Words squirting out in resplendent glory

May 28th, 2008. Florida.

Dear Diary Post #3,

I think the lines between him and me are growing more blurred. The separate identity I carved out is still there, but I’ve reached an equilibrium in the way I come forward. It’s not always necessary to use the entire body, just the fingers and sometimes the mouth. And let’s face it, what other part of the male body do you really need? I used his fingers to write chapter 14 of my novel over the holiday weekend. I was quite pleased because this was the first time I did extensive writing at home, rather than at his workplace. The novel is up to 35,000 words and working on the next chapter this week. I figure if I can keep a pace of 4,000 words a week, I’ll be fine.

I cannot match his production though without drastic measures and those would probably not be warranted. Unless he quits his job, which of course means no money and thus no house, no food, etc, etc. So the whole starving artist routine is not going to happen. Little progress on my memoir, I’m waiting to get re energized with that book and to get it edited by others. With the economy the way it is, that may be years down the road, if ever. I’m scrimping my pennies to be able to self-publish, but that will be even longer. Unless I sell my body, but that’s illegal. 😉 But buying dinner and a movie in exchange for sex is not.

As you’ve noted I’m not answering comments here on my blog. I read each and every one and I thank you most kindly for your time and effort in reading. I send out emails once in awhile, but the reality is, I’m not logged on as me very often, except to send out chapters of my novel to my writers group. But I do think of you with fondness and gratitude.

This week’s Three Word Wednesday prompt is Blurred, Illegal, Match.




When the rains falls on asphalt

May 23rd, 2008. Florida

Dear Diary,

Post #2

Sunday Scribblings asks about quitting. I have a question of my own for you diary. Why does quitting equate to weakness? It seems to me that life is a series of quitting. You can quit a job. You can quit a relationship. You can quit smoking. Yet all we ever hear is the importance of never giving up. To keep striving and reaching for that goal.

What exactly is the point diary? Why do all of us seek approval for our actions from others? Parents then teachers then bosses. What makes them have all the answers? Quitting and not reaching a goal should not always be a failure, but simply a realization that it’s time to move on to something else. Instead of telling someone to try harder and not quit, why not ask instead, what can you do? This business of everyone being successful no matter what the cost is illogical and unsustainable for any society. If you get up in the morning and decide to keep breathing then you are no quitter.

We just got back from seeing ‘Prince Caspian’ in the movie theater and it was mildly entertaining. What made it interesting is that all of the characters faced the same choice over and over again in the movie and with the exception of young Lucy, all of them made the same choice.

None of them could quit killing.

I think that’s sad.



The Evolving Story of Rose

on the edge of leaping, lost
my focus, the
words hurt
cut me, a
delayed reaction
but true nonetheless
for my blood
is invisible
but pulses
just the same
slower and slower
the edge of vision
goes out of focus
delayed to

By Rose Dewy Knickers, May 21st, 2008

May 21st, 2008. Florida

Dear Diary #1,

I’ve never claimed to understand what happened to me. Never claimed to understand anything at all. After Jo and I talked yesterday I had the notion to blog again. Then the words above came when I saw the prompt at Three Word Wednesday. That always was my favorite day of the week, the place where I felt most at home. Nothing feels like home anymore. I meant what I said when I stopped blogging seven weeks ago, I can’t blog and write. I am writing a lot, my novel is up to 30,000 words and the story is moving along. Lots of work to do though as I don’t even consider ‘MR’ a first draft, but more of an outline. I want to thank all of you in my writers group for your input and suggestions. I know how hard it is to take the time to honestly critique someone else’s work.

So what’s the problem Rose? The poem above is the problem. That’s how I feel, because without writing about me, having a place to call my own, I don’t exist. There is no one in my life for me. No one special sweetie to cuddle in the night. Any volunteers? Don’t all jump up at once! Sorry, got off track. What I’m trying to say is that I need to be visible, not because you’ve forgotten about me, but because I’ve forgotten about me. Being a writer is my calling and in order to be more balanced, I need to write my inner thoughts here as well. What’s the point of being real if I’m hiding from myself? There is no point, that’s a trick question. There’s also no point in not using this space I created to keep the connections that are vital to my well being and state of mind.

I’ll keep this post as the front page and add entries as the whimsy strikes me. Harder! Harder! Ha Ha! I’ll be adding periodically to this diary and new entries will always be on top. I like being on top. You can comment or not, email or not, call me or not, but one thing I won’t have any time for is visiting you. That hasn’t changed in the last seven weeks, there is less time than ever for me and the future is clouded.