What Ever!

“Screw you guys, I’m going home!” Eric Cartman

What Ever!

You were smiling
Feeling charming
And quite beguiling
The sun was shining
This was supposed to be
A great day
For a song or a play

But then it turned out to be
Something else completely
It turned out to be
One of *those days*
Struck you in the face
Run over like a ten ton truck
And disappear without a trace

What the fuck?
Feeling like a schmuck
Completely out of luck
Standing in the rain
Without an umbrella
Almost going insane
And not from singing a cappella

So I say “What ever!”
And take my leave

Coffee made me do it! (TBT)

“Black as night, sweet as sin” Neil Gaiman


Coffee made me do it!

Today I went off the edge
I didn’t even take a pledge
I pranced around like a Fred Astaire
The others looking with a stare
Laughing out very loud
And feeling extremely proud
An old tune from years ago
Nothing to stop the show
I started singing that tune
Not being any kind of prune
Why this happened you may ask
It wasn’t anything from a flask
Though I have one excuse to acquit
The Coffee made me do it!


What ever floats in my mind (two)

“Whatever floats your boat as long as it doesn’t sink mine!”

float boat 1

What ever floats in my mind

Start your engines and may the best women; win!

Yes, yes, yes! I was watching the season finale of the RuPaul’s Drag Race today and, no, my favourite queen was not crowned today. This is actually supposed to be, again, one of those exercises for where I type in what ever floats in my mind in an allotted amount of time.

Problem: There is a *lot* floating there, whether it is inspirational, interesting or even artistic, is another matter. So here I am tapping the keys on my mac, which I actually wrote an homage to a little while back. Go figure!

OK, so back to the subject at hand: What is going on in my mind? Thinking, thinking, thinking… Ah here is a topic! Well, as my Mommy used to tell me: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the fuck up!” And she was right. I try to count to five, sometimes even ten is needed to calm down when ever something really sets me off. But I am going to share a little secret here, trying not to be to harsh about it.

For a little while now, I have gotten deeper and deeper into the underbelly of the wery wide web. Yeah, the “w” was on purpose ;P So like the rant said, I am socially investigating interesting and well to be honest, not so interesting sites and people. (No, *not* stalking 😉 ).

Where was I? Oh yes, so I have been following this TV show and kind of liked it. Actually liking is an understatement! I got pretty much hooked on it. Enjoying the seasons so far (last season was kind of ‘meh’), but now I have learnt of a few changes in the show and the main characters are about to happen in the upon coming season. To be honest, all the hype out there generated by the “real” hard core fans is getting really annoying and the changes seem unrealistic to the nature of the show, so it may be I need to start looking for a new favourite series sooner than later. They say change is good, well, let’s see. Maybe I will turn off the television all together and pick up knitting!

Alright, enough about that subject. Guess now since I have actually shared my pain I can move on! Oh please grow up! It is a television series, not real life.

So back to the topic and what is floating in my mind. Oh, oh, oh, I have revived my life passion of photography. Not that I ever left it, but for the past year or so, the extension of my arm, also known as a c.a.m.e.r.a, had been a wee bit neglected, but now I once more feel it detached to myself. Snapping away like a mad woman!

Talking of which, or witch: yes you can call me one if you like ;P. So talking about being a little cuckoo or hii-haa or (whistling sound while spinning my finger pointed at my head), so crazy basically. I have come to realize you have to be a little off your rockers to actually pull out any kind of regular job people do in today’s world. And I think it is actually a requirement for the artistic field. So guess I am on the right track, either way. And to think about it, I used to be worried, especially having such a crazy family. But that tale is a topic for another day!

So what is floating in my mind… Let’s see, of course the pending surgery, that is a given. What else. Train of thought, OK, now I am actually thinking and when that happens, all ideas are out the door. For example if I plan my writing ahead, characters, plot (what plot?) and all that jazz, I end up having a nice setup and then start writing and the complete work is actually something completely different. So, I have realized thinking is no good, not for me at least. This may not be a good guideline for everyone and certainly not what the books on the subject matter teach. But when I let go, and let the characters guide me, the story writes itself. OK, so I am telling a little tall tale here, since I currently have at least ten stories in various stages of incompletion, but still. Take this rant for example. No planning and here I am typing, still typing, just typing. Utter, complete, nonsense!

And with that thought, I will take the exit to the right. Thanks Ladies and Gents! It’s been real! Please come back for more in the near future for more of… Tales of the Unexpected (or what ever floats in my mind)!

What ever floats in my mind (one)

“Every writer I know has trouble writing” Joseph Heller


What ever floats in my mind

I woke up, when I was born, no sooner, no later. That was as stupid an opening line as “Once upon a time” or “It was a cold and rainy night”, but I thought I was being clever in starting the tale with a joke. You who follow my writing may have noticed the humouristic twist in most tales, at least at some point. For the life of me, I cannot write serious, not matter how I try. Maybe I would have a career in joke writing or scetches for “Saturday Night Live” or similar shows.

OK, so the agreed process for this tale is: Absolutely no censorship in this tale, my mind freely flowing as my fingers do the typing. I am no longer in command of this vessel. What ever is written on these pages is purely fictional as produced by the army of voices living in my head. I was thinking of cheating of course, thinking before writing, plotting my way into this tale.

After emerging from the deep state I was in, I decided to finally let go, to leave it alone, to not think too much and see what will develop. Apart from the typos caused by my fingers not being able to keep up, this is all just a flow of the mind. I know it is crowded in there, despite the fact the sign implies there is “room for rent”. My occupants like to play tricks on me and those who might take a glimpse to my brain.

Funny things those renters of mine. I prefer to use that word rather than thinking this is a permanent situation. I do hope, that, at some point the other voices will take their leave and I can finally make decisions on my own. Whether that be writing or something else. Mostly it is writing though. When I do decide to let go, the writing is usually good, so I really shouldn’t be taking any credit. But someone once said, A good writer borrows, a great writer steals.

Oh, oh, I am stuck now, either the others went on a break or then they are all napping. I am actually wondering how familiar and TV-oriented this sounds. I do sound like a Borg drone from Star Trek, don’t I. “I can’t hear the others, I need the others to survive!” must be the most quoted line in the franchise when the Borg characters are in play.

But I digest, I mean digress ;P

Flow of mind or the lack there of. A while back I wrote a funny note on my mind having too many tabs open. Oddly enough, that was not fiction but fact. I do like to dabble more on the fiction than the fact side, never getting too personal, but I have a warm feeling inside of me. Guess I am safe as long as it doesn’t run down my legs! But so far so good.

So, back to fact or fiction, was that what I was talking about? No, it was the thing of too many things occupying the brain at one point, hence the tabs and open thing. OK, back on track. So yes. That actually has a link to the ever so talked about writer’s block. The only blockage I have or have had for the past fifty odd years is or was the fact that I do censor myself, a lot. I have so many ideas, causing my mind to overflow.

Currently, as I started my writing life for the third and hopefully charmed time, I will let myself write what ever I want, who ever I want and where ever I want. Sans all the self doubt, drama and excuses. Oh my! Now I am finally getting serious! I actually got a little serious there a day or so back when I poured my heart and thoughts to a few darker poems. I admit I use humour as a cover and rather than dwelling on real life issues, I crack a joke.

I freely admit to the following personality traits: I am sarcastic, pessimistic, I have a warped sense of humour, I am spontaneous yet conscious, I am lazy, but also industrious, at least when work is concerned, personal life not so much. So now you know. I like to hide but remain right in the open. I talk a lot, but say nothing.

Back to the topic again, (I seem to be loosing the track now constantly), what ever that was, I actually forgot at this point. Oh yes, free flow of the mind. So not a jogy, not a Vulcan, not logical, just your average everyday humanoid being. So that is my life story or sort of story. At least what I came up with today. I guess this is more than four hundred words. I don’t know how much of myself I have revealed in this little mind tale, but read between the lines or over the lines. Somewhere there, between, lies the truth

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race after all!

“We are all born naked and the rest is Drag” – RuPaul

It’s A Human… No, It’s A Drag Race after all

This is Ixavier Lasloth coming live from the Galaxy near you!

Our news team is currently orbiting a small bluish rock in the farthest corner of the known universe. We are here to observe the supposedly dominant occupants of this planet they have named “Earth”. These people seem to be involved in something called the “human race”, although as to where and when the race will take place is still unclear.

We are here to observe the ritualistic behaviour of this particular species, whose skin colour is varying from a pinkish hue to darker brown shade or sometimes even red. Some of them are covered in a thick fur like layer, while others remain neutral and satisfied in their original skin.

We are in disguise to avoid any panic our strange appearance may cause in the inhabitants.

Upon closer inspection, we can clearly detect at least two distinctive sexes, but there may be more.

Although most of these creatures seem to be content in their existence, some of them rebel against the existing norm. These individuals have ventured to live their lives with their own set of rules and formed tight knit groups and living off the radar. These “outsiders” worship their heroes in an almost religious fashion.

This exceptional behaviour is the reason, why this reporter landed on this forsaken rock and decided to have a closer look.

After making contact with some of these “radical groups”, we were fortunate enough to get invited to observe one of their many rituals. The core group and their followers call themselves “De-rag Q-ueens.

We were invited to observe their masking ritual, reserved for the most elite individuals of the group. The “males” as we got to know them were performing an age old ceremony named the “drag race”.

Observing the ritual to a fault, there is a strict regime to follow:

The first step is to apply a thick layer of paint on the face. The next step is to add a head piece, which seems like a construct of some sort of animal hair. These headpieces come in every imaginative colour of the rainbow. To complete the transformation, a garment weaved with glittering items is pulled over the top half of the body. The feet are covered with footwear constructed from a leathery material and with an added feature, which seems to give the wearer more height.

When the total transformation from “male” to “female” was complete, it was time to “put on a show”.

The Q-ueens lined up and started walking in orderly fashion on what seemed to be a structure of wooden planks they had named the “cat walk”. A rhythmic beat followed by electrical lights flashing caused the Q-ueens to start producing sounds from their throats causing melodic sounds coming out from their mouths. This ritual was of a repetitive nature, where the melodies and sounds varied depending on the individual performing them. The “show” continued and the partakers managed to change their attire several times over before the ceremony was over.

All in all while observing this religious ritual in all its glory, this reporter found oneself caught in the moment; cheering and applauding at the end of the ceremony, which luckily was the accepted social convention.

While trying to get more in-depth information as to what the origin of this particular ritual was, I was fortunate to interview one of the elders among them. And the message, quite clear and directly quoted:

“We may be born naked, but surely the rest needs to be drag”
In this reporter’s opinion, this may be one of the more successful stories of Earth.

Until next time, this is Ixavier Lasloth, signing off!


Room with a View

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” – Joan Didion 


Room with a View

We had been driving for a while, not sure whether this road we were on, would lead us to the right place. Everything was different now. What once were wide open fields and forest, had now transformed into a mini suburbia. It was difficult to navigate by only old images serving as maps for the familiar road taken some forty years ago.

“There, take a turn here!” I pointed out to the direction looking to lead to were I wanted to go.

The car swerved and after a moment, I started recognizing familiar landmarks, still standing after all these years despite the changes. The big boulder standing proudly at the very edge of the ledge. As
kids we use to play and re-enact our favourite TV shows, pretending the rock was part of an alien planet.

Driving further and deeper into the woods, the distances between houses were getting longer and soon I was able to see recognize some of the places long since forgotten. We had finally arrived.

Stepping out of the car I noticed the neighbours’ house was still standing on the accompanying lot, still as run down as it had been all those years ago. I wondered if anyone actually lived there anymore.

Looking at the empty spot where our home had been, I could still see some of the rocks which had been part of the foundation of the house once standing proud, laying scattered After neglect and abandonment, the run down building had finally been demolished.

I walked around in the tall grass, feeling nostalgic and remembering how it used to be. As I closed my eyes I am transported back to the old house, my playhouse, the house I was born in.

It was a warm summer’s day. I could smell the freshly cut grass and see all the flowers in bloom. The field surrounding the house was filled with yellow, the colour of dandelions.

As kids, it was really fun to blow off the seeds when the flowers had bloomed and were ready to pollinate. Little did we know we were actually helping the flowers to spread. They looked like skydivers as they slowly landed on the ground.

I turned and looked at my home, the raw wooden exterior, no creature comforts, such as running water or toilets. The outhouse was a little farther up the hill, covered by tall trees and bushes. Someone probably thought it would be a good place to hide it, so the onlookers would not find out the people actually went to the toilet in those days.

As I moved closer, I saw my grandmother sitting in the swing. She loved that swing. She sat there for hours on end, watching us kids play in the yard. I waved to her and continue inside. I was thirsty and I knew there was a pitcher of cool lemonade in the kitchen. In those days a refrigerator was a luxury and we did not have one.

To keep things cool, there were sort of holes or wells dug into to the ground, filled with cool ground water. The food was then put into a bucket and lowered into the hole. Our kitchen had one in the middle of the floor and it was handy especially during hot days like this one was.

The house itself was small, two bedrooms, a living room and the kitchen. There was electricity coming into the house, for lamps and such. And of course to the piece de resistance, the television. The only one in a ten mile radius. The neighbour kids and I used to gather in the house every Sunday afternoon to watch our favourite TV show, Thunderbirds. Even grandfather sat with us kids and watched the show in awe.

As I entered the house, I walked through a small foyer: It was really a tiny space between two doors before actually entering the inside of the house. When guests arrived, there usually was a queue waiting for entry into the house. Each in turn taking off their shoes, leaving them in the foyer and then entering.

I quickly stepped out of my clogs and entered the kitchen. The opposite wall was filled with cupboards and a sink. And of course no running water nor sewers. The long kitchen table surrounded by twelve chairs dominated the room. At Christmas and holidays we used to gather around it with family and friends.

I went to the “well” and opened the hatch. Hoisting the bucket up and taking one bottle. Putting the bucket back, closing the hatch. Walking to the cupboards, I took two glasses out. Satisfied I carried my items outside to where my grandmother was sitting.

After pouring the cool lemonade in the glasses and offering one to my grandmother, I sat down in the swing beside her. Letting the gentle swing and the warm summer breeze lull me into sleep.

After for what seemed an eternity, I finally opened my eyes and I was back in the present. The grass still green, field still filled with yellow dandelions, smiling at the warm memories of childhood and my trip back in time.

Throwback Thursday 2

“It’s that time of the week, the time for a throwback, waaaay back!” Gun Roswell

Throwback Thursday 1-2

Blemish and wrinkle free

Ah! I just love those photogenic filters!
What marvelous are them inventions!
The end result, always so slim and fit
Never, ever wrinkly, and certainly not, looking like shit!
Maybe even add a touch of monochrome
And, voila, you really got a great tone!

Throwback Thursday 1

“It’s that time of the week, the time for a throwback, waaaay back!” Gun Roswell

Throwback Thursday 1-2

These were the golden days?

How was it, way back then?
When all you had, was so much time to spend?
All those big plans ahead of you
Choices to be made, were more than a few

The image, in front of you now, might be a little faded
But did you manage to do, all those things back then stated?

A Trip to the Lake 2

”Cannot beat being by the water!” Gun Roswell

A Trip to the Lake

Which way is the Harbour?

Finding my way, but must to my dismay
I seem to be lost in the labyrinths of the coast
The tall buildings and narrow roads
Have confused my senses, and so

I am looking for a resident member
Of this community, hoping a lender
Of a helping hand to guide me
Through the maze ever surrounding

Finally, a friendly face
I am able to find in this place
Aiding me to navigate, towards the gate
I am finally out, and the harbor,
Well, it was just around, the corner!

Calm Seas for TBT

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever”
Jacques Yves Cousteau

Calm Seas

A long walk behind me, legs giving up, trying, to get somewhere, where I can finally relax. Not one soul have I encountered for a long while, I did not even realize the time, just kept on walking, the only talking, was done to myself, by myself. Clueless, helpless, dragging myself forward, as more time passes by.

But then, something, a new odour, alerted my nose. Sniffing, thinking, this, is familiar. Something fresh like a breeze, maybe, with a touch of salt? I fasten my pace, walking towards the smell, my nose the only guide.

As I am walking, ney, half running towards the intoxicating smell, I can feel a cool breeze against my face. Sounds of what seems made by birds, fill my ears and get louder by the minute. Dare I hope this is what I think it is? Yes, it must be, and now, now I am running. Feeling the moistness in the wind, the sounds of waves crashing in.

Soon, I reach the end of my journey, standing, on the top of a cliff. Looking down, nothing but miles and miles of seashore. Sand and rock, blue ocean waves, birds a flocking in the distance. Fluffy white clouds, a little sunshine between them. The horizon blurred, with the sea and sky, blue on blue, in different hues. No one else has entered this paradise. It is almost undisturbed, as if no one else of this place has ever heard.

This, is the place, a place for me to finally sit down, and relax, enjoy myself, find myself. Heck, maybe I just settle down here, forever!