April 29, 2001

And another week zips by.  Time seems to be much faster paced and i wish i could slow it down.  i miss the lazy days of the past year, when life was calmer and more relaxed.  Now it feels like a constant schedule is happening and sometimes that's okay, but mostly it feels like it's all about 'having' to do things.  i guess i'm pining for the spontaneity of before.

     The wee story i wrote, attempting to get myself back into writing mode, was rejected this week.  That was very disappointing, but i'm assuming it also means that i have to work harder.  i know i can do it - i think i have to pay more attention to making the time available to do it well.  Anyway, re the story: the most i can do now is post it here.  And i never did ask Himself about the wax play, so this will be a reminder.

The Happy Gardener

“I’m helping you grow, like you wanted.” 

He scattered earth and tiny seeds over her bound body.  “We need water.  Shall I pee on you darling?”  He heard her muffled protest.  “Ah.  I suppose not then.  Here’s a better idea.”  He blew softly over her clit, and licked it wet. 

“Mary, Mary quite contrary … how your garden does grow,” he chuckled. 

He paused, thinking aloud. “We’ve done earth, air, water … but fire? Wait! We need to pave a garden path …” 

He held a dripping candle over her belly and hummed ‘follow the yellow brick road … ‘ 

Óshadoe 2001

      So that's it.  They said it had no plot (something really hard to do with a one hundred word limit) but i think it was a fun exercise anyway.   

     And now my mind has simply dried up.  i get all these thoughts during the week that i want to write about and then when i have a chance ... nothing.  It's all very frustrating.

     Time for a shower.