adoptedwriter | Reading

I would have voted for Cuomo.

Cuomo is an old-school Democrat and a loathsome human being by all accounts, but Cuomo is also an able administrator—and a city the size of NYC needs able administration. Weren't DiBlasio's two terms in office enough?

But hey! Maybe I would have been wrong.

Cuomo did kill a lot of old people who would have voted for him because they remember his father.

Plus, Zohran Mamdani is incredibly appealing, and I'd like to ride city buses for free-eee-eeee! Galvanizing 50,000 volunteer canvassers—Cuomo had to pay his—is no mean feat. Mamdani is like a male AOC or a younger, mega-photogenic Bernie Sanders. Mississippi Marsala is a lovely little movie. And I think it may be true that Mamdani is Trump's worst nightmare.

So, yeah: Zohran Mamdani.

The oil change yesterday went on forever, because I asked them to check the brakes and the suspension. The Prius is 14 years old & runs like a dream, but the roads in Ulster County are like one long Tourney of Potholes. If I don't rejuvenate my car's suspension system every year, one day it's gonna go over a bump and the wheels are gonna fly off.

Plus my mechanic stripped a gasket as he was finishing up, so all the new oil he'd just put into the Prius spilled all over the garage floor.

Even though I knew exactly what was happening—gasket! not a biggie—I could feel myself edging into a massive panic attack. I wanted to start sobbing. Like so many women of my age, I have Fear of the Big Box—basically because I wasn't taught about tools & engines & machinery growing up. Things with engines operate through a kind of magic that I am ignorant about! I was at the mercy of these alien priests in their grease-stained denim jumpsuits! All I could do was tremble in awe and fear—

Thankfully, I managed to talk myself out of the panic attack—because really, who wants to see an elderly lady get hysterics?

The verdict on the car: Back wheels need new shocks; car needs four new tires.

Cost will be about a grand.

Of course, I'd far rather spend $1,000 on hazelnut truffles and subscriptions to generative AI video services, but I must have a safe vehicle—my own driving abilities are wildcard factor enough on the roads.
###

My mechanic was horribly apologetic about the gasket when he brought the car out to me. He was an elderly gentleman with a very thick accent. I imagined him as a refugee from one of those countries in Africa beseiged by a gruesome civil war, Sierra Leone or Uganda or someplace.

"You know, stuff happens," I assured him. "You did a great job. Thank you so much!"

And I wrote him a five-star review, singling him out by the name embroidered over the breast pocket of his grease-stained denim jumpsuit.

Because I didn't want him to get fired over a gasket.

clauderainsrm posting in

therealljidol

One of you has been poisoned.

While you were sleeping, while you were reading entries and living your "best life", there was something stirring in the depths of Idol Manor.

Something dangerous.

Everything is not what you see on the surface, for there are Killers in this castle.

Cold blooded killers whose weapon of choice is a slow acting poison!!

if they choose you as their victim, first you will start losing byes (For the gamers out there, think of them as "extra hearts" or even "health points") once those are gone, the next round you will be dead and have your remains carried out of the competition.

There is hope though. Whoever "wins" each week (has the most votes) will be given an antidote. They can take it themselves or give it to someone else. If they guess correctly, then that person is cured. If they don't, then the antidote has no effect.

Following the completion of each "Week", the contestants remaining in the competition will have the chance to vote on who they believe the killers are. If you guess correctly, that Killer is revealed and eliminated.

Each week, the Killers are given a choice - they can either poison someone, or recruit someone to join their death cult! Once selected, you are a Killer. If you opt out of the invitation, you will be automatically poisoned.

This game within the game (mini-game) keeps going until either everyone has been poisoned or the Killers have all been exposed. (or the Top 5, whichever of those comes first)

(and yes, once eliminated, regardless of how, of course you are eligible when the wheel decides to let people back into the competition. But come on, that's not as fun as saying "THERE'S MURDER IN THE CASTLE!!!!" )

And no, you will not know if you are the one poisoned until, well, you are no longer with us. Good luck. Sweet dreams!!!

The poll is open until tomorrow. therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1185269.html

Then we will see what else the Wheel of Chaos has in store for us all!!

mallorys_camera

The whole Israel/Iran 12-Day War thing is such a blatant piece of political theater.

When the dust settles, we will all find out that Bibi & the Khomini were burning up those back-channel phone lines, maneuvering to get Trump that Nobel Peace Prize he so covets.

###

Meanwhile, yesterday was fairly productive, although it was really fuckin' hot and cat ownership disqualified me from a potential housing situation—to be honest, I know the housing situation owner through the Shawanagunk Dems, and he is kinda weird, so maybe the cats saved me.

Did the rest of the trip-related errands, had an unsatisfactory phone conversation with RTT, and shortly will be taking the car in for its oil change. I am on that conveyor belt! And it is just possible I will hit my Remuneration quota before I leave on the trip.

I have been bemoaning my own lack of agency: Why don't I have more control over my life?

But, of course, agency is a relative thing. However aggrieved I may feel about my own, I still probably have more of it than 85% of the people who live—or have ever lived—upon this planet.

Forward, little conveyor belt!

shirebound

Happy Birthday,

debris4spike! I hope it's a lovely day.

tsuki_no_bara

it was SO HOT today. SO. HOT. i worked from work because for all its faults the ugly building where i work is arctically cold in the summer.

my roommate is GONE and all her stuff is GONE and she left me her orchids (two, small ones) and some random food and some random cleaning products but she is GONE. she came back saturday with her parents and her mom took over the dining room table to pack the remaining ceramics (and said something along the lines of "it doesn't look like there's been any progress" so i reassured her that even tho there were a bunch of things left it was SO MUCH BETTER than it had been and there was SO MUCH LESS STUFF) and her dad dealt with the plants outside (sort of) and my sister and i packed around them. eventually they all left with almost everything - my roommate left a bunch of stuff in the fridge and freezer - she was going to come back sunday but texted me that night to say she was on her way and then she and her dad reappeared and took what was left. and then i was alone. :D just me and my sixty boxes.

(when i got home thursday night my roommate had moved everything into her room and i thought it was the emptiest the apartment had ever looked since before we moved in.)

my sister came over saturday morning and helped me pack until we ran out of tape and while we were out getting more my roommate showed up with her parents. we filled sixteen boxes in like three and a half or four hours which was super helpful and then she had to leave and i lay on my bed in front of the fan to get out of my roommate's way and after she left i did some more. and friday i worked from home and packed some and the woman who wanted my bookcases came and got them and i just enjoyed being in the house alone.

and on sunday i got a late start and packed boxes and contemplated my navel and tried to cope with how hot it was. so hot. ugh.

i'm all caught up on resident alien and it is such a weird show but i really like it.

i should be packing but i am intimidated by the kitchen.

Current Mood: dying of heat
Current Music: resident alien

clauderainsrm posting in

therealljidol

The poll is currently up. So make sure to get your votes in! therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1185269.html

Have any Week 1 entries caught your attention, and kept it?

***

How are you doing?

***

We went to see 28 Years Later yesterday. It was good, but I wish I had known it was the first movie in a new trilogy. It would have made the ending seem less abrupt!

mallorys_camera

Not a great day, yesterday.

Getting ill—verifiably ill with no part of it due to some subliminal desire to feel sorry for myself—makes me feel fragile, and when I feel fragile, I get depressed, I get lonely.

But nobody I wanted to talk to wanted to talk to me.

J___ L_______ didn't pick up the phone. He probably saw it was me, I thought. And who would want to talk to me?

My other phone-buddy of choice may be dealing with a cancer diagnosis. Imagine! I thought. He's letting a cancer diagnosis interfere with talking to me.

I still wasn't feeling 100%: My stomach was lodgy, my appetite nil. I felt exhausted, and with that kind of exhaustion comes a deep brain fog. I had work to do, & I was doing it but neither happily nor easily.

And it was fuckin' hot out—like that Twilight Zone episode where everybody is melting because the Earth is veering into the Sun only it turns out they are hallucinating because the Earth is really veering away from the sun.

###

When I get depressed like that, I put off doing errands.

Like my car needs an oil change.

But what if in mucking around with the car, the mechanic finds that it needs $5,000 worth of work or it will explode on the Mid-Hudson Bridge tomorrow?

Under those circumstances, wouldn't it be better not to get the oil changed?

I mean, if they don't discover the car needs $5,000 worth of work, then it can't explode, right?

###

All afternoon long, I Remunerated gloomily away. Lew & Ed's wedding is this coming weekend, and I'm going to Ithaca & Edinboro for four days. Some details I took care of way in advance, but some are still dangling—like should I worry about the cats?

Four days is kind of the max for leaving cats untended with lots of food & water, and multiple litterboxes.

I never would have left Sybyl that long, but then, Sybyl loved me, and Mabel-Molly & Molly-Mabel do not. Never in my long history of animal companions have I ever had two who seemed so utterly indifferent. It's like adopting a waif from a Romanian orphanage & taking them home only to discover they have Psychotic Attachment Disorder.

(Well—Molly-Mabel may love me a little. She follows me around the house & often leaps up, meowing, for pets. But she dislikes snuggling & being picked up. Mabel-Molly has a memory like an elephant because she has never forgiven me for trying to condition & comb out her mats, and actually hisses at me every now & then—half-heartedly, true: a hiss of dislike not of aggression, but still.)

I don't really get a whole lot back from the kiskas.

When I am feeling upbeat, this is not a problem.

But I can't always feel upbeat.

###

In the late afternoon, Ichabod called.

We were both In a Mood.

Somehow, we started talking about RTT. "You know, every time I see him, we have at least one big fight," I complained to Ichabod. "And he tells me, 'I don't even feel like you're my mother. We hardly ever talk. You don't ever know what's going on in my life—' which isn't true, by the way. Everything that goes on in his life, he immediately posts to social media.

"So then I try to call him. And he never picks up the phone!"

"You & RTT need to go to therapy," Ichabod said.

"You think everyone should go to therapy," I said.

"That's true," Ichabod said.

"But I already know what the issue is. The real reason RTT doesn't feel like I'm his mother is because I'm so marginal. I don't have a home; I have a place where I'm staying for now. And he's ashamed of me because all his other friends have mothers with homes—"

"You really need to go to therapy," Ichabod said.

###

In the evening, J___ L_______ texted a starburst of photos:

Was sailing up in San Francisco all day! I'll call—

We'll talk SOON, I deferred hastily because by that point, I was utterly incapable of muttering a single word to another human being.

But the pictures of the glorious and presumably cool San Francisco Bay did make me feel a whole lot better.

###

In the end, it is what it is.

You sit at the table with the cards you're dealt, and sometimes you know the game you're playing, and sometimes, you don't, and sometimes by the time you figure out the game you are playing, they have changed the rules.

In the end, all you are really is a system of molecules whose coding has managed to defy entropy for 70 or 80 years. And the Universe is vast, filled with systems of molecules all doing their best to defy entropy. And so, gas clouds spin into stars and stars splinter into planets and things happen on those planets before the stars go all supernova, and nothing in your narrative can compare to those stories. Still, all stories have the same subtext: It is what it is.

mallorys_camera

I ignored the mystery stomach ache & did errands. You're just being a slacker! I told myself.

Got back to the casa & began Remunerating. But in addition to the stomach ache, I felt... off.

Now, I never know when I feel off whether I really feel off or I'm just malingering. I'm incredibly lazy, & will seize every opportunity to do absolutely nothing—

But, no. I had a throbbing headache (& I don't usually get headaches), and I felt weak, and my insides were churning—and then I broke out in a fearful sweat just before my insides did what insides do when they churn—and I felt as though I could barely crawl back to my bed.

Food poisoning or norovirus?

Spent the rest of the day and the following night in bed in a semi-delerium, listening to a bizarre Netflix show called Ginny & Georgia, which is simultaneously good & baaaaaad. (I have a thing for teenage dramas.) I had to guess what the characters looked like 'cause I couldn't open my eyes.

Woke up this morning feeling more or less normal, so I guess it was food poisoning?

Still. I'm going to be sedentary today.

###

Drama this morning: The water in the house turned off!

Icky has this ancient Orbit digital timer on his irrigation hose. It keeps not timing, so the watering hose keeps not going on—and his little tomatoes were all parched & dying. I fiddled with the Orbit settings to give the the tomatoes a soak—and in doing so, somehow managed to fuck with the water pressure inside the house.

Icky berated me soundly for this over the phone, and, of course, he was not wrong—one really shouldn't fuck with machinery unless one knows what one is doing.

Still, I felt aggrieved—I thought I was doing a good thing! Shouldn't I get credit for that?

If it's not Icky being a dick, it's the U.S. starting World War III!

Always fuckin' something.

clauderainsrm posting in

therealljidol

A few words from

clauderainsrm:

Welcome to the long dark teatime of your soul, a place that will haunt your nightmares and amuse your hopes and dreams until they realize that we know exactly where they are hiding, but they are safe there - Idol isn’t going to take them out (kill!), at least not for now.

No guarantees on later though. For the moment it’s only your nightmares who are in danger. Because I am the only nightmare in your life. All of the others need to cede ground and acknowledge when they are in the presence of a professional!!!

It’s that time in Week 1 where I say a few words and post a poll.

So - here are the words:
One of you will be randomly selected to receive an email. So be checking your Inbox. If you don’t receive one, then the wheel didn’t pick you. For now. Once you receive it, you will have a couple choices to make. Your game may be decided on what you choose, and without any doubt other people’s games definitely will be impacted by it as well.

Nothing quite like a vague sword hanging over everyone’s head to get things started off right!!!

So now, some other words - Thank you to everyone who has come out. It means a lot to me for you to be here. It’s a small group, but it promises to be a fun one, filled with weeks of great writing! Probably even more “cursing my name” sessions, but also great writing!

We aere off to a solid start with Week 1 and I want to encourage everyone, especially those new here to do the 4 important things over the next few days.

Read. Part of the fun of this whole thing is getting to read other people’s work. Do it!!
Comment on their entries. Everyone loves feedback! You like it. I like it. I think it’s fair to say that no one wants their work to just go out into a vacuum. Give them some love!
Vote for your favorites!!! You can cast votes for as many (or few) entries as you want. Yes, for participants you CAN vote for yourself. Honestly, if you’re not vouching for you, why would someone else? But I know people feel differently on the subject, so I’ll just say you can if you want.
Tell other people to do these things. SPREAD THE WORD! That’s the only way this thing keeps going. We’ve kept Idol going for 19 years with just word of mouth, friends telling friends about it! It’s your turn to be the one to tell people about it! They don’t need to participate to read, comment or vote!

All of this said, there will be (spins wheel) 1 contestant leaving us this week! (the options were 1-3)

The contestant with the fewest votes will be sent to the Dungeon of Chaos to rot for the rest of eternity. (or at least until the wheel gives them another shot)

The poll closes Wednesday June 25th at 9pm ET.

Good luck to everyone!

Note: Fausts_dreams link should be https://fausts-dream.dreamwidth.org/6729.html - my apologies. Obviously this week he is safe as a result of my mistake.

Poll #33276 ’Wheel

Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: Just the Poll Creator, participants: 43

Vote For Your Favorites!

adoptedwriter's entry
10 (23.3%)

adore's entry
14 (32.6%)

alycewilson's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

autumn_wind's entry
13 (30.2%)

bleodswean's entry
21 (48.8%)

drippedonpaper's entry
16 (37.2%)

eeyore_grrl's entry
18 (41.9%)

erulissedances's entry
18 (41.9%)

fausts_dream's entry
17 (39.5%)

flipflop_diva's entry
20 (46.5%)

garnigal's entry
8 (18.6%)

gunwithoutmusic's entry
11 (25.6%)

hafnia's entry
17 (39.5%)

halfshellvenus's entry
17 (39.5%)

i0ne's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

impoetry's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

inkstainedfingertips's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

kizzy's entry
12 (27.9%)

krispykritter's entry
14 (32.6%)

legalpad819's entry
13 (30.2%)

marjorica's entry
16 (37.2%)

matsushima's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

muchtooarrogant's entry
12 (27.9%)

murielle's entry
15 (34.9%)

oxymoron67's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

rayaso's entry
20 (46.5%)

roina_arwen's entry
13 (30.2%)

serpentinejacaranda's entry
10 (23.3%)

simplyn2deep's entry
15 (34.9%)

static_abyss's entry
14 (32.6%)

swirlsofpurple's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

talonkarrde's BYE WEEK - Votes Do Not Count
4 (9.3%)

tonithegreat's entry
13 (30.2%)

used_songs's entry
13 (30.2%)

vik_thor's entry
7 (16.3%)

wolfden's entry
15 (34.9%)

xeena's entry
20 (46.5%)

tonithegreat

Such a difference the passing of time makes. I guess it has been less than a year since I last participated in an Idol Mini season. But still, such a difference in so many directions. It feels nice to sit with a laptop in a coffee shop and write. It feels nice to open a nostalgic window on Dreamwidth and see a slice of the internet that hasn’t changed much in the last twenty years or more. There used to be a lot of talk about how the internet was actually getting much worse, back at the dawn of the forms of social media that have taken over most of our devices now. I added my voice to those choruses. But ultimately, like everyone, I was dragged along on this wild ride consisting of so many media and culture shifts. And now here we are.

Do not fall horizontally. This mandate was issued multiple times in the instructional videos that Anson and I had to watch in order to sign the waivers required by the climbing gym that hosted roped/sport divisionals earlier this year. It became one of the quotes of the trip; one we would just say during silences in the car. It was delightfully ironic given that her routes had lots of overhangs and roof sections, making it more likely that her body would be positioned horizontally during a fall. As it turned out, both of Anson’s falls were pretty clean during the competition. But then in the evening after the competition, I took a big spill trail running- one where my whole body managed to get way out in front of my feet and I had that horrible moment of realizing I was falling with nothing I could do to stop it before the big smack. That was three weeks ago, and the skin has all grown back on my knees now. Do not fall horizontally.

June 21, 2025. Yesterday night was the solstice. Today is technically my 17th wedding anniversary! It’s before eight. And I’m sitting in my neighborhood coffee shop writing. The world is moving too quickly. Much too quickly. But just as some things are spiraling badly out of control in our world, our family’s chaotic rhythm seems to be in sort of a good place? Maybe? Dare I write that?

This fall, Rog will be two years post big brain surgery. He’s 60 this year. Almost twenty years with young onset Parkinson's and, honestly, things could be a heck of a lot worse.

Our girls are Juniors in high school now, eagerly awaiting the revelation of their AP exam scores. This is going to be such a big year for them. They’re both starting to drive which is part of why I’m actually able to pretend that I can breathe a little bit at this moment. Anson just finished a week of cello camp at FSU. Jasper is finishing up her summer synchronized swim training ahead of Junior Olympic nationals which are held over the week leading up to July 4. She’s swimming four routines at nationals this year. And I should be adding a final round of finishing touches of glitter and rhinestones to her solo suit right now. Jas decided to take the lifeguard test with the city while Anson and I were up in Georgia for climbing divisionals, and she came out of it with an offer for summer employment. I’m so proud of both of them, working hard for the things they want to go after.

The girls keep on learning and making connections. People change and grow. And the world burns around us. It’s hard to wrap my mind around.

I finished the couch-to-five-k running program again a couple of weeks ago. My own health hasn’t been my priority for an alarming couple of years. Work has been both intense and satisfying and family hasn’t been easy and I just let my health go to the back burner. My schedule hasn’t been consistent enough to let me exercise with friends or cultivate new exercise friends. I actually had to start C25K from the very first week this time, and it even threw in a few extra bonus workouts over the course of the program based on what it saw from me. But I’ve finished it again- midforties-Toni style, I guess. I’m figuring out what that means now. Perhaps primarily a lot of ibuprofen. I rolled directly into 5k speedwork with hopes for a hot summer race toward the end of next month. I still don’t honestly know if I will ever run an elusive sub-30-minute 5k. In the deeper past when I was in close to the right shape to knock one out, I was always aiming for longer races. But I might dust that old goal off again as it starts to cool down this autumn, depending on what else is happening.

I’ve never been a fast runner. My advantage in running was always just that I can slip into a frame of mind where I am genuinely happy while running and that I’m built for the long haul. Forty-inch-inseam legs make for long strides. But I’m quite heavy for me right now and that doesn’t help the running.

One thing I have done this spring is to undertake my running on trails. In times past I did a lot of road running around home, but the trails do something for me other than just giving me a place to strive cardiovascularly. I love being out in the hot north Florida green. One of the parks where I’ve been running has a gopher tortoise burrow along the loop trail I use. A little over half my laps there, I’ve been able to say hi to a tortoise friend as I go by.

The other trail that’s closer to home has been a riot of wildflowers over the last few weeks. One morning, I discovered that mushrooms had popped up along the sides of the trail, which led me to long ponderings about what the designer of the Mario Brothers games was thinking about when he made it so that the characters could power up by punching mushrooms. I’m sure that there are interviews out there where people have asked questions about this. But running that morning, and finally starting to feel good in places had me thinking that for me, running through wildflowers was the real power-up move. Running past pretty flowers and dew-covered bracken ferns. . . There are certainly worse things.

Anyway, do not fall horizontally, kids, if you can manage it.

wolfden

( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )

flipflop_diva

( Lara was lonely. Desperately lonely )

This was written for the new season of

therealljidol, Wheel of Chaos! If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me or any of the other amazing contestants. You can find all the entries here. Looking for the voting post on Saturday night!

mallorys_camera

In the middle of the night, I woke from a really vivid, elaborate dream:

Ben had fallen in love with a girl from a hippie evangelist Christian sect.

In the dream's meta-tags, there'd been a lot of history: He'd left to be with her. He'd come back. He couldn't live without her & left again. He came back. He had to go back to the sect to get his stuff, and he'd only be gone for four days, and he was definitely coming back—but when he came back, he was very sorry, but his love for this woman was bigger than everything—

I wasn't hurt. I was furious. Get out now, I snarled, and pushed him out the door.

He was shocked, But-but—

I wasn't sad over Ben at all. The only thing that was on my mind was how was I going to handle my life on my own? Two kids and all these animals!

###

The girl Ben had fallen in love with was married to the leader of the hippie evangelist Christian sect, and I was hip to the fact that the leader was essentially pimping her out, and that's how the leader got recruits for his sect.

Not expecting to be kicked out, Ben had invited the girl, her husband, and their four impossibly platinum-haired kids to live with us.

I found them in one of the bedrooms.

OUT, I thundered.

The girl slit her eyes and looked at me haughtily. Of course, I was curious about her—she was short, slim, had chestnut hair and oddly tilted eyes. Nothing to look at. I was much better looking. She must be some kind of sexual goddess, I thought because that was one thing Ben was very, very good at, sex, and I often felt a little inadequate because my sexual needs and performance are on the simple side: Does not take much for passion to ignite in me.

I shoved the girl and her husband/leader out the door.

Felt a bit sorry for the children who were sweet and innocent, but no, they'd have to go, too.

###

(Again in the dream meta-tags.) Stephen Silverman had found me the apartment.

I'd gone to him in great distress, and he'd told me, This is a very special building. Chateau D'Amboise (?) Rent controlled: $1,500 a month. It's a very special building; only special people are allowed to live here.

The apartment was very messy, crowded with unpacked boxes and cages in which lived a number of cats—a large ginger female and a tiny translucent Bengal, no bigger than my fingernail, among others.

There were also several black and white puppies running around yipping.

You've got to get RTT to walk the puppies, otherwise they'll shit all over the place. And you've got to get the cats water—

Only in transferring the tiny snail-like Bengal to a cage with water, I somehow killed it. Felt an impulse to mourn and reminded myself sternly: You don't have time for that now.

Went out with the puppies. Somehow ended up at one of the outdoor cafeterias at U.C. Berkeley where I filled my pockets up with candy. Knew I had to get back to the Chateau, but didn't know which bus to take. Guessed I'd have to find a taxi, but could not find one.

###

Finally, I was back at the Chateau, only I couldn't remember which floor I lived on. Took the elevator to various floors. The floors all had various themes—I remember the tenth floor was Paris: You got out of the elevator, and you were in France.

Somehow I was in another family's apartment, & I recognized the family—You're Tamsin's mother, aren't you? But they did not recognize me. I did notice, however, that even though the family had lived in the apartment for years and years and years, it was almost completely empty. The interior decor of my apartment, as cluttered as it was, was actually more attractive.

Finally went back downstairs to the lobby and asked the concierge: Where do I live?

The concierge was a burly gentleman in elaborate livery with an elaborately curled mustache. He consulted an illuminated medieval scroll and told me, You live on the 15th floor—

And I awoke.

###

The heat dome had not yet descended yesterday, and so I spent four very pleasant hours playing in the dirt at the New Paltz community garden.

The New Paltz community garden is vast:

This morning I woke up with a mysterious stomach ache & kind of freaked because how am I gonna keep Black Chicken comfortable when the Heat Dome descends plus my car's AC isn't working—it's an expensive fix and requires sitting for an entire day at the dealership in Kingston—& suppose the Nazis invade, and I have to flee?

But I suppose it will all work out.

It almost always does.

gunwithoutmusic

silence rang out on the day
that we should have spoken
but we thought it would be better
than trying to un-ring the bell

     where in the world are you taking me? i asked, breathless. you didn't respond; you like to keep me guessing. or at least that's how it seems from my perspective while i wonder how it seems from yours. when we reached the pinnacle, i found myself too awestruck to question anymore. the world opened up, all greens and browns and blues, and i was there with you. the silence embraced me, a warm blanket that was comfortable to the point of suffocation.
     i broke it, as i am wont to do, with a joke about the view, with a smile and a wink in your direction. as if i could not let myself be comfortable there, even for a moment.

and why should i be comfortable
when we are what we are and
when we're doing what we're doing
why shouldn't i be afraid of

     i never did find out exactly when it was that you fell in love with me, if you did, since i never found that out, either. you told me a few times, but i guess i had a hard time believing it. it doesn't really make sense, after all, this thing between us. but the pull you have over me—it's incredible. i think i do that to you, too, but i just think. too much thinking without any knowing.
     we moved away from the peak, our feet crunching against old leaves that lazily fell to the ground in colder months, their trees shaking them off with the grace of a wet dog, renewing themselves. it feels different from the hair that falls to the bathroom floor when i shave my head, but i can't pinpoint why. maybe if i could, i would find that renewal. as it stood, i just followed you along the path you were making.

what are we becoming as we
slink silently to the shore
plant our feet in the water
and will ourselves to grow

     at its apex, i fell for you, and at its nadir, i second-guessed. i let myself embrace the silence between us, depressed the need to fill it up with words. i reflected myself in the water and saw you there, a distorted image that was almost wrong, but not wrong enough to give me the pause i needed. just wrong enough to put a question in my mind, words that my mouth would never form.
     it wasn't the first time we met, and it wasn't the last, but it sticks in my mind like used chewing gum clings to old carpet fibers. and it stays there as my thoughts race, trampling it bit by bit until it is a stain, an unremovable bit of miscellany like so many others. some days, i should very much like to cut that square from my mind and replace it with a fresh piece, ignoring the incongruity; it would fade in time to match the rest.

we are alike in so many ways
i am drawn to the similarities
and fascinated by the differences
you said we make a good team

     when you asked me to run away with you, to put aside everything else that i had worked for, to start a new life with you in another place, i didn't have to think. i had been, instead, waiting for you to ask. the ease with which i shed my skin came as a shock to me, but i could never tell you no when your thoughts met mine. maybe i should have. maybe where in the world are you taking me should have fallen from my lips like it did on the mountain.
     but I fear that all i've ever wanted was quality time with you.

hafnia

( beneath the jump. )

tonithegreat

This is not a good idea. I have way, way too much on my plate right now. There’s an entry due tomorrow already! But fine, I’m in. Gonna play LJ Idol, Wheel of Chaos! And you should too. Sign up here:

https://therealljidol.dreamwidth.org/1182845.html

halfshellvenus

The E Train
Idol Wheel Of Chaos | Week 1 | 7 x 100 words
Quality

x-x-x-x-x

Queenie
"Can't carry the world, can't bury the world," her mama used to say, but somehow Queenie was still trying.

With her daughter going to prison, there'd be two more mouths to feed. Queenie was headed to Brooklyn, where the food pantries were supposed to be better. She'd never used them before, but a secretary's salary only stretched so far.

Where would her grandbabies sleep? Her own kids already used the sofa. Guess she'd have to put them in her bed, at least for now. Anything but foster care.

Queenie couldn't protect her daughter anymore, but she'd keep her children safe.

Umesh
Umesh wasn't nervous yet. He was on his way to the airport, to fly home and begin the process of choosing a bride.

He wasn't sure he was ready, but he was twenty-eight and he'd already outlasted his mother's patience. He'd hoped he might meet someone on his own, but it hadn't happened. And his parents wanted him to marry a traditional girl, even though Umesh was a modern man.

He wanted someone pretty and accomplished, but who knew what women his mother had selected? Would the beautiful Anjali be among them?

Umesh shivered. No, he wasn't nervous at all.

Anthony
Quit yer bellyachin', he thought, his father's voice still in his head after all these years. So what if he hated his job? The pay was good. Not everyone got to live their dream. His dream was drinking beer and watching baseball, so no chance of making a living there.

If he had a car, he wouldn't have to ride this goddamn train. And if you was a surgeon, you wouldn't be going to Mrs. Sepka's to fix her toilet.

But there was a game on tonight, and Billy was coming over with a six-pack. Suddenly, things were looking up.

Lainie
It was just after eight o'clock, but Lainie was already drunk. She sat in the back left corner, her usual spot, and watched the other passengers' eyes slide past her. She used to be just like them.

Losing John had destroyed her. Five months she'd known it was coming, but that hadn't prepared her for the crushing grief that followed. Two years later now, she didn't want to die, but she couldn't figure out how to live.

Better to numb the pain and hope it would someday leave her.

Someday, she thought.

But today would not be when that happened.

Isabella
Isabella fingered the acceptance letter inside her purse. Medical school! It was everything she'd ever wanted.

She knew she had a hard road ahead of her. The studying would be intense, and then the years of internship and residency, and after that she still had to pass the boards. But it'll be worth it.

She was dressed in her most businesslike clothes now, on the way to interview for a loan. She hoped she looked grown-up, instead of like a kid going with her grandmother to the ballet.

And Illinois… She'd never been. But she couldn't wait to get started.

Teo
Abuela smelled like cinnamon, the most delicious smell there was. Teo's stomach growled as he thought about churros, but those were a Saturday treat, so he played with his toy car instead.

Down his leg and over the back of the empty seat in front of him it went. He imagined being a race-car driver, though "pirate" and Futbolista were still his favorites.

Abuela touched his cheek and offered him a slice of mango. "Tres paradas," she said. Teo could count to tres.

He watched treetops go by as the train rushed past. This is the world the birds see…

Yuri
Yuri's duffel bag held everything he could carry.

He'd hoped for acceptance, but he hadn't been surprised. There was no room in his parents' culture for boys like him.

"When did this happen?" his mother had asked, but Yuri always knew. He was just tired of hiding, and Andrei's smile had made him brave. Even if his parents never forgave him, he was still running to something instead of away from it. Andrei's house was just a few miles down the track, now.

Down below, sunlight glinted off car windows, a stream of stars pointing the way toward Yuri's future.

--/--

If you enjoyed this story, please vote for it along with any other favorites here

murielle

LJIdol: Wheel of Chaos
Prompt: Quality
25-06-20

I was diagnosed when I was about thirty-seven/eight years of age with (what is now generally called) ME/CFS (Myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome.) At that time, I had been ill for eight or nine years (probably much longer) with a long list of symptoms and though the catalog of symptoms has been changed for political reasons a few times since, mine have pretty much stayed the same. Political? Well, funding for research is hard to come by so changing the list of symptoms to align with some other similar disease makes the money flow a little easier. Long-COVID is our most recent companion disease.

ME/CFS is what is termed an invisible disease. That just means most of the time we who have it don’t look that ill, or disabled. I have been accused of malingering, just being lazy, faking it—whatever. Even had a doctor tell me once that while she believed in Fibromyalgia she did not believe in CFS. I really liked her, but did not like that.

So, Fibromyalgia? I also have that and MCS, Multiple Chemical Sensitivity. The trifecta! Sorrows come not single spies but...never mind.

What does that have to do with Quality?

Well, in Canada we have this little thing called MAID: Medical Assistance in Dying. So, there is a lot of talk about the Quality of life in this country. More, I imagine than in other countries where they don’t have MAID. Not too long ago there were two women with MCS who opted for MAID because it was too hard for them to find a safe place to live without exposure to chemicals their bodies couldn’t tolerate. My heart breaks for them.

Quality of life means different things to different people, obviously. Once, when I was facilitating a support group for those of us with any of these diseases there was a couple who came once, one had one of the above and the other didn’t. The other’s main complaint was that they couldn’t go dancing anymore. To someone like myself who has a very restricted life and really doesn’t go out except for medical appointments, once or twice a year to church, or on very rare but special occasions, lunch with a friend and who tries to be open minded, I had a difficult time wrapping said mind around that. But, for that spouse it was a hardship. Something they had shared that they could no longer share.

Recently, my pastor asked me to write an article about what it was like to live with ME/CFS. I said I would think about it but wouldn’t promise anything. Truth be told, I was stumped. Living with this disease takes all my energy, I think about how I’m going to feed myself, what I’m going to feed myself, when I’ll be able to shower and will I be able to wash my hair when I do. Everything I do takes a lot of thought and planning and prioritization. And there are some, I’m sure, who would say I have no quality of life. I disagree.

I can still love, feel joy and laugh, and reach out (by phone) to friends. I can still pray and write and read and knit and do many things that are gentle, slow activities that I enjoy enormously. And as difficult as my life may seem, I’m not interested in the alternative.

Back in the Fall, my doctor put me on a new medication. It was a disaster. I explained to her that it hadn’t just put me back a few weeks, months or even years, it had put me back decades in my journey to recovery. As heartbreaking as that has been, ending my life is just not an option. I suppose it comes down to how we each define the quality of our lives. If I can still comfort a friend going through a hard time, if I can still pray for those who are suffering, if I can still offer a little hope through peanuts and water to a squirrel or two, or kitty-sit the pastor’s cat for a week or so, I have purpose. I have joy. I choose life.

Deut. 30:19.

rayaso

THE CONSULTATION

Pinocchio needed an attorney for an unusual problem; however, this was not what he was expecting. The office was hard to find – it was in a field behind Old MacDonald’s farm. In front was a sign: “Don’t Get Beat Use Pete!” The office was small, sun-bleached, and needed paint. There was no receptionist, so Pinocchio opened the door and went inside.

The attorney himself was not exactly confidence-inspiring. He had big ears, a funny nose, and oddly shaped eyes. Still, Pinocchio was in no position to criticize, with his large blue bow tie, alpine hat, and funny nose.

“Peter Rabbit, animal-at-law,” Peter said, extending his paw. “Welcome to my hutch. I’m fully licensed by the Court of Grimm. How can I help you?”

“I heard you were the highest quality attorney in Fairy Tale Land. And I need the best. I want to sue Walt Disney.”

There was a long pause while Peter nibbled at a carrot and brushed some hay off his blue jacket.

“That may be difficult,” Peter finally said. “He’s dead. If you want to sue someone who’s dead, you need an attorney from the Poe Supernatural Court. I can recommend Casper over in the graveyard. He’s very friendly. Be sure and tell him I sent you.”

“They made Disney a hologram a couple of years ago. I’m a puppet made out of wood. If I can be sued in the Grimm Court, why can’t I sue a hologram?”

Peter scratched himself with one of his hind legs.

“I’ve handled a lot of weird cases,” said Peter. “I just got a settlement for Cinderella for injuries in her goat yoga class. I represented Snow White in a sexual harassment suit against those Seven Dwarfs. They kept whistling at her while they worked.”

He paused to scratch some more and think about the problem.

“Grimm Court jurisdiction extends to fairy tale characters,” explained Peter. “That covers a lot of ground, but Walt Disney, hologram or not, was never in a fairy tale. You were. Even if you were a real boy, you still would have started in a fairy tale.

“You aren’t covered by human courts, so perhaps I can argue for diversity jurisdiction. It’s never been tried before, but it just might work.”

Peter put down his carrot, stopped scratching, and his ears perked up.

“What’s your problem with Walt?” said Peter.

“He changed me!” said Pinocchio. “He sanitized me, made me cute, and turned me into some idiot song and dance puppet.”

“Not unusual for Disney . . .” started Peter.

“I was a scoundrel! Even Geppetto hated me and called me a wretched boy. The first thing I did after he carved me was to steal his wig! At one point, Fox and Cat hanged me from a tree. I’m tragic, not loveable – I’m supposed to be a warning, not some twit.   Sure, I get saved by the Blue Fairy and could become a real boy, but I was mean and cruel. Just ask the Talking Cricket – if you could. I squashed him. Instead, I was Disneyfied, just like all the others. This has to stop!”

“I know what you mean,” sighed Peter. “I’ve been made into cartoons and even computer-animated. That was the worst.”

“Then you’ll help me?”

“I don’t know. Disney has more lawyers than Old MacDonald has carrots. But they can’t practice in the Court of Grimm. They have to hire a fairy tale attorney and no one would work for Disney. However, one of their attorneys could be written into a fairy tale, but that lasts forever.”

“But then they’d be on our turf,” said Pinocchio. “And we could re-write them the same way Disney changed us. I don’t think they’d like that.”

“No,” said Peter, his ears standing straight up. “I’d hop circles around them.”

“But that’s not the only problem,” he added. “There’s also copyright law. Disney owns the copyright to the Disneyfied you. Copyright law protects the creator, not the character. The real you isn’t protected. Disney could do whatever he wanted, and he created a likeable you. No one would buy Pinocchio merchandise when you are, to be honest, you.”

“But they’ve stolen my soul and turned me into something I’m not, just to make money!” yelled Pinocchio as he pounded his fist into the wall of the hutch, cracking the old wood.

This outburst startled Peter. “Now I can see the puppet who squashed the cricket,” he thought.

“Calm down,” said Peter. “Here, have a carrot.”

Peter hated having to tell characters who wanted his help that there’s nothing he could do. Some attorneys would take the case just for the fees, knowing that there was no chance for success. Peter was not that kind of lawyer.

“I don’t know if this helps,” said Peter, “but you’re not the only character who’s wanted to sue Disney. Peter Pan, Cinderella, even Prince Charming have come to my hutch, and I’ve had to tell them what I’m telling you. Disney owns Fairy Tale Land and there’s nothing we can do about it. Most of them just give up and work for Disney. It’s not a bad life.

“It’s also too expensive to sue Disney. I don’t work for carrots and no one except maybe Rumpelstiltskin has that kind of money.”

Pinocchio visibly slumped. If he had tears, he would have cried.

“No one likes to hear they have no case,” Peter thought.

“Look,” he said, “you’ve got a choice none of the others had.”

“What’s that?” Pinocchio asked despondently.

“Go find the Blue Fairy. Transition into a real boy, and get out of Fairy Tale Land. It just isn’t what it used to be.”

“But how can I leave it behind?” Pinocchio said. “Never see the Enchanted Forest again? No more talking animals? It’s just too bleak. I can’t give up without a fight. I’ll get your fees and I’ll be back.”

Peter saw Pinocchio’s nose start to grow.

“He’ll never be back,” thought Peter.

Pinocchio left the hutch, but not in search of the Blue Fairy.

“I’ll find Geppetto and see if I can patch things up with him,” he thought. “He carved me -- he’ll know what to do.”

Geppetto lived far away, on the other side of the Enchanted Forest.   It was going to be a long trip, but at least he wouldn’t have to talk to any lawyers.

Peter Rabbit hopped out to Old MacDonald’s vegetable patch to steal some more carrots, singing Ee i ee i o. He knew there’d be more clients. There always were.

___________________

erulissedances

I'm finally happy with what I wanted to write, so it's posted. Here's your link, and I'd love it if you read it, and love it even more if you enjoy it enough to vote for me.

https://erulissedances.dreamwidth.org/1118554.html

I'm not sure how long I'll be able to do Idol this time, as I had mentioned in my blog earlier, but I'm going to try my damndest to keep in the mix for as long as possible. I love writing to a theme. It always makes me think outside the box.

- Erulisse (one L)

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Page Summary

mallorys_camera - Gaskets
clauderainsrm in therealljidol - The Wheelhouse - Week 1 - Day 11 - Poisoned!!!
mallorys_camera - Conveyor Belt
shirebound - It's a birthday!
tsuki_no_bara - i am not a warm weather creature
clauderainsrm in therealljidol - The Wheelhouse - Week 1 - Day 10
mallorys_camera - It Is What It Is
mallorys_camera - Always Fuckin' Something
clauderainsrm in therealljidol - Vote - Week 1
tonithegreat - LJ Idol, Wheel of Chaos! Week 1 - Quality
wolfden - Week 1 LJ Idol: Wheel of Chaos
flipflop_diva - LJ Idol Wheel of Chaos — Prompt 1 — Quality
mallorys_camera - The Fifteenth Floor of the Chateau D'Amboise
gunwithoutmusic - I. Quality
hafnia - therealljidol, wheel of chaos: prompt 1, "quality"
tonithegreat - LJ Idol - Declaration of Chaotic Intent!
halfshellvenus - LJ Idol Wheel of Chaos: "The E Train"
murielle - LJIdol: Wheel of Chaos Prompt: Quality
rayaso - The Consultation
erulissedances - Quality - LJ Idol, Week One

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