gardentuber

Was it really a supernatural visitation?

Monday morning on the South Fork of the Boise River and Rence and I were finally alone together (if that makes any sense). He stood knee deep in the cold, quiet water. I was up to my thighs downstream of him. We, the both of us, were working out the kinks in our casts, barely having begun our day of fishing. While I'm not bad at the motion of casting, I'm not remarkable by any stretch. Maybe it's a lack of talent; maybe it's a lack of practice. Rence appeared to either have a natur

“Babe, I need to shower first. Gimme fifteen. Actually, we can’t leave Butch in the room. I can shower first and head down to pick up some food while you shower; then we can have a leisurely breakfast here in the room.” “I’d love to, but today’s not gonna be a day of leisure for me. I’ve got a series of meetings scheduled in the AM and one for the PM. Remember when I mentioned it being a working weekend promoting our sheep products? It’s not gonna take much time after today. You gonna be alri

I like my music. I pride myself on the diversity of my tunes. They’re enjoyable and intriguing, to me at least. There are songs in my collection, however, that scare me. I love them and I fear them. Or rather, I love them and I fear the state of mind they elicit. I’m thinking: Kate and Anna McGarrigle, Rosalie Sorrels, Bonnie Raitt. Funny, I look at that list and realize… all women, all singer/songwriters, all sing about regret. I suppose I should spend some time with a therapist explori

It was as I was settling into the guestroom at my friend, Gary’s, house that I realized that I was lost. Only then did I realize that I was crushing on Rence. My first thought following the realization was, ‘I’m far too old to be feeling all warm and squishy!’ My second was, ‘This feels good!’ I had been unpacking my suitcases, putting things away in my home away from home in LA. Butch had been underfoot as I crossed between the bed (my suitcases) and the dresser or closet. Only whe

What a horrible, tumultuous, baleful day. Thank god it was over. But what a sweet ending! I shifted my thoughts from the horrific events of the day to more pleasant imagery: the beauty of the landscape surrounding the ranch, the thought of spending time with Rence in this rural retreat, the idea of joining my future to his: sharing his home, his ranch, his body. I got carried away on that vein of thought: loving his body, licking his body, nibbling his nipples; running my fingers down

I woke with a start after hearing a thud and muffled “Shit” from down the hall followed eventually by the sound of a guy peeing in the toilet. My neck was stiff from sleeping sitting up. My arm was numb where Rence was slouched against my side. He started and sat up suddenly, looked around, uncertain of his bearings. He directed a “Mmph!” at me and then lurched towards the wood stove. He fiddled a bit, opened the door and threw in a couple logs and then fiddled some more. When done, he rea

Ugh! Driving once again! I was headed north again on Interstate 25 again, in Colorado again, heading to Wyoming again. Only, this time, I was driving a strange sedan, some small Chrysler byproduct that didn’t seem well suited for the conditions I was certain I’d be encountering in Wyoming. It had plenty of power, but I wasn’t confident it wouldn’t be overpowered in the slick, icy dirt roads in the wilds of Sweetwater County, where I was headed. Or, maybe I was just a car snob and cou

I knelt on the bedroom floor, sorting my dirty laundry. I don’t know why, but Butch takes this as an invitation to play. Maybe it’s being on his level. He began by knocking me sideways with a hit from his hindquarters, then he threatened me with a facial lick. He lay down and pawed me, then rolled on his back and demanded a belly rub. While rubbing his belly, I looked at his happy dog smile, mostly big teeth. It’s remarkable how coy his toothy grin could be, well, threatening and endearing and c

“Look at that! There must be 8, 9 inches on the railing. Are you going to be OK driving? You could wait another day, you know.” “Ally, I should be fine. I’ve got all wheel drive and studded snow tires I bought just for these trips. I’ve got chains, a shovel and sand if I skid off the road and a sleeping bag if something goes wrong. So far, I’ve never had trouble I couldn’t get out of. The most difficult driving will probably be getting to the bottom of the driveway.” “Alright. If you say s

I slowed carefully before taking the exit ramp off I-80 down towards “Cody’s” gas station. I took it slower than the previous time. I had to. The winter storm that had dumped snow from Seattle to St Louis and that was now shutting down the Atlantic states, the storm that had closed Snoqualmie Pass and had forced me to postpone leaving home for 24 hours, had left the ramp deep in new powder. I crept through the crud so I could refuel at Cody’s station and try to resolve my curiosity about the

Back on the road again, behind the wheel of my little white Subie, making time on clear roads as I left Boulder and headed north on I-25 towards Cheyenne. Butch was in the back and was quiescent for the time being. The radio shared the news of the day: wars in the middle east, political maneuvering in the various centers of power, degradation of the environment in the cities and the countryside throughout the planet. I listened with half an ear while reviewing the past week’s events within th

“Cuantas cosas quedaron prendidas, hasta dentro del fondo del alma? Cuantos luces dejaste encendidas? Yo no se como voi apagarlas.” The sympathetic, melodic guitar contrasted the tragic lyrics torn from Chavela Vargas’ aged vocal cords. My sobs echoed her cries. I’m afraid I’ve never been able to simply shed tears. I’ve wailed, sobbed and keened but I’ve never simply cried. I reached for the CD player’s controls, realizing that her songs were not the best for me to be

Karl has something new to think about after a chance encounter while driving across southern Wyoming.

Gayle settled into bed. He struck a match and lit the candle on the nightstand to remember Jim, his deceased partner. It was early, but after trying days at work, well, he found he was spending more and more time in bed. He picked up his book and opened to where he’d left off that morning before he left for work. He settled in further and began to read. Dauphin, his cat, jumped up on the bed, padded on and then snuggled into his lap and began a rumble in expectation of a rub behind the ears.

Yup, got a little teary and smiled a lot. Thanks for sharing it with us!

Genre: Informal Female = 10413 Male = 10050 Difference = -363; 49.11% Verdict: Weak FEMALE Weak emphasis could indicate European. Genre: Formal Female = 7361 Male = 6552 Difference = -809; 47.09% Verdict: Weak FEMALE Weak emphasis could indicate European. Elsewhere: "While Gender Guesser may be 60% - 70% accurate, it is not 100% accurate. This is better than random guessing (50%), but should not be interpreted as "fact". In particular, men should not be offended if it says you write like a girl." OK... I hate this thing! It says I write like a girl! A girl!!! Then there's this thing: Gender Genie BTW... I hate this thing too (it's another version of the same algorithm)! It says I write like a girl, too!!!! Girls! I hate girls!!!

Interesting... or not! I uploaded around 175 words, four separate excerpts and was analyzed as three different writers. If I uploaded dialog, I was Kurt Vonnegut (2 times). If I uploaded description, I was Steven King. If I uploaded a mix, I was Dan Brown. Who's Dan Brown? edit: Dan Brown -- oh, him -- never mind--

Hmmm. It's like the word 'gay'... keeps changing its meaning. I've encountered the term in British stories set in a certain time period... 60's and 70's, I think. Maybe Aussie too. It's always a dismissive term or an insult, never simply descriptive. In fact, it does not describe actual behavior; nobody's actually lifting a shirt hem. I like reading stories from other anglophone cultures. It broadens my perspective and vocabulary. We really are everywhere! (for the youths out there... back in the day, 'We Are Everywhere' was a gay rights slogan, an attempt to broaden society's definition of homosexuals beyond hairdressers and interior decorators named Bruce. Oh, never mind...)

That's kinda how I figured it. So it must be an old term, then. Dontcha love words and language and the window they offer on history and culture!

Oh, y'all...

OK... I know what a shirt lifter is, but what's the derivation? In reading stories by commonwealth folks, I've encountered the term, but nowhere is there a reason for the term. Why lift a shirt? Is it to show off a chest or abdomen? Is it to show off an ass? What's the point of lifting a shirt and why is it a pejorative for male homosexuals? Just idle curiosity...

Oh golly! Ummm.... just to be clear, the author is some guy in NYC, not me. Just to be clear! I posted the link because I like the story and because I like the idea of 600 word stories and because I like the idea of a national (and international competition) open to anybody and everybody. Just to be clear.

I posted this to the Story Cafe part of this site, but after several hours, only one other person had viewed it. Seems no one checks that forum. SO> NPR's 3 minute fiction (600 words or less) > the current winning story has a gay theme. It's a wonderful story. Check it out! Not Calling Attention to Ourselves It's a trip to read such well crafted prose! Like I said, Check it out!

There are foods I've heard of that don't interest me (haggis being one). The two I've tried that made me retch were: uni (sea urchin roe) and gefilte fish. I've even eaten chapulines (Oaxacan fried grasshoppers) and enjoyed them but uni and gefilte fish, ugh! :wacko: Used to be... hard boiled eggs turned my stomach, the sulfur I think. Now, I can eat 'em.