Rachel's Poetry for Friends

Sunday, February 01, 2004

 
Your stories are full blown
visions in my mind as you
tell the plot and the
characters and what they said to,
and heard from you,
those years past.


A name I recognize from a place
I enhabited many years ago,
before the pain of loss and
success and adventure and
living of each day alone,
here.


Peeling back layers of you,
and your gentle questions in
response. I know you realize
I have built walls to protect
my trifling secrets.


Somehow you know walls are only
built to be torn down when the
architect sees a happy visitor.
Just in the same way a smart
meiser saves to buy the gold cup.


In those listening moments my
mind opens up to the possibility
of knowing a worthy smart devil
in disguise to lead me to the
end of this chapter,
this book of life.


January 15, 2003
2:03am




A glance at the clock
on the table by the bed
tells me it is 1:48 am here
in this little place I live.


My mind goes to you,
Seven hours away, you are
just starting your day and
I can imagine you're
dressing, tieing your shoes.


You will make her breakfast,
those pancakes you like and
eggs over easy with bacon
and of course strong perked
coffee and fresh orange juice.


She will be thinking how
delightful it is to be getting
used to having you there,
making her days better with
your careful passionate self.


Soon she will think,
"how did I ever breath
deeply before he came here?"
And you will see the light
in her eyes shine, bright.


Seduction by kindness is
the gentlest method of
showing someone love and
promise and a future that
extends beyond the horizon.


January 15, 2003
1:50am




Your words
Make that room real, and
Place you there to be used
And abused
By your Goddess.


Your words
Draw me to watch the
Binding and opening of you
For there’s no mercy
From your Goddess.


Your words
Put me there,
Wide eyed, agape
The horror of feeling
Your humiliation
From your Goddess.


Your words
Bid me watch
A burning cigarette tip,
Ash dropped in your mouth,
Heat hits your tongue,
You swallow
For your Goddess.


Your words
Draw me to watch your cock
Tortured with the hot knife
Hard,
Anxious for the next move.
From your Goddess.


Memory of that flesh,
In my body,
An object of power,
Here exposed
To the pitiless gaze
Of your Goddess.


Anger rises in me,
Stop it!
You have chosen
I can't contradict.
Tears of frustration,
For your release,
By your Goddess.


November 1, 2002




Yesterday it snowed
That fitful dust
That does a poor job
Of smoothing out the world.
That's snow in Kentucky.


Out east they got two feet
I imagine their world is white
And smooth, pristine and clean
And views from their windows
See new surprising vistas.


When we woke up in Kentucky
We saw the world much
As we did yesterday;
Quiet, gray cool
Rumors of war of course.


Do we here in Kentucky
Ever change the world?
Yes.
We do by sending the ones
We love out to wars and for
Argument, bringing peace.


January 6, 2003




Do you question
the reason we push
against a moment
of quiet instead
of settling into it
as a gift.


I do.


The only time
I find myself
accepting a moment
is after it passes
when in amazement
I realize I have just
experienced one.


May 20, 2002




Letting go of someone you love
Is like tearing off
Pieces of your flesh
With the hope
Those wounds
Will heal.


Letting go of someone you love
Makes you think
There will never be
Another person you
Can love
Like him.


Letting go of someone you love
Gives you freedom
From thinking about
That someone
Every hour of the
Day and night.


Letting go of someone you love
Opens up the possible
The tomorrow
A open door, where
He tried to close one
To the new.


December 1, 2002






Make me a worry bead
Hooked to a chord
At the mercy
of your Fingers.


Smooth and warm
Heated by your skin
Caressed over and over
by your Fingers.


Lightly rest on your mind
While your thoughts fly away
I’m continually rubbed
by your Fingers.


Oh please make me your worry bead
Living in your pocket, near
Your body and the tips
of your Fingers.


January 1, 2003






On this evening I am thinking
Of your sitting in the plane seat
Reading or dozing or talking
To a nearby stranger.
As I do this I look at the time
Guessing where you are in the sky
From your telling me your schedule
For traveling today.


I’m having a good day, really.
No great fits of crying or hair pulling
Just quietly trying to find someone who
Will talk to me, that I don’t have to
Explain what I am feeling about
Your being farther and farther away
Every moment of this Long dark rainy,
New Year’s day.


Tomorrow I will think about you
All day as you’re nearing
Then arriving in that place
You love to go and
Being greeted by your future
Held as in those loving arms
I wish I could hold you
Even now, here.


January 1, 2003






Sunday, December 29, 2002


Every time I think about it
I cry
I am able to compartmentalize it
A little bit
But it always comes back to me
I can’t be your friend
It seems so impossible.


How can this be as easy as it seems
For you?
How can you do this and not feel
Regret?
I want to run down the hill screaming
“No, don’t go.”
But that is so foolish.


Being your friend has been like
Living
At the top of the world breathing
Rarified air.
Like sunshine and hope
Like love and learning
To me.


The thing I fear is you will need me
Some day.
Your arrogance thinks that’s not possible
After all you are the teacher and I the pupil.
How can a teacher need a pupil?
How can there be anything of value there,
Foolish man?


Remember me.


December 18, 2002






Will you remember me?


Will you see my face in your mind?


Will you remember my kiss?


Will you remember my flesh?


Will you remember my love?


I want you to say yes,
but
You are in such a rush to go
You’d think my questions
Were begging or demeaning.


December 17, 2002






Small gestures
That change the world
Are common.


It is the context
Of the gesture
That makes the impact.


Stopping war
In your own home


Stopping hunger
In your own neighborhood.


Doing the right thing when
Not acting is more comfortable.


Bringing joy
To the sad


Instilling hope
Where there seems none


These are the blessings
Of small gestures


November 18, 2002






Your mind has gone forward
Every day I try to
Pull you back
To remind you that you have
Friends and a past here.
Yet, every day,
Your mind goes forward.


You lust for the unknown
The out into the new
For this has always been
Your way, and not going
Forward makes you feel
You have gone backward.


I envy you that and
Recall in my mind that
The only time I lusted
For what was out there
Was when I was running
Away from hurt.


Could that be yours too?


December 17, 2002




There are such wondrous
Things in the world.
So many
You agreed with me
My heart felt it would burst
The breathless anticipation
Of the next bit of life
Living in the moment
With you and I.


This is difficult
For someone like me
Schooled in anticipating
The future and in
Remembering the past
Not seeing amazement
In the here and now, but
Looking always forward or
Behind.


Skill in this, in the moment
Realization’s not natural
To either you or I.
You anticipate the next
Time you step outside
The box. I look for a box
To step into. I seek the
Safety of closeness and you
Safety of open spaces.


November 22, 2002






At least when you feel pain,
You know you are living.


November 9, 2002




I was remembering
how in the beginning,
I wanted pain and found gentleness.
Here again over a year later,
begging you with my mind for pain.
I understand that our fucking is pain.
It is pain to me and from you.
It is your need to rut and
my need to be humiliated by you,
in all of this.
Is this sane?
Yes.
But it is also something that
forces me to weep and die
a little inside.
I have become used to the pain
and I crave more.


November 9, 2002






In water wet and hot,
And bubbles bursting
On the surface,
Four people sat and drank
Champagne and conversation
About the good and bad
Of life and politics.
Three were women
One a man
A gentle intelligent funny
Man who was a friend of
Long standing with some
And new to one.
Bodies touched by design
And accident and watching
Brought the blood to boil
And skin to blush, ah
Such a crush of flesh and heat.
A gesture meant for me? Please
Say it was for me,
I touched back breaking
That polite wall,
That took a year to build.
I am insane for drawing you
Into my body and holding
You there gently begging for
Violent pierce and cum.
Reminds me though that
One can never love someone
Crazier than they are, so I am
Safe in that, at least.


November 9, 2002






Your hand holding mine,
I could not say to you
the last time I felt safe
a man held my hand
so I could sleep.


Today, sleep is impossible here
for over a decade has passed
learning to sleep alone;
lovers are allowed but one of us
leaves well before dawn.


A blessing is all I ever want
to give or get in life
a gentle gesture of your touch
for you a whisper of my kiss.


October 28, 2002




A couple new poems.


1.
Old man is not as expected
A mind that’s never still
Boiling with ideas, and
Finely considered thought.


Out through rummy eyes
He sees the woman’s bright face
Turned toward him
Absorbing his fire.


Her smile is warm engaged
Focused on his words
His eyes twinkle then
Flirt with an emotion.


Old man’s passion living long
In days of young men’s pitty who
Do not see competition for
Women who hide their value
From callow youth.


October 10, 2002




2.
At The Sea of Gallalee


The day is waning.
Fishermen empty the nets
A fish caught in
Water like gold
In the setting sun.


Rising before the light
Pushing the two man boat
Into the mists of dawn
They start early
Dipping the net.


The hot sun turns the water
Into a mirrored surface
That intensifies the glare
Pulling on nets dropped
Into liquid metal.


Again and again they drop
The net with a wide
Fling of their powerful arms
Flat nets capture more
Of the watery surface.


Seeing this you realize the
Casting of the net is so familiar
They instinctively cast
And watch and pull in then
Cast again.


October 24, 2002




Five minutes of silence
Without direction
My mind drifted to
Lying with you in
Our comfortable bed
Clothed in cotton and
Touching your pale blue shirt
The scent of your body
Warming the clean cloth
Of your undershirt, and
Your buttoned shirt.
If I were to touch your flesh
I would kiss the small
Triangle of your thorax and
Upper chest, but I choose
To only kiss your cheek and
Slip the three last fingers of
My left land between the
Buttons of your still closed shirt
And lie still not speaking
Only breathing, deeply.


October 4, 2002






I know the craft store you mention Ken. I think you're referring to Garden Ridge. That place is like Sams was to Dennis. He could never go in there without buying $300 worth of "BIG" packages of things that we couldn’t use before they spoiled, so he ended up giving most away. Where was Kentucky Harvest when he was around?


Garden Ridge is like a fantasyland for people who really believe their homes can look like Martha Stewart's. I go in there and if I'm not careful I've bought $300 of things I don't need. I usually get lost in the candle department or the pillow department first. Rugs, silk plants, velvet pictures, gold-framed faux oil paintings abound. It's amazing. Scent everywhere too. You'd think you had landed magically into the source of all home scents. Anyway, it's somewhere I go when I'm REALLY REALLY depressed, after I've gone to Hawley Cooke or Target. SMILE


Tonight I can't sleep. I had reason to go out after dark and as luck would have it, had a little adventure. I wrote about it. Of course the details are veiled in many layers and meant to protect the guilty, me! I don't feel guilty, by the way. I never can seem to do anything that I end up feeling guilty about. That means I am either crazy or consider what I will do, too thoroughly. It's probably the later. I'm also lonely, hot, horny, restless, still have face pain from the sinuses the dentist must have awakened when she pulled that tooth, and can't seem to sleep.


My friend tells me I can’t use men for sex anymore, honorably, and the powers that rule society don’t let me, a woman, go to a massage parlor or some such place, and rent a man for a fair rate. The cat is so tired of me holding him; he's gone to hide behind the bookcases in he library.


The book I'm reading is one of those heavy, detailed, wordy Henry James rip offs, but with a hint of naughtiness: The Crimson Petal and the White by Michael Faber. Where is a fast paced Robert Parker when I need him? Oh yes, I've already read his latest Shrink Wrap this past Saturday.


Oh darn it all. I'm going to take a long hot shower and shave my legs!


October 1, 2002




Log into an an adventurous chat room and look for trouble? Hmmm...I don't think I've EVER done that. (veg)


There's a big craft store out near Blankenbaker lane that has all kinds of things. That's also where i saw some people placing greyhound dogs for adoption after they finished their racing days.


Kenneth 9/27/2002 09:38:40 AM




The rain has stopped and in the evenings these past few days, there is a tinge of what will soon be fall. Temperatures are from 47 to 60 after dark, and daytimes often get to 80 or more, but no longer to the 90s. Today when I went out the sky was that azure blue it seldom is. No smog or clouds; just bright sunshine and blue sky. I often think my eyes must be seeing what is usually there, more clearly, on a day like today.


I've been hold up at home for the weekend and today pretty much. I've had a toothache and since I seldom have any kind of pain, any pain is "terrible pain"! I tell my friends about it and they suggest I use their "drugs" or "go to the emergency room". I did neither, but today I went to the dentist and they yanked out the tooth. It was abscessed. Looking at the thing, you couldn't see anything wrong, but you could see it in the x-ray. Which they do x-rays differently now. They take them the same way the used to, with that lead apron lying across your body and the technician in the other room, behind what is surely a lead wall, but the x-ray is fed directly into a PC on the shelf by the chair and the patient can see what the doctor sees. I think that's very good. I like to be involved in everything. I also asked for the tooth, and now it resides in a small blue plastic box in my jewelry box. I go back Thursday to have the stitches removed.


Friday evening I went to a craft store in Middletown and purchased the embroidery floss for the picture I plan on doing for the fair next year. The kit had wool floss, but I don't care to do embroidery with wool. I need to check the state fair rules too; to be sure they allow cotton thread embroidery entries. I also bought some small stamped pieces and plan on doing those. I can't find the small embroidery pictures I had done previously, since I moved, and I have an idea of how to display them down a narrow piece of wood near the bathroom door in my bedroom. I really need to hand some pictures. I can't believe I haven't done it, but I was planning on getting the place painted and my painter friend, seems to be busy in the summer. He said he'd have some time in November, so I'm kind of waiting for that.


In any regard, it's late, and although I've taken the drugs I was supposed to, to knock back the pain, I'm having problems sleeping tonight. Maybe I'll go log into an adventurous chat room and look for some trouble.


September 23, 2002






It's a delightfully wet time in Rachel Land these days. Five hours (it seemed) of straight line driving rain on Sunday and a shower on Monday and then another about 5 p.m. on Tuesday, just as I was taking a cake out of my truck. It was in a box, so all was fine.


The cake was for the final taping of Good Authority, a locally produced TV show. I had the people at Heitzman's Cake Cafe, pipe on the words "Good-bye Good Authority, Come Again." Everyone thought that was fun and they ate the whole thing, which was good. A girlfriend of Bonnie McCafferty, one of the hosts, brought her a dozen long stemmed red roses. They were georgeous. Bonnie gave the women in the audience each, one of the roses. That was so nice. I'm going to dry and keep mine.


The whole afternoon was delightful. Everyone was in high spirits and I took some more pictures. I'm going to send them to the people on my little GA list, but will wait and do that from my new computer, as my office box had a pesky boot virus. The funniest subject of discussion was the new city ordinance to restrict the crowing of roosters here. One of the audience members pointed out that more of us had been awakened by dogs barking than roosters crowing in our life, but nothing was as terrible as her having had to listen to peacocks mate on a visit she had made to Scotland some time ago. Bob Hill, who lives near peacocks agreed. Makes me want to send off to some nature conservancy, or maybe stalk on over to Utica Indiana periodically to find those mating peacocks.


This reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend, once. We'll call him Bill. Bill is a Funeral Director, you know those people we used to call Undertakers? He had a client who took that non-return trip we all will some day take. She was a twice married woman. Her maiden name was Hicock. She married a man named Peacock. He died. She then married a man named Hecock. What was interesting about this line of names is she also had a sister who of course was originally Hicock, who had married only once, and his name was Hancock. Bill remarked that he'd never met a family so devoid of men, yet which had so many cocks in it. I hope you readers are laughing. It sure was funny at it's original telling.


Oh dear, it's almost 4 p.m. now, and it's clouding up. I'm mentally pretending i'm in the tropics. Every afternoon about teatime, it rains!


September 18, 2002






Yes, Hillerman writes the series featuring navaho tribal police. The Blessing Way was his first book, is a very good introduction to the series.


Meeting new people is always a good idea. Everyone has a story.
Kenneth 9/10/2002 12:08:20 PM




Is the author of Hunting Badger by Tony Hillerman? I've never read his books. Maybe I should.


I'm reading a book by Faye Kellerman now, False Prophet. It was written in 1999, and I had read her most recent one, so looked into the out of print issues. Amazingly, the BN website searched and found several in hard cover for about $5 each and with their free shipping, that was a bargain!


I met two new people at brunch Sunday: Mary = MWolf7066 (an accountant) and Ellen = Blueyes45 (a programmer). Nice women. Near my age. They had been "mysteriously" receiving my newsletter and showed up at brunch to meet this woman Rachel. OK, I'm only chuckling. I'm not sure this brunch thing is going to work either. All the people who used to come to breakfast on Sunday are otherwise engaged. Maybe I need to make the acquaintence of new people?


September 9, 2002




Isn't it odd that the crazy right wing shows never have a problem finding funding?


The security suggestions sound very good to me. You should have some remote device that allows you to move from car to door without having to dig for keys.


I read Hunting Badger (think that was the title) on the flight out. Nice read. It's another of the novels featuring Navaho tribal police.


September 9, 2002






The week has been very quiet here in Rachel Land. Reading, thinking, a little writing, and playing Gin until I think, "Why aren't I better at this game?" In card games I've never felt very competitive. It seems to be a question of why be competitive about something so unimportant? Competitiveness should be about important things, not a game in virtual space with a stranger.


The new book by Tom Clancey, "Red Rabbit" was very good. I made notes about lots of Russian and French words and phrases, and looked them all up. Now I'm reading a book written in 1933 by Irmgord Keun, and translated from the German recently, entitled "The Artificial Silk Girl". The supposed pretext is a young woman living in pre-war Germany, and her view of how things are then, before the Nazis took over. The story reminds me of a story about almost any young woman of limited means and no education, using her natural appeal to make her way alone in the world. The thing you have to wonder, when witnessing this scenario, is how can anyone build a life on that thin veneer. Age removes appeal in this society and if all you have is your physical beauty, what will you settle for to feel safe?


Tuesday evening I attended the taping of a local television show, "Good Authority". There were more in attendance than I had ever seen there before. For that reason, the evening was more interesting. I took some photographs and sent them off to those who gave me their e.mail addresses. Of the 5 addresses, 2 bounced back. It's funny how often people get their e.mail addresses wrong. Last night, Thursday, I listened to the program on television. It's a good show. On Wednesday I wrote letters to the local papers in an effort to illustrate the merits of keeping the program in production, after the next 2 weeks. Their University of Louisville grant runs out then. I spoke to someone who is familiar with the U of L community and he said one of the problems was that production costs were higher since they used the media department of the university in production. I can't imagine it being less expensive if it were produced by another television station.


Last Saturday evening I spoke to a security expert, i.e. someone whose business is executive security. I explained the ongoing problem of staying safe with Bob lurking about tormenting me. He suggested a remote controlled lock. There would be no key face. It could only be opened with the control device and would have battery back up, if the electricity were interrupted. The cost is about $100, which means it's probably about $500 after installation, etc. Another friend suggests I have the lock put on the warehouse also. He's storing automobiles in the warehouse, and this is he reasoning for that. He will have to pay for that one himself.


Yesterday about 6p.m. I received a phone call from the choir director at Saint Agnes. The rehearsal is on Thursday nights at 7p.m. and I am invited to join them. I will do that next Thursday.


I saw Les' screen name wink on the other evening and sent him an e.mail at work telling him. He assumes the name has been taken over by someone new, as he's not bee on AOL for over two years. He asked me for a story, so I sent him the one I submitted to Snitch for their contest in August. He said the story was better written than what I used to do two years ago. He always did encourage my writing. He suggested I write another story from the stalker's viewpoint. Last evening, I started writing it.


This day is a beautiful sunny, cool here. Predictions are for 90+ degree weather tomorrow. I'm to drive up to Columbus for my monthly hair cut. I'll have to re-schedule a photographic shoot. Maybe Sunday afternoon will work. I forgot about the hair cut when discussing the shoot on Tuesday evening.


What are my goals these days?
More living.
More loving.
More learning.
More writing.


September 6, 2002






The day you leave is approaching
Anticipation
Excitement
Joy
Soon you will be back in the
Beloved womb
Of Israel.


There’s never been a place like that for me.
Reflect
Dream
Imagine
Yet all I see is backwards
The soft twilight
Of memory.


People change
Yet are the same
In that who we are
Is constructed of
What we’ve experienced
In a constant state of
Flux.


Seeing those reunion children
Who never left the county,
Or if they did, came back
To find their contentment,
Don’t seem to have grown
Infinite horizons as those
Who left did.


Some who leave go half way around the world
While some less than a hundred miles
It is the leaving that expands us
The knowing we can leave and thrive
Everyone designs their contentment
Some in a nest and some in a
War.


August 27, 2002






Thursday, August 29, 2002


Brutality in words, if subtle
Only hurt the aware.
The blessedly foggy are
Shrouded in soft rounded
Edges of guile and numbness.


Does the brute know he
Is being brutish, or is
He merely being himself
And reacting to what he
Believes is his right to defend
Himself against what will
Make him feel something.


Oh that I being strong and able
To take all the pain of those giving it
Could take your hurt and keep you
From feeling what you do not think
You can feel, so that you would not
Strike out in defense at she who
Loves you, me.


July 13, 2002






Crown Vics are the police vehicles of choice. Maybe the lady is a police wannabe and bought it at auction. Nice rain last night.


I found the scrabble board online and have played a few games. My rating remains around 1200.


Kenneth 8/27/2002 10:39:32 AM




Thursday, August 22, 2002


Thanks for the reminder Linda. I love Scrabble.


It's interesting how days evolves. Today was busy with lots of work, so I didn't have time to goof off. I worked in my office alone listening to the radio and keeping an eye on e.mail and such. This was a typical day for me at work. After work, however, I had to run some errands, i.e. mail a return computer part, go to the post office and buy some LAN cable. While at Radio Shack, the UPS driver who was there to pick up their packages, came over and said, "Didn't you used to have a business over on Chenoweth Lane?" I replied that I did, but it was closed now. He told me he had been our UPS pick up guy while my husband was still living. I reminded him that was almost 11 years since he died. He said, "I remember Dennis. He was the greatest guy!"


It's probably been a couple of years since someone mentioned Dennis to me, in that way. It happened a lot right after he died, but there have been a lot of changes in my life since then, and the circle of people I associate with is different these days. Most of those people didn't know Dennis. This just proves how someone's influence can endure as long as the memory of those they knew do. SMILE


There was a lot of traffic on the way back home. Between the hours of 4 and 6 is probably not a good time to run errands. There was a time when I spent a couple of hours every day on the road running errands, picking up work, going to printers and the post office. These days with me living in the same building I work in, there are many days that I don't even get my car out. I really enjoy getting out and doing things. That's something I need to work on changing.


Following a car out Bardstown Road from the Watterson Expressway, I found myself behind a dark blue Crown Victoria. I would say it was a 1996 or 1997 model. There was a young light haired woman with a ponytail driving. In the back window well was a cap with the words and emblem of the FOP. There was a set of metal handcuffs hanging from the windshield mirror. I noticed the back bumper was cracked and the trunk dented slightly and this damage wasn't recent. The car's plates were from Bullitt County. I concluded this was not a police woman. She seemed to have the mindset that Bob did. He would have shirt badges from the Rangers or a cap from the CIA. He loved to slow off the trappings of law enforcement or military. My conclusion is if someone really is the police or military or CIA, they are unlikely to display it so casually. The whole thing just reminded me and made me chuckle.


That's all I have to say for now. I hope those of you who read this site will comment.


Rachel 8/22/2002 06:06:46 PM




If you really enjoy the game of scrabble .. then go to playsite.com and have some fun .
there are 2 word games there that I play ..
keep smiling


Linda 8/22/2002 05:40:50 PM






Hi, I have been organizing things for my planned trip to Israel the past few days. I also have to cut the grass today...busy, busy.


Kenneth 8/22/2002 02:47:33 PM




Monday, April 09, 2001


This is Monday.


Mondays are famous for being the beginning of something, a week, a life.


I've been away from the blog for several weeks now. In the interium I've had another birthday and witnessed that incessent mark of time. Several friends joined me in celebration at the hot tub. That was very nice and superior to the manner in which I've marked my birthday in previous years.


Spring has arrived in Kentucky. In fact, it's almost as if summer has arrived. This is the 5th day of temperatures over 80 degrees and it's only the 2nd week of April.


I went home from shopping Saturday by way of the park and the lanes and roads were full of shirtless men and boys and shorts clad women, walking, riding, rollar blading, pet walking. On the grass were blankets on which people lay gazing at the sky, in wonder. Spring, such a reward for the endurance of the cold.




Rachel 4/9/2001 07:33:14 PM




Thursday, March 15, 2001


Thanks for the question Rachel. My life is incredibly different. There were so many unanswered questions and topics that I wanted to discuss and did not have a forum for in my life. Over the last 3 years I have sought out people who also like to discuss some off the wall things and have expanded my horizons. And become more open and comfortable about life in general. Met some really nice people and found out a lot about myself. I enjoy the access to information that answers a lot of questions I've had about the big world around me.
Linda 3/15/2001 06:45:48 PM




Wednesday, March 14, 2001


This is Wednesday.


Wednesdays are good days in the week, for at this apex of our work week, we know that all we have to do is work today and then 2 more days, before a 2 day rest. When thinking of the hill and valley of a week, I am generally more content during the work days. There is nothing expected from a work day other than what it takes to get to work, do the work, and survive the work to rest until the next day when we must repeat that process. On Thursdays and Fridays, we are looking forward to something. This may be no greater thing than a variation in the routine. Instead of getting out of bed at 7, we can sleep til 9. Or instead of eating that sack lunch, you may get to go to a restaurant with a friend. Unfortunately, for me, Saturday is the day that everything I couldn't do during the work week, gets done, if it gets done at all.


Saturday is when I get my hair cut, colored, my toenails done, my eyebrows plucked. Saturday is when I take Bessy and Smoke to the vet to get shots or check ups or wash and sets. Saturday is when I go to the grocery, the clothing store, the drug store, or get the tires rotated. Saturday is when I go to movies or the library or spend time figuring out some new computer program. Saturday is when I flirt more, on line!


I seldom go out on a date on Saturday. Odd, huh? Well there are reasons for everything!
Rachel 3/14/2001 04:53:08 PM




Tuesday, March 13, 2001


This is Tuesday.


I finished reading the book, "From the Corner of His Eye" by Dean Koontz, last night after I got home. This was one of DK's best books. Often he seems to have gotten lost in writing about a character, but in this one, the caracterizations are very rich and detailed and no matter how obscure they seem to the story, they are tied back to the plot lines. I wonder who his editor is. I would bet the editor is a new one for him, for the entire book was so much more focused.


Stephen King says, in is recent book "On Writing", that we learn to write by reading. I think he is right. Although I often feel compelled to "write something out," to get it off my mind, I enjoy the entertainmet value of other authors almost so much that I don't want to write anything new. I want to read something already written, and loose myself in it. There is no end to my admiration of people who can create a deadline and write a measured portion of a project every day or week or month. The only goal that prompts me to write, is having experienced something and feeling compelled to communicate it with others.


I'm at work now, listening to a line printer spew out page after page of a postal mail entry document. A quarter of a million addresses and a foot of paper! After I got it printing, my boss Mike told me it wasn't needed for 3 weeks. Nothing like feeling you are not accomplishing something. I have no problem with doing work in advance, in fact that helps me feel I have stored some acorns in the cupboard for the winter, so to speak. I understand where Mike is coming from though, as all people involved in a project here feel they can completely change it as long as it hasn't been imaged. With 3 weeks to image date, the opportunity for someone to tweak it and make the paperwork I am printing, superfulous, is at least 90%.


I'm beginning to read Thomas Lynch's new book this evening. It will be a joy. He always writes the way I seem to think. I wonder how he can do that. I have to say, however, since Bill said he acts like a jerk, my reading is not as enjoyable. He had the opportunity to actually meet the man at a convention a couple of years ago, where he was signing his first book.


Well all for this day. Adieu.








Rachel 3/13/2001 05:07:12 PM




Monday, March 12, 2001


This is Monday.


Sunday evening at 5, some of the Louisville Chat Rooms' roomies met at Shogun's restaurant for dinner. This Sunday evening dinner has been going on now for the 3rd week. Every week a different place is suggested.


The people who attended besides me, were:


Akutiki = Debbie 1 of the hostesses
Wateve4 = Bev 1 of the hostesses
TPlemm6992 = Tom
Neal1962 = Neal and his son Andrew
Lukester68 = Luke
Rosco54 = John
Bittwiced = Carol
Robyn36 = Robyn
GGootee816 = Candy


Others whose screen names I don't seem to have on my list were: another Debbie, Anthony, Scott, Vickie.


We had a very good "chef" and Robyn was the object of his fun, which she deserved as she was commenting on things he was doing and doing a "wise ass" routine. It made the cooking and thus the entertainment only that much better. We all ate plenty! Sitting around 2 of the cook tops in a room with a total of 4 cook tops, made it very warm. Well either it was the cook tops or I was having hot flashes. Either could be correct!


As I was leaving, I heard some mention meeting at Dairy Queen for ice cream!!!!!!!!!!!! I got out of there fast for fear of being further tempted.


Work today started early at 9, and I will get off my 2nd job at 11pm. I can't wait!


I get to sleep late on Tuesday, so I am looking forward to that.


Look in the newsletter this week for an announcement of where we are meeting for dinner next Sunday. As of now it will be Texas Road house on the Outer Loop, at 5pm. Be sure to let Debbie & Bev know if you plan on attending.


Rachel 3/12/2001 08:05:37 PM




Friday, March 09, 2001


Welcome all you lovely people.


For any of you who do not know me or know about my newsletter, let me just say: Since the fall of 1997 I have published an occasional newsletter via e.mail to approximately 4000 people local to Louisvlle Kentucky. The newsletter is of an erotic nature. It contains jokes, links, cartoons, quotes, poetry and stories. It is published under the AOL TOS rules, so it isn't pornographic. Some of the links will take you places you may not have known you would go, but it is your decision to click on a link! I do not recommend it for anyone not an adult.


Most of of you were at one time regular chatters in AOL chat rooms Town Square Louisville Over 30 & Louisville FUNovr 40. Now the roomies have moved on to Louisvlle Conference room as it will allow almost 50 chatters. From casual conversation with you, it seems that about 90% of you live in the local metropolidan Louisville, Ky area. One thing to note here, however, is no matter how much I try, I can't keep some of you from leaving Louisville, so now you may be anywhere in the world and not always on AOL.


If you would like to receive a copy of the newsletter, send me an e.mail at this address: RcaAhHa@aol.com. On the subject line you MUST say: SUBSCRIBE. After you see it, if you want to continue receiving it, do nothing, it will continue to find you. However, if you thoughtlessly think it's not your style, send another e.mail with the work REMOVE on the subject line. Remember, if you change you e.mail address, you will need to let me know or you will drop off the list. You change address with this note on the subject line: CHANGE ADDRESS.


Now that was simple wasn't it? SMILE


To start off the discussion here, let me toss out a question.


Has the internet improved or harmed your life? If so, how?
Rachel 3/9/2001 09:29:27 PM A place to post: Poems. Letters. Stories, and Other small things.
Rachel's Newsletter 6:15 PM