Help Me


  
I need your help.

I make about $560 a month through SSDI. I can’t get a regular job because I smoke weed, which saves me at least $200/month in medication costs and helps with my dance disposition. I live in my ex-husband’s house for free with my kids, but believe me, I pay for that in other ways.

I DONT WANT YOUR MONEY!

I want you to help me with ideas for how to make money. I dance around town, have ad space available, which can go freely in and out of stores or anything. People consistently tell me they see me everywhere, my ad space is valuable, but so far no one has taken advantage of that fact, by paying me to wear their brand name or drink their soda in public or whatever.

I could be a very useful marketing tool, and that’s what I want to get paid for. 

Now, there will be critics who say the companies that sponser me are exploiting my disability. I want to say very clearly right now that:

I AM ALREADY EXPLOITING MY DISABILITY!

I’m a cripple. Before the acceptance and recognition of the beauty of it, people stared at or avoided me or seemed to feel sorry for me because I’m in a wheelchair. Now people definitely stare, but it is not out of pity.  I love it, and want people to stare and smile and laugh and talk to me.

When I actually accepted all of this, I recognized the privileges of being who I am. 

I am fortunate to be able to change the world by being myself, just sitting in a chair and dancing and making people smile. It is an honor.

I am taking advantage of my position by dancing around town with positive signs on my chair and making people smile.

Unfortunately that part doesn’t pay the bills.

I need help to get some form of either sponsorship, or advertising revenue, or something. 

If you see me somewhere dancing, please help by dancing. I’ve started giving my cards to construction workers and mail people and asking them and everyone else to dance when they see me dancing; but soon I will have to make money while doing this, or I’m going to have to stop.

Shh…


  

I know you’re scared,

You don’t know what to think.

What to do.

I don’t either.

I do know it will be okay.

You are strong. 

The only thing that is real

Is now.

This moment where we are traveling through cyberspace.

Meeting eachother. 

Right here.

Right now.

I’ve traveled the dimensions of time and space.

To meet you.

To hug you in a weird way

And to tell you 

It will be okay.

Richard Thomas Exclusive!


There is no past. My heart was ripped from me in a rush of flashing lights and sticky yellow tape. There is no future. Vision would require hope, and that stealthy whore eludes me at every turn. So I float in the ether, pasty skin crawling with regret, eyes gouged out by my own shaking hands.

Richard Thomas, author, editor, and friend who is legally obligated not to sue me if I run his foot over with my wheelchair, chose the lines above from his book for you, my readers.

This book is going to be good. Buy it here:

download

If you have the audacity to not take my word for it, read reviews here:

The Horror Bookshelf, Entropy, Crime Fiction Lover, Matt Pucci, Splatterhouse 5. I have more links if you still aren’t convinced.

If I were you, right after I bought the book, I’d go to the following link and follow Richard’s blog: 

http://whatdoesnotkillme.com/2015/05/26/disintegration/

Just Stop


  

Stop playing me.

Stop using me.

Stop toying with me. 

Stop taking advantage of me.

Stop hurting me.

Stop destroying me and then reviving me so you can destroy me again.

I’m so tired of it.

Tired of hoping.

Tired of caring.

Tired of thinking.

Tired of you. 

So stop. Go away or come back so I can pretend I don’t want you to leave. 

Maybe I don’t.

Maybe all I want is for you to stop.

Sisters 


  

Keep your voice down!

I don’t think she heard us.

You better hope not, or we’re in big trouble.

She wouldn’t tell.

Yes she would! She always tells.

Even if she did tell, we haven’t done anything yet.

She’ll wait until we do, and then tell.

Maybe we should let her in on it.

She won’t do it, she’s too scared.

Yeah, but maybe she will keep from telling if she thinks she’s in on it.

It doesn’t matter if she’s in on it or not. She always tells.

Ok, fine. So when are we going to do it?

Girls, come down here this instant!

Told you she’d tell…

Bound by you


  

I’m captured by you.

Bound by you.

Tortured by you.

Turned on by you.

Thrilled by you.

Hurt by you.

Consumed by you.

You make me laugh.

You make me cry.

You sicken me.

You control me.

I can’t put you down.

I can’t escape you.

I can’t erase you.

I am yours.

This second, this minute, this hour.

Until I turn the last page.

I am your reader.

Slipping away


slipping_away_by_hlifar-d3ezzra

I can almost feel it; my sanity.

It’s something I can touch, but only briefly, and even then quite I can’t grasp it. I don’t know exactly when I began to lose my mind, but it is more gone then here now.

I’m Becky. That crazy girl in a wheelchair who rides around town dancing.

I made a sign for the front of my chair that says “will someone please buy me a louder speaker?”

Think that’s too forward? I went around a busy intersection in town, and danced with that sign, and my others, about 7 times just circling around the intersection.

I do believe I’ve lost my mind.

Who am I? Part of me can see reality, that I am a mother, with a physical disease, who is also bipolar.

Part of me reads what is on my signs, and the million other quotes I look at. That part believes it’s true, that you do need to be the change you wish to see in the world – Ghandi, That life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all – Helen Keller. That no great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness – Aristotle, etc.

So I live it, I want to see people dance, so I dance. I love adventures, so I dare to do things differently. Maybe madness isn’t something to run away from.

I feel like I’m in the middle of two realities.

#1st reality – I’m a single mother with a disease, I need to provide for and take care of my kids, the house, dogs, etc. I really need a job and money.

2nd reality – I am seriously trying to change the world. To get people outside, to get people to dance, to start recognizing the value we each can and do bring to the table, whether an ordinary writer, or an artist who happens to be in a chair with wheels, or an ordinary guy who notices and helps the crippled girl stuck somewhere. Heroes are all around and even inside of us.

But this particularly insane hero is stuck. In between the two worlds. I have to find a way to make money. If you have any ideas how I could do that, while dancing like a fool, please tell me. I shouldn’t have to turn my back on changing the world to make change at some store where I could fit as a cashier with my wheelchair. Please help me figure out how to bridge the gap.

Understanding Porn


Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

The Dark Side

My favorite porn, so that means word porn of course. So, I looked up the definition of porn and it doesn't really fit the type of porn I am talking about, so here is what I am going to define word porn as:

Word porn:

Written words that stimulate and/or arouse the mind. Most often this arousal leads readers to seek out this particular type of stimulation repeatedly.

Word porn addict:

Derives a deep satisfaction from certain combinations of letters, words, sentences, etc.

Word porn star:

Authors of the written content (word porn) which provokes an intense emotional response in the reader.

Word porn terms:

Words which are capable of standing alone in their ability to influence the reader (sensual, eerily, inspire, etc.)

I felt the need to elaborate on this a little because I am planning on creating a category for blogs, posts, words, etc. that fit into the…

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