So Saturday morning I awake to him giving me this same look that he did when we met. I said to him that he was such a good boy and I petted his head and ears. I gave him a kiss and wrapped him in blankets. Then I moved him to another room in a dog bed so I could get some sleep but about 20 minutes later I checked on him and he was shaking. I picked him up and tried to calm him down but it was as if he was looking through me. Like I wasn’t there. I begged him to stop shaking, but it seemed that he was having a seizure and about 15 minutes later he died in my arms. I could not believe it.

Grief stricken, I did not want to bury him and began to understand why, as strange as it is, people get their dead pets stuffed. I held his lifeless body in my lap for a while. As soon as he died, it was as if he lost weight and became lighter, like a spirit really did leave his body. He was no longer QT Pie, but as listless as a teddy bear. His face did not look the same as it kind of twisted and contorted into something strange when his spirit exited in his final moments. When my father helped me bury him later that morning, I was truly one of those people who throw themselves on the casket and do not want the lid closed.

When I checked my email later that afternoon, I had an email telling me I had a free 5 minutes from that psychic. So I called her, why the hell not. I told her my dog died and she started to tell me about dog heaven. Ummm… I know I have a youthful sounding voice but I assure you, I really am 26 years old, not 11. Then she told me that dogs spirits go into something called an energy pool. This is total bullshit in my opinion. Well at least it was a free five minutes… My mother tried to console me and tell me that he was in heaven with my grandmother. This only pissed me off more, “Fuck heaven,” I responded. Why did heaven need my dog?

I started to wonder where he went. Seriously how can someone be here one minute and then completely gone the next? How could that be? I stopped seeing a point to life. If the point of life was to help other people and perform good deeds as some sort of fulfillment of a test I didn’t see the point was regardless of how well you scored- because in the end you just die, so isn’t it all in vain anyways? And for a while I lived life trying to have as much fun as possible, thinking that maybe the point of life was enjoying it- but soon it became clear that this theory of mine was also incorrect- as the things I wanted I did not get, and that of course, not getting what I wanted was no fun at all.

I think I will die young. Not because I am suicidal (I’m not) but because I just have that feeling. Also I worry about my gynecological health. When I got the ASCUS result on my test last year I was terrified. I know that it is usually a body part or something that caused you great mental pain in life that can kill you. I know that because I was raped there is a good chance something in that region will eventually kill me. There is too much focus down there and it is not a good kind of focus. This region of my body has been violated and I have never fully come to terms with that. It is something I have to deal with because it is part of my body a part that will always be with me, but it is focus like this that turns into cancer- the pain it has caused me can turn into a physical illness one day if I don’t get over it. Unfortunately, I cannot get over it and it will always affect who I am. How can I get over that? I imagine that if I ever get married I will die fairly young and that my husband will be sad because I was a nice person. Regardless I see an early grave in my distant future. My friends hate when I talk like this. At the same time I do not want to get old and sickly, so dying young and beautiful almost sounds like a pleasant experience. I only hope that I can finish everything I”ve set out to do before it happens and that I can write all my books, make some films, and meet and marry someone who will actually care about me.

I do think we truly stick around until our purpose in life has been accomplished. I guess my little dog QT Pie did a good job of accomplishing his. Though I don’t think I will ever truly believe that last sentence as I am greedy and want my friend back… Like I said before, fuck heaven.

(Oh and I apologize in advance for my blasphemy- I do not believe in Heaven or Hell- I believe that your karma is balanced in this life one way or the other and that Heaven and Hell are just excuses to justify actions -or non-actions- )

QT Pie Summer 2011

 

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Men in Vehicles

 

"Vehicles" Suzanne Smith 2012

Johnny Stewart in the back of his friend’s car in the early sixties is a vivid one because it was my first kiss.  Our teeth clicked.  We snuggled into the green plush seat back in that old car and sped along the back roads on the Island of Guam.  Johnny was an airman on the base where my Dad worked and he was a lifeguard at the pool on base.  I was an avid swimmer.  I am so glad he was my first kiss.  That was my first memory of men in vehicles.

Then there was a ride back from the casino to my mother’s house with a fellow in the back of another fellow’s truck.  The three of us had so much fun.  This particular evening  we were rocking and rolling around in the back of that truck and I’m thinking I am way too old to be doing this.   I didn’t want to screech to a halt in front of my mom’s house so I banged on the truck window to let me out a block away.  Disheveled, I said good night.  Mom never knew.   She didn’t know I did it another time with those two guys in her guest room where I was staying.  We were all three very quick and sly.  I could see her down the street talking to a friend.  I miss those crazy guys.  One worked for Amtrak and the other is an Artist.  It sounds like we were teens but we were all in our fifties.

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Promiscuity

There are some who might say that I have had way too many sexual partners in my life.  I have been tested and do not have any STD’s yet I know I have taken chances.  I think it has been a rather normal progression of people in my life and I like to think I have played it safe.  I look back at the journals I wrote during those times and I wonder what I was thinking.  I know I was imagining that this was the way to love.  My journey and documenting the stops continue to this day and I feel close to some personal truths.  My path is not for everyone but I don’t regret my life.

I had been divorced after twenty five years because the sex was terrible.  That really was the bottom line in addition to religious, personality and astrological differences.  So when I was free I went looking.  I actually found an affair while I was still married.  The Internet swept me into a world that still intrigues me.  Bruce was my first fellow and he gave me the kisses I was missing. My ex is still a fine friend but I needed more.  I found it and never looked back.

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This is Not a Women’s Movement – This is a People’s Movement

This is Not a Woman’s Movement – This is a People’s Movement

On Monday, I wrote an article calling for a new feminist movement;a movement in which men and women work together to achieve equality and to squelch hate-speech. From the beginning, I realized this issue wasn’t limited to misogyny but that an issue of inequality existed across the board with racism, prejudice and homophobia. I realized that we do not need a new women’s movement but a people’s movement.

So let’s get this ball rolling. Let’s make sure there is equal pay and marriage rights for all and an end to this ridiculous War on Women. Let’s create further awareness of these issues. Let’s stop politicians and pundits from trying to divide us during a time when we need to stand together.

The country is suffering, people are suffering, even the children are suffering. The children are learning to hate rather than to accept. Bullying in American schools is an epidemic that will only stop when children see that men and women; gay and straight; White, Latino, Black and Asian are all equally valuable.

Furthermore, to dichotimize people by bringing God into the equation is blasphemous. We must scrutinize and be suspicious of anyone wielding “God” as a tool to further perpetuate their agenda of hate.

So apparently- if you want to help me do this, in order for the White House to take notice of this plea- we have to get 25,000 people to sign this petition by April 8th!!! And yes, I am talking about this April 8th as in one month from now! So please spread the word, share the link and sign this petition!

It will be fun to see where this goes- the sky is the limit and there is nowhere to go from this point but up!

Share this link:

http://wh.gov/I5c

 Tweet this link:

http://wh.gov/I5c

Sign the petition!!!

http://wh.gov/I5c

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New Contributing Writer: Suzanne Smith!

Tomorrow a new writer, Suzanne Smith, will be making her debut at Hayley’s Comments. You will love her work. Like her, it is sensual and seductive. Her first post “I’m Drinking Your Vodka Tonight” will pull you into her world; a world that has known great love as much as it has known great heartbreak.

Suzanne lives in San Diego, California. She lived in Alaska for 25 years with her then husband. They divorced in the 90’s. Since then she has loved and loved and lost. This post is about Peter, Suzanne’s love, who died last year in a tragic accident. Please be sure to check out, “I’m Drinking Your Vodka Tonight.”

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Introducing Our Newest Contributing Writer: LHeure Bleue

Tomorrow our newest contributing writer, LHeure Bleue, will be publishing her first post here at Hayley’s Comments entitled, “Indigo Nights With Diamonds.” This is a breathtaking masterpiece and a must read so make sure you stop by the blog tomorrow.

LHeure Bleue named after the famous “Blue Hour,” a term coined in Post Impressionist France “refers to the period of twilight each morning and evening where there is neither full daylight nor complete darkness.” During this time in France the cultural climate changed rapidly, the avant-garde was prominent, and the original “Bohemia” was born.

LHeure was born in Cairo, Egypt, and immigrated to the US when she was 18 months old. She grew up in the Bay Area and inherited her father’s adventurous spirit. She began moving at an early age.  Having lived in Southern California, Florida, Hawaii, Idaho, Tennessee, and in Southern Minnesota for a decade as a farm wife, LHeure has obviously experienced a variety of cultures and climates. More facets of LHeure to be revealed in future posts!

 

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