Playing With Love

This is it, my secret clubhouse! Now you’ll know the whole of me…!

Copyright-Dawn Q. Landau

Copyright-Dawn Q. Landau

This?

Yes, this!

Seems a bit worn down. Useless.

Well, I’m not certain about that, and it IS mine.

All yours?

All mine!

I think I’ll take it. Yeah, I want it. It’s mine.

But I was only sharing. I wasn’t actually offering…

I don’t care about that. I want it. I own it now.

But… I loved it.

You shoulda kept it secret then. Like I did all my loves.

But I already gave you everything…

Yeah, well you’ll think better next time now, won’t ya?

•••

As the above may (in my usual convoluted and overly dramatic fashion) indicate, this will be my last foray into the Friday Fictioneers clubhouse.

I would really like to thank Rochelle and the rest of my fellow Fictioneers for the support and sense of family that you’ve provided me with while we’ve been together.

I’ll miss you – God Speed.

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Trifecta 99: Trifecta 1st attempt

Bacall would’ve been proud, Gabriella thought, while wiping the make-up muddled blood from her lip.

Hell, Gabriella was proud, but not because she’d gone down swinging; and definitely not because they decided to kick the “fag outta him,” in the first.

No, she was proud because with every return blow dealt, she felt her conviction rising – her belief in her true nature, becoming real.

She knew now who she was. She believed in whom that person would someday be.

As Gabe gazed into the mirror, Gabriella smirked back at him, filled with newfound life.

Yeah… Bacall would’ve been proud.

•••

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This is my unintended return to the land of Blogsville, and my first-ever attempt at banging out a couple of words (99 to be exact) for kids over at the Trifecta Writing Challenge. Having no intention of doing so, when I saw that the word “Bacall” was available for use as a prompt, I decided to finally swallow my fears and jump onboard with the continuation of my little tale of GabriellaHaving a shot at the $99 Gift Card didn’t hurt either, but this blog is ALL ABOUT THE ART, people…!

I hope you click through the Gabriella link to read the previous installment, I hope you join in the challenge yourselves, and as always, I do hope you enjoy.

Briefly…

Listen, it’s my fault.

I mean, I chose the damned song, now didn’t I?

Regardless, I stand by my choice. There are about a bazillion and one different directions you could take, what with The Clash’s “Car Jamming” as your song prompt. It’s a beat-full, lyrically rich track to play off of, but I still found myself totally surprised that I ended up where I eventually did on this one.

Below is this week’s 100 Word Song. Hope you enjoy, and please, play along!

robot-badge

He realized that any signs of kindness would be merely accidental.

Wondering why they were so constantly and brutally mean, he carefully dabbed a stubborn tear away, smudging smoky eyeliner in the process. Rifling the tissue to the desktop, he muttered “Dammit!” while inspecting the mishap.

It wasn’t enough that he was abused for being true to himself, he now looked like a weepy rank amateur to boot.

Lauren Bacall wouldn’t have let them get her down. Nana said he resembled her when he was dressed “that way,” maybe it was time that he started acting like her as well.

•••

This week’s song was chosen by Lance’s brother from another mother: “Car Jamming” by The Only Band That Matters.

Spreading the cure…

I’m uncertain as to how many untold thousands, if not millions, have been spent on spreading the disease.

The disease of making us feel that, to be anything other than “exactly like everyone else” is somehow wrong. The disease of being suckered into the ideology that having physical strength, cash on-hand, good looks or even simple charisma, makes you somehow more valued – better – than others. The disease that mandates that in order for you to feel good about yourself, you must first make another feel bad about who they are. The God-damnable disease that has us believing that Life is merely some sort of popularity contest, and nothing more.

I’m uncertain as to how many dollars have been spent in the pursuit of honoring these archaic and regressive beliefs, but I am certain as to how much it costs to help in spreading the cure.

Just $25.00.

Click for more info

Click for more info

You see, for $25.00 you can have a copy of “It Gets Better” sent to the school or local library of your choice (or they can pick one for you, should you have no preference). Aimed primarily at LGBT youth, and begun initially as a response to turn the tide on gay youth suicides that resulted from oppressive bullying, this book is a gathering of great minds, all of whom simply want to express to teens everywhere that life does, in fact, get better. My son received a copy this past Christmas, and I believe that it has helped him to understand that it’s OK to simply be yourself. And that it’s also OK to let the bullies angrily shake the ignorant cages of their own construct; as long as you don’t willingly join them in their prisons yourself.

True, a donation of this nature may be seen by some as a small step. But I feel it’s a step in the right direction. And to one who’s maybe never taken a step at all in this matter, it could prove to be a giant leap, for either themselves or for some fortunate recipient.

I know that I don’t normally like to use this site as a vehicle to push for particular causes, but I feel that this is important enough to break with the norm. I would appreciate it if you would click on the image above to learn more, and consider donating one or more of these copies to our youth. Lord knows I could’ve benefited from having a resource such as this when I was growing up, and I’m pretty sure that a lot of you could’ve as well.

Thanks for your time, kids. No music today, as I would prefer to end this instead, with one of my heroes advise to “really, anybody who’s being picked on.”

Oh what the hell, who’re we kidding?

Here’s today’s song as well. Another of my heroes, engaged in another, earlier anti-bullying effort of sorts…

Rest In Peace

My youngest son, the heel-hoofing beautiful boy I recently “spoke” to my dad about, has a particular way of kissing me good night.

First he kisses my lips. Then my right ear. Then my left. And then my lips once more – presumably for good measure.

He kisses me good night in this fashion precisely each and every day, and last night was no exception.

Last night, however, I became painfully aware that while my 12 year old boy was kissing me good night, another father could very well have been kissing his 12 year old boy goodbye for the last time.

ONeills

My heart goes out to the parents, family and friends of Bailey O’Neill. I can not fathom the pain they must be feeling at this time, and I pray for their shared peace.

People, this shit has simply got to stop already. We have got to come to grips with the fact that we are not a nation of gun-totin’ John Wayne macho men walking off into the sunset – we are a nation of people. Living, breathing, loving – and sometimes hurting – people. None of us is any better than the rest, by mere incidence of physical appearance, skin color, sexual orientation, religious practice or social position.  God damn us for thinking anything otherwise.

A 12 year old boy died yesterday because we as a people not only allow bullying to occur, but have almost put the practice onto a pedestal of sorts, praising the “tough guy” while belittling the peace maker.

My son, my children, are no strangers to bullying. They have each learned to cope in their own fashion, with a sin that is upon us all. They have each learned to deal with this barbaric rite – a rite that no one should ever have live with, let alone die from.

Bailey, I am sorry that we allowed this to happen to you. I am so sorry.

People, this shit has simply got to stop already. Let’s get to work.

Silence

Bless the day when this is no longer required.

Click to find out more and to do your part.

Hey you Jesus people, it’s time to start practicing what the Man actually preached.

Hey you “H8ters,” it’s time to start looking inward instead of out, and dealing with the real problem at hand.

Hey you bullies, it’s time to realize that it takes a Real Man to not beat the crap out of anything he’s frightened by or doesn’t understand.

It takes a Real Man to love.

Hey you scared parents, it’s time to start loving your children for who they are, instead of for what.

Hey you G.S.A. students, God bless you. God bless every last one of you.

Hey you sitting there, adding nothing to the problem – but nothing to the solution either – it’s time to take a stand.

And it’s time today.