Monthly Archives: February 2012

Shallow Grave

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“Pick your glass,” Miss Anna said. “There’s three, all alike.”

“Oh, no ma’am. We trust you,” Trevor said quickly.

Miss Anna laughed. No music in her voice, but no needles, either. “No you don’t” she said. “Nor would I in your shoes. Pick. But don’t drink. Not yet.”

“Did you really hex Mark for what he did to those cats?” asked Paul.

Miss Anna didn’t laugh this time. Just shook her head.

“But you could have,” Paul continued. It wasn’t a question.

Miss Anna nodded.

The choice in beverages suddenly seemed very important indeed. Trevor closed his eyes and picked blind, then Paul did the same.… Read the rest

The wagon

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Hello, my name is Jessie Bishop Powell, and…

Well…

This is hard. But they say that confession is good for the soul. I’ve been on the wagon since early January, and I’ve done well. So well.  This week, though, has been a humdinger. I’ll tell you about it another time. Suffice to say, it’s enough to drive anybody to revert to old addictions.

But I held out until last night.

It doesn’t matter what happened. It only matters that I surrendered. I woke up this morning determined to do better. When I set out for the grocery store, I was looking for shoe insoles.… Read the rest

So dry

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Salty waves beneath. Parched sky above. My love, I will die on this ocean.

___________________________

This weekend, those crazy crazy editors at Trifecta want us to write a story in three sentences. Those are mine. Up there.

… Read the rest

Friday Fluff February 3, 2012

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Friday Fluff, Friday Feb 3, 2011

As always with Friday Fluff, this is just one blog with a grown woman answering questions written by a weird teen. These questions come from here, and there’s a linkup at the bottom to Lisa over at Seeking Elevation. Oh look. I just put one up top, too. Because that’s how I roll. Now let’s get this hoss moving.

Have you ever flirted with your best friend’s bf/gf?

I don’t flirt with myself. Too weird. And yes, I’m married to my best friend. And I’m his girlfriend, too.

Do you think that you’re all that and your probably really not?… Read the rest

Fiction: Or Else

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Ogee Smith wasn’t trans; he just came back a girl. It happens all the time. Man in one life, woman in the next, somewhere in between in a third. Sometimes, the cosmic gears get all fuckowack and a body comes back wrong and spends a lifetime adjusting. But not Ogee. Ogee came back a girl, but he really hadn’t made the change yet.

And finding a shrink who understood? Ogee’s parents visited thirteen. When Ogee said, “I need to understand gender expectations because I used to be a boy,” the psychiatrists and psychologists started spouting codes.

So when she was eight, Ogee’s parents took her to a regression therapist.… Read the rest

Fiction: Criminal Intent

Posted on by February 25, 2020

If Sheena, not Benjamin, but if Benjamin, then possibly also Rob.

Archer Bancock ran the scenarios through his head again like it was one of those logic problems he completed to pass the L-SAT. He even had a chart drawn up, but too many things cancelled each other out. He thought he might have found the one O in all those columns of X’s, but he wanted to be sure, so he got out a fresh sheet of paper and started writing.

Certainties:

1) Visa confirms, duplicate card delivered to office while we were in Caymans.

2) Since we got back, card has been used to make several $50 purchases around town.… Read the rest

Old Friend

Posted on by February 25, 2020


Grad school exacerbated my bipolar. I’ve mentioned that before. And it took away my writing completely for four horrible years. And what’s worse was that I felt it going away. I took some creative writing classes and suddenly had nothing at all to say. Each piece was a struggle, and as I finished the final story, I realized that there simply were no more ideas. None at all.

It wasn’t just a matter of writer’s block. Writer’s block implies a hurdle that one can overcome. There was nothing at all in my way. I was still sitting down regularly, trying every trick I knew, and there was just nothing there.… Read the rest