Ripples

A tear touched the still surface
Ripples began to spread
I forced my hand against the motion
to stop the ripples from reaching the edge

Shed unexpectedly without thought
Nonetheless recognized - again
Not wanting the tear to move or flow
wishing it to be buried and drowned unseen

The wave rose and crested
Falling hard upon the sands of loss
Grimacing with bared teeth
The pain slipped and fell in the wet sand

Pebbles beneath worn shoes
Find their way into holes in the heart
Sharing past lives lived in sun filled days
Undefined measures of time tossed

Touch when unaccustomed, burns
Skin tender and bruised with mistrust
A hand extends to grasp another outstretched
Find the gesture was given to another

The tear would not be stopped
Ripples spread with rapid steps
Dashed now against the edge
A bowl of water inches deep

Day Six ~ Eating Carbs and Writing

Day Six:

I woke knowing what I had to do. During our chat, my friend had posed a solution, and realizing that if I did not take the advice, I would spend another day sobbing and eating poorly, not writing, and sleeping far too much. I microwave scrambled and egg, slapped it on toast, then gulped down a large glass of water, and headed for the shower.

I got dressed to go out, but before leaving the apartment, I went to the fridge and tossed all the things that were depressing me and making me sick. The rest of the browning avocado, the last of the canned tomatoes. The cream cheese, that by now was growing its own penicillin farm, and the last of the spelt bread that was really rock hard. The fish was still frozen so it stayed. The remaining bit of soup was still good and I found I could not toss it out. The last tortilla was pretty brittle so I tossed that too.

Then I got on line and went to my banking site and transferred money from my savings to my checking.

I know, you are thinking, why didn’t I do that in the beginning. For a couple of good reasons, well, to me anyway: One, I am single, living on a fixed income and my savings is my only lifeline between me and living in my car. I hold every single cent in that account as precious, and it should never be touched. Two, I’m stubborn. I knew that I could sustain myself on what was in my apartment. I hated to think I was going to capitulate and break into my savings, just for food money. It irked me to no end. All along I knew I had the $21.00 in my wallet, and I could have, should have gone out an purchased some vegetables. I didn’t though and looking back, I believe I had gotten caught up in my own stubbornness. Seriously stressed and not thinking right contributed in no small way.

I did finally capitulate, and I transferred a small amount into my checking from my savings. I then made a list of items I would buy to complement the food I still had in the refrigerator and pantry.

Grocery shopping under such circumstances could have been disastrous, so I vowed not to deviate from the the list. If I added anything, it would be a vegetable or fruit that was in season. No pasta, no bread, period.

I came home with a satisfied feeling. I had spent my money on vegetables, fruit, almond milk for my cereal, and more fish. I hauled the loot up the stairs and into my apartment and then sent a quick email to my friend, stating that the mission to re-stock was accomplished with a minimum of stress and anxiety. I knew I could replace the money I took from my savings, it was only a matter of time. I hummed as I put the groceries away, munching on an apple while doing so. I brewed another batch of tea for the pitcher, and then settled down in front of my laptop to see what had happened to my story while I was away.

I had managed to get all the groceries on my list, with only one addition, strawberries. They would be great on top of my shredded wheat.

* * *

Depression whether brought on by outside sources, or internal demons, is not something that should be taken lightly. I am lucky that I have good friends and family that keep in touch. Having them to discuss the ups and downs of being single, on a fixed income, and living a very long distance away, has made all the difference. I owe them much, especially a dear friend of mine who never lets me stew over anything.  Persistence is that friend’s middle name I am certain.

GL Roberts is the author of Scar Tissue, a M/M Romance novella published by Seventh Window Publications. GL has also written a short story for the Goodreads M/M Romance Group Love is Always Write event titled A Pharaoh’s Promise, which is a FREE READ on the Goodreads site. The work discussed in this posting is titled Target Acquired and is currently out looking for a publisher. A second novella Light and Shadow is due out late summer from Seventh Window Publications.

Day Five ~ Eating Carbs and Writing

Day Five:

After eleven hours of sleep, I was not only feeling very lethargic but I was ill. The meal issues, the money issues, the writing, all of it left me exhausted. I couldn’t function. My friend, whom I try to chat with daily, was concerned. I had clammed up. I wasn’t my usual chatty self. That triggered a flood of emotions that even the Three Gorges Dam could not hold. I cried. I cried upon waking and reading my friend’s concern in an email. I cried as I dressed. I cried as I moved my laptop from the bedroom to the living room where I worked on my manuscripts. I cried as I looked at the refrigerator. I had no idea what was happening, but I cried regardless.

I did eat breakfast. A hard boiled egg. I choked it down between sobs. I made a cup of Earl Grey tea and sat down in the living room trying to cope with the massive emotional meltdown. Really, I was not eating much less than normal, and granted, I was used to a much greener diet, but to have this incredible gut wrenching mass of emotions was just not right. I tried to write. What I did write was tripe. I deleted everything I typed. I then did something I rarely did. I lay down on the floor with a pillow from the couch, put my back against the couch, and fell asleep. After eleven hours of sleep the previous night, I shouldn’t have been tired. I was exhausted and I had no recourse but to sleep it out.

When I woke, it was late afternoon. My stomach was growling and so I made another dish of pasta. This time adding an egg yolk to the dish of linguini, fire roasted tomatoes, tomato paste, onions, and garlic. I ate it all, then went to my bedroom and turned on my laptop. I watched old reruns of Night Gallery until it was time to chat with my friend. That was a bad night. I cried nearly non-stop and felt so bad about putting my friend in the position of having to try to make sense of the words that came out between the sobs.

I went to sleep right after our chat. I slept straight through again waking after nearly nine hours of sleep. This was not good and something had to be done.

Day Five over.

Day Four ~ Eating Carbs and Writing

Day Four:

I awoke with what felt like a rock in my stomach. I could not decide if the food I was eating was causing the ache, or if I was just anxious over not having the money for groceries just yet. Stress can be so debilitating and if it causes you to eat poorly, it can be a killer. Luckily, I usually eat much better than this and my resolve to eat right will carry me through this situation. It was one of the reasons I was so diligent in making sure I stuck to the right portion sizes. How easy it would have been to make twice as much pasta, or have a full two slices of bread for a sandwich, but I didn’t need it. My body does not need that much fuel. It would be like putting petrol in a Ferrari and watching the toxic liquid spill over the sides and ruin the paint job. No, I only need so much at a time. That, I was sure, was going to keep me from making the rest of the week a food nightmare.

Breakfast was the last of the grapefruit, a microwaved egg on top of a slice of toasted spelt bread. As you can see, I have avoided all cheese. The gouda and the cream cheese sit in the refrigerator awaiting their turn to be consumed. Not on your life little gooey bits of goodness, not until the inner workings start working. A cup of tea and a big glass of water accompanied the breakfast fare.

Today’s writing was all about the characters. Giving them a back story, a history. I like to interject bits of history into my stories. It is what I do best. Little factoids that help the reader get into the story. With my first short story, a M/M romance novella titled Scar Tissue, the story takes place in Washington D.C. and the year is 1976. I had a great muscle car in the story, and the descriptives helped place the characters in that time, replete with rotary dial telephones, and loud clothing. For this current work, the time was contemporary, but the characters needed a history. Day Four would be spent giving them a past.

Lunch today was another choice. I really did need to finish the precooked vegetables as they were not frozen after cooking and I DID NOT want them to go to waste. Then again, the avocado was turning a little brown even with the lemon juice I used to keep if from doing just that. I decided on the avocado. I spread avocado on another slice of bread, this time realizing I had eaten more bread in four days then I had in the previous four weeks. Paired it with water and went back to writing.

Supper approached and I was not really hungry, or so I thought. I didn’t feel hungry. I had plenty of water during the day and was frequenting the bathroom regularly. I should be hungry. I plated the last of the vegetables and sat down with a small glass of red wine. This time I skipped the water.

As I started to eat the vegetables, something kicked in. I was ravenous. I devoured the vegetables and headed for the fridge to see what else I could snag. Nothing appealed to me, so I opened the cupboard and took out the can of soup. I heated the soup and doled out the right portion (half a cup), then sat down to finish my meal. The soup was a mistake. I should have had more water instead of the soup. I felt bloated again, and very uncomfortable. I took myself to bed and slept 11 hours. That is not normal for me, at all. My usual sleeping pattern is six to seven hours. Any more and I am groggy. Eleven hours was not a good thing.

Day Four over, and the real trouble begins.

Day Three ~ Eating Carbs and Writing

Day Three dawned and I was not hungry, and I did have a little belly ache. For those of you who do not eat a lot of vegetables, this may not happen to you. For those who do, like me, the little belly ache is from all the carbs and no vegetables. Read this as constipation… That got me to thinking about what I had left and what I might do to alleviate the ache.

Breakfast consisted of a slice of spelt bread, toasted (I was hoping fiber would help) and a fifth of the avocado smeared on top, paired with another section of grapefruit, a cup of tea, and a big glass of water. I was still achy when I sat down to write and that was a huge distraction. I was beginning to think I needed to spend that $21.00 on vegetables.

I worked through the morning laying on my stomach, on the floor, with a pillow under my stomach and my laptop in front of me. That was a little better, but only a little. Come lunch time, I plated some of the pre-cooked vegetables, warmed them up in the microwave, and paired them with water. Getting back to work seemed like a chore. I was losing my concentration, and I was getting bloated.  Oh, swell (literally).

I spent the rest of the afternoon going through my medicine cabinet for some relief and found two things, some really old tablets of Pepto-Bismol, and two round disks labeled Gas-X. Yep, I chewed the Gas-X. I wondered what it was that made me feel so bloated. I took stock of what I had eaten. Looked over the canned stuff (the fire roasted tomatoes, and the tomato paste) to see if I had grossly overestimated their shelf life and all were okay, still well before their expiration date. I didn’t believe it was the vegetables. I roast them and eat them that way all the time. I could only point to the pasta and the bread. There was a good reason why I had a whole box of linguini and a nearly full loaf of bread. I don’t eat many carbs in that form. I keep the pasta around for a quick meal for company, and I have the bread around for when I am really craving toast or a sandwich. But having that many servings in one week, was in my mind, the culprit.

I did get some relief from the Gas-X. Enough to go back to writing and get a little more accomplished on the story. Supper was a choice between more pasta, or a fish fillet and veggies (but that would be the end of the veggies), or the fish as some sort of wrap in the tortilla. I opted for the fish in the tortilla. I cooked the fish in a skillet with a little olive oil. Added a little chopped onion to the skillet, then placed it all in a tortilla. It had a lot of flavor and the fish is a good source of all manner of good things. I felt a bit better and even found I was ready to write again.

I spent the evening writing and did not stop until after midnight. I guess I was trying to make up for the amount of time I spent lamenting over my stomach ache. I turned off the light just after 1 a.m.

Day Three over, thankfully.

Day Two ~ Eating Carbs and Writing

Day Two:

I awoke a little hungrier than usual, but I had expected that.  I got out of bed, showered, checked my email…well okay, I admit, I checked my email first, then I showered.  This morning breakfast would be the last of the shredded wheat, a half cup of the almond milk and some grapefruit slices.  The day was gray and damp, and promised to be a perfect day for writing, and it was.

I managed another 3k words on my short story by lunchtime.  Lunchtime for me is when I realize I haven’t eaten it.  I can get so involved in writing that I will forget to eat, pee, and if I haven’t showered that morning, I even forget to change out of what ever it was I wore to bed. This day, was one where I forget to stop and eat lunch, so lunch was at 2:00 p.m.

Lunch consisted of one slice of spelt bread lightly toasted.  I toast it because it resides in the refrigerator to stay fresh longer.  It toasts nicely.  After toasting the slice, I applied one tablespoon peanut butter and one tablespoon of jam.  Seriously, have you ever seen how much there is to a tablespoon? I was surprised when I spread the nutty spread over one half of the toast and still had some left on the knife.  No wasting the serving, I wiped the excess on the other side of the bread. Then did the same with the jam.  It was a very good little sandwich.  I made a pitcher of ice tea and had a glass with my lunch.  It was filling enough.

My short story, needed some research before I went any further, so after lunch I hit the internet to read up on the event of which my story was centered. That was fun.  I love research and can get really into what I’m reading.  I got the data I needed, and another thread for the story.  First, supper.

Let me take a moment and discuss the word supper. The way I use it will be for most, interchangeable with dinner. For me though, supper is the evening meal that is less formal. A family affair as opposed to a formal dinner with guests. When I spent time on the farm with family in Kansas, dinner was around 2 p.m. and supper was a later snack consisting of leftovers from dinner. Today, I refer to my last meal of the day as supper.

Supper consisted of one serving of linguini pasta and a sauce of fire roasted tomatoes, tomato paste, sautéed onions and garlic. I paired it with a glass of red wine and a glass of water. It was a filling meal. I went back to my story for another hour, then decided to give my eyes a rest. I turned off the laptop, made a cup of tea, then took my self to bed. I don’t have television as I sacrificed both cable and satellite for straight internet. My stories are submitted electronically, and I needed, wanted, the better speed for the internet. With that choice I opted not to get any television. I have found several sites on the internet where I can watch a movie for free (Hulu is my current choice). I turned on the desk top in my bedroom, navigated to Hulu and watched Notorious with Cary Grant.

Day Two over, and I’m still smiling.

Day One ~ Eating Carbs and Writing

I am one of the many underemployed. That is not to say that I am struggling like some of my fellow man, but I do have to watch where the money goes and be sure it goes to the things that are the most vital. Like food. Making every cent count is not a new concept, but it is one I found to be challenging. Sometimes that challenge is fun and rewarding, other times it can be a stumbling block that sends you in to a head first fall.

A point came late last month where I had to tighten my belt and readdress my situation at hand. I checked the larder and discovered I have plenty of stuff to eat. Two cups of olive oil, roughly two cups of balsamic vinegar; a half of a jar of peanut butter; a half jar of jam; six eggs; some dried linguini pasta; a can of soup; a tin of sardines; three frozen tilapia filets; a round of unopened gouda; half a brick of cream cheese; a head of romaine lettuce; a crown of broccoli; one sweet potato; one carrot; 12 spears of asparagus; an avocado; half a loaf of spelt bread (roughly seven slices); two tortillas; a can of refried beans; a can of fire roasted tomatoes; a can of tomato paste; a grapefruit; a lemon; an onion, and several cloves of garlic. Over a dozen bottles of wine, plenty of tea bags and coffee; roughly a pint of almond milk, enough shredded wheat for two more mornings, and — I discovered $21.00 in cash in my wallet. I vowed I would live off that food for as long as I could,only resorting to using the $21.00 in the direst of emergencies.

I first started by looking at the serving size on everything that had a label.  Then I measured out those proportions.  I put twist ties around the linguini so that I only grabbed a serving size out of the box.  I knew what amount equaled a serving of tomato paste and diced tomatoes, and wrote in black sharpie on the label, making it easier to see. That gave me an amazing five servings, FIVE!  I could eat the pasta meal consisting of garlic and onion sautéed in olive oil, fire roasted tomatoes, and tomato paste for five meals. I was elated.

I roasted all the hard vegetables (sweet potato, carrot, asparagus, half the cloves of garlic and half the onion, and the broccoli, then divided them up into cup sized proportions with roughly one sixth of the vegetables in one cup, then put them in plastic containers to be heated throughout the week.  That gave me three servings. Those would be pared with my tilapia frozen fish filets.  Okay, now that all the prep was finished, I was ready to see if I could make this work.

Day One:

I decided I would eat what would spoil quickest. Didn’t want anything to go to waste. I ate a bowl of shredded wheat with almond milk. That gave me plenty of energy to keep working on a couple of my short stories. I have one that is already published, another in the hand’s of my publisher, one published as a free read, and one out in search of a publisher.

I try to work on one storyline per week. With several works in progress, I need the weekend to shake loose the previous week’s work and concentrate on one of the other works. That is my routine. One week a short story, the next week the novel, followed by the short story and so on… This particular week I was working on a short story to be submitted and hopefully chosen,  for an anthology to be published late this summer.  So, thoughts in my head, and breakfast cheerfully eaten, I sat down to write.

Lunch was a tortilla wrap with a fifth of the avocado smeared over the wrap, lettuce and one sixth of the gouda cheese, and one egg white. I saved the egg yolk for the pasta. The writing was going well. I managed nearly 3,000 words that morning alone. The theme of the anthology was Going For Gold, short stories with an Olympic bent. I chose my sport and the characters, and found the story coming at breakneck speed.

Supper that night was one serving of vegetables reheated in the microwave, and one pan fried tilapia fish filet. Each meal was served with eight ounces of water, with four ounces of wine served with supper. I felt pretty good about the whole day. The meals, and the writing. I closed my laptop, made a cup of tea, then grabbed my Kindle and headed for bed.

Day One over.

Solo Balance (NC17)

breath

expelled openly upon skin

pleasures

dark moist spaces

 

gasps

lavished on lust hardened pillows

penetrate

sweat stained air

 

cries

hit pain driven desired hands

faltering

finding release

 

moans

mewling under twin sized sheets

dissipating

orgasm heat

 

sighs

laden heavily with remorse

acknowledging

abandoned limbs

Single Heart

When night falls upon

cerulean crowned silence,

A lone heart beat is

as the peal of a single bell

A clear note impeded

not by the dense night,

nor the veil that settles

over the sleep seekers

It echoes in the hollows

of empty stalwart corners,

keeping sentry still

in the shadows

Held on the air

among the silver tips

of slivered moonbeams,

carried on the backs

of caped night owls

Heart beat tolls 

and falls

like rain on the ocean,

and disappears beneath

leviathan wings of

cerulean crowned silence

 

 

Brutal Silence

the sharp edged, brutal silence of living alone, is often softened by the sounds of the live’s of others.  the elephants that live above me, who march the length of their flat, as if in search of the next watering hole. the car alarm of the little metro, parked at the edge of the drive, that goes off when someone sneezes.  the laugh of the children that live down the hall and make each pass by my door a parade.

i have my own noises too.

a whispered i love you to photographs.  a hum in the shower; some tune i remember from my youth.  the incessant march of kilowatts from an ice-maker not producing ice. the rolling boil in the kettle, another cup of tea for one.

if i did not live alone, these snippets of life would not be heard.  the elephants march unnoticed, the car alarm unheeded, the laughter undiscovered.

even in it’s brutality, the silence is not unwelcome.