The Transgina Monologue

I suppose it doesn’t hit you at first, you know those early years when nothing conscionable is happening in one’s existence. There are few words anyway and nearly all of them relate to external factors, such as, mama, dada, hugs, food: me, - - me, me, me!

Is ‘me’ an ‘external factor’ I wonder, when you have not yet learned to express the word ?

I don’t know, but I suppose it was probably my very first ‘pronoun conundrum’ even though I did not know it then. No, truth to tell, those first two or three years don’t count for much.

Pablo stared at me for a few seconds, before looking into the main body of the hotel, then turned back to me.

“You cannot do this”

“I can, and I have already paid the man at the desk, and it was less than I would have paid your friend with the taxi. The car taxi, not the twat with the horse”

“Twat?”

He was clearly puzzled, and I found my cheeks burning.

“A rude word in English”

Link: Every Day Is Your Last Title Page and Description

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I spent my next Liberty with Erica. She talked while I listened and messed with her hair. I learned a lot about Jack, things he never told me. I understand why he'd kept it to himself, though. He'd endured so much pain, it's amazing he was only as nuts as he seemed to be! No one want's that to show.

The Joiners pt 10.

by
Angharad

Carrie thanked Diana for her makeover and Diana gave a short hug telling her to knock 'em dead that evening, Carrie replied she'd do her best.

I was late for breakfast, so missed my friends. A quick inquiry at reception and they sent an e-mail to the address Yves had given me; I wondered if it was purely external links, outside Cuba, that were unreliable. Never mind; when I returned from my day face-down in the sea, I had a reply, and an appointment the next morning, which gave me the excuse I needed for an early night, just as Nicole was sorting her footwear out. By early night, I mean some more beer in the other venue, where a soprano of rather more than decent quality was working her way through some opera standards.

Final chapter of my Moments of Madness story.

I really did write this song in a Bob's Big Boy this morning....

The continuation of the story based on my real life experiences.

Once again, there are conversations of suicide and mental anguish, so if you are not emotional able to read on this stuff, please avoid this story.

“You not on a working day, then?”

I shook my head.

“Nope. Actually flying with your lot, this time”

“Where are you off to, then?”

“Cuba”

“Ooh! Packed your dancing shoes?”

“I don’t dance. Packed my snorkel and flippers, though”

It's Christmas season, 1985. Jack Nemo has had no sleep for several nights in a row. It has been one weird interruption after another for this elderly homeless fellow. Terribly fatigued, he boards a city bus, simply hoping to catch a few z's out of the rain. But little does he realize that this bus---and existence as he knows it---are about to take a detour into a chaotic realm of unrelenting strangeness, presided over by a chthonic entity known as...