Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Monday, December 9, 2013

Reminiscing Words: Let Me... Words are meaningless

When someone begs to tell you anything remind them that "Words are meaningless." It's in the actions of how we live our lives that matter most. Telling someone anything won't stop them from continuing to live or start them anew unless they want to. Oh you could try but that is simply a waste of your precious time. Unless you like wasting things? 

This was a story that came from an evening where I witnessed a performer being heckled and also had to listen to a brokenhearted friend's woes once again. Needless to say she thanked me for the story and never took me to another show again. 

Enjoy!
Kisses, m. 


Let Me
(7-1-2011)


Juno Temple and Brittany Snow c/o tylershields.com





Let me tell you one thing, I’m through with the games. I’m done.” It’s the same lie I tell myself every day except it’s realized itself into words that I’m telling the incomparable Missy LaRue. She’s spent the better part of three years following my song with a dance in this third rate club. Somewhere between the first and second act of the night I tell her about my new ex-love and how much of a revelation it’s brought upon me.

What if I told you that you were going to die? If I told you that you were going to die tomorrow would that change how you lived today?”  There’s not an answer in the house. It’s the one thing Missy likes to end her set with and tonight is different cause something happens when she asks it. It’s a hypothetical question meant to get the audience going ‘round in their heads. Never once does Missy ever expect a damn person pipe up with an answer. But tonight when she ended with that thought, somewhere off in the far right corner it came, a small voice that grew louder and louder until I heard what it was saying.

“It doesn’t matter.” The small man yells from the corner of the club before following it up with a colorful word or two between his rant. He’s telling her off. Telling her that she doesn’t know a damn thing after he calls her a self-righteous bitch before telling everyone that she’s a lying piece of work. Now Missy La Rue doesn’t jive with much of what other people think about her. Not one bit, but when you traipse across the advice she’s given others that gets her a bit worked up. Cause Missy don’t talk for vanity or personal gain. Missy wants to see people succeed and she knows like I know that most people won’t do a damn thing unless someone tells them to. That’s where her horse and pony show comes in.

Honey, quit lying to yourself!” Missy tells me before motioning to the powder puff by the mirror.
“I’m not lying. What?”
“Honey we all say enough with the game. 'I quit.' 'I toss in the towel.' And although you can’t quit the game of living, you'll still lie to yourself and say it. You know, the only thing you ought to be through with is thinking you can change people. That’s what you should think. Every time you drag another one of these third rate bastards back from this third rate club and tell yourself that it’s love, that’s the lie. That man wants one thing and it sure as hell ain’t love. But he’ll tell you that just the same to get it. ”
“Oh Missy, you’re being…”
“Honest. Darling, I’m being honest with you. Which is more than anyone else in this world or next will ever be with you and don’t you forget it. I’m honest with every person I meet and their behavior dictates whether they are friend or foe, not mine. My sharp tongue won’t harm you if you take the truth like it is a sword to the chest. A lie is the kind that stabs you from the back.”
“Missy then how will I ever…”
“True love waits. A man that wants to know you, all of you, he does so. It’s what he’s after and he’ll be glad to wait for much more. The ones that want ONLY will settle on that. Just that.”
“Missy, I love you. Thank you for…”
“Darling you don’t know love, but I get your sentiment anyway. You’re ok in my book.”

Now sugar, you’re entitled to your opinions about my show. I don’t think much about people who don’t have a lick of sense in their head. And fact be told, I love me a man with enough gumption to stand up for what he believes in. But first things first the name calling I can’t abide by and the second thing… the way you talk to someone you’ve never met speaks highly about the type of character you are. And you’re message is coming in loud and clear.”

Missy continues same as always. When she takes the path from side stage and walks down into the crowd she motions to Mike the stagehand to move the spot to follow her down into the crowd. The oohs and aahs of the crowd grow louder and louder until Missy is standing right next to the small man.

“Well sugar, what’s your name?  
“Jerod” the man breathes into the microphone while a thin blanket of sweat coats his face.
“Well, Jerry darling, what do have to say?”
“Um,” the small man swallows and says nothing.
“Come now, cat got your tongue?”
Silence emanates from the nervous small man.
“That’s what I thought, Sugar. Where was I? Yes, let us talk a little more. I don’t expect you or any of you to follow my word to the law. In fact that’s not at all what I’m about. I’m not a role model, I’m not a savior, and lord knows I’m not a saint. I’m simply here telling a little of what I know to those who may or may not know some of that already. And maybe it might help someone from making the same mistakes I've made. Oh yes! Jerry darling, are you ready to talk?”
“Ma’am, I don’t much agree with what you just said. I don’t like what game you’re running here. You’re trying to get people to do what you say and you’re a liar by that much.”
“Alright, that’s an opinion. No one is running a game any which way or how. And honey you shouldn’t make what I’m doing about you. Cause you don’t have to come here to listen to what I’m saying or watch what I’m doing. These people out here in the crowd, do you see them? Take a look. These fine people they get what I’m doing and what I’m REALLY about. And they do.”
With those words the audience roars with applause. Missy smiles and pats the small man on the back while the noise and laughter grows and when it rescinds she speaks her last words on the matter.
“So honey, I’m afraid your opinion… it doesn’t matter.”

And with those words, Missy let the man sit exactly where he was. Leaving him with his own words to ponder and the crowd with a show that they wouldn’t much forget when they wondered if tonight was truly their last one.



Sunday, November 10, 2013

Dragged

Some men love to be in drag! What can I say? Drag away you dirty men! Just know that the man I dig would never let himself get into drag. It would hurt his junk and that would never do for moi! So you dirty men don't hurt your junk too much when you go out in drag! That's important!

Anyhow this little ol pic reminds me of something dark I once wrote. Since I'm sharing for a few new readers... Here's another old story where another fabulous picture captures the real life sentiment of the very fictional tale  completely! 

Zachary Quinto from the Dirty Side of Glamour c/o tylershields.com


ALSO: If you haven't seen the new Justin Timberlake video, TKO... It somewhat captures the pure malevolence of my vision more cinematically. Although it's fake movie magic... Give it a look-see.


Enjoy!
Kisses, m


Six Feet
(5-21-09)


Night. Pitch Black. Headlights. Rain. Mud. He’s held up pretty well considering the 10 mile walk out here in the middle of nowhere. Barefoot for about the last 8 miles, I’d reckon. Well I’ve just spent the last 10 miles dragging this bastard down an unmarked road. Tied a rope to the hitch of my truck and gave him a 10 ft lead. Of course he fell a few times. Now about dragging someone on a rope while driving, it’s a chore cause if you go too fast he’ll end up all bloody & damaged and if you’re going too slow chances are he might jump in back. Not this one. He’s quite obedient. He’s a bit roughened up, but there’s no real damage yet. Shirt’s torn and almost gone. Well, he won’t need that anyhow.

He’s on the muddy ground in front of me. Filthy from falling in the muddy road along the way. As I’m digging he’s watching me, pleading for his life with his eyes. See I’ve got the upper hand here. We haven’t said a word since I tied him to the truck. In fact, this bastard is so sorry that he will do anything to make it up to me. His last words were something about eternal love and gratitude…etc. Sounded like begging to me. Untied and in the mud, he could’ve run at any moment. Yet he sits and stares at me, with eyes full of love and passion. Honestly all this obedience… I’m not impressed. I’m not changing my mind. I crack him with the shovel. “BASTARD!” He has me out here in the rain, digging in the filthy mud, “OUCH!” A broken nail as my hand slips down the handle. I crack him again. He stays and takes my abuse. I continue to dig.

Six feet. I continue to dig with the occasional glance at my dearly beloved. He never stops watching me, with those deep penetrating eyes, piercing my heart and confusing my mind. Damn! I’m in too deep to crack him with the shovel. “STOP IT!” I can’t take him back. This will only continue to happen. He can’t help himself. And he doesn’t understand. I wish he was like this all the time, but he’s not. It’s only a matter of hours even minutes before he changes again. And the madman emerges. It’s like night and day, Jekyll and Hyde. No matter how much I love him, this has to end. I could look the other way when he killed the animals and even all those evil men he hunted down. But that poor girl. What he did to her was horrific. It was hard to believe a human was capable of such physical violence. It took me three days to find all of her parts, minus the ones the monster kept as souvenirs, in that room. The one I’m not allowed into. It was quite frightening when I picked the lock that day. It couldn’t be helped. Not after that trail of blood that zigzagged its way down the hall and disappeared under the door.

“Get in the hole!” I scream. I have a rifle pointed square at the back of his head. He gets up and climbs in. “SIT DOWN.” He pauses and stares at me with those gorgeous eyes I can’t resist. I wish he wouldn’t, it only makes this harder. See I have to shoot him and I hate killing things. I cry when I run over small animals. I can’t imagine doing this for sport. It’s still raining. I’m crying. I sit down and drop the gun. Before I know it I’m in the hole kissing him goodbye.

“BANG!” sounds the gun, just as he breaks away from my kiss. His body pauses, he looks at me one last time and falls to the ground. He knew. Had the gun the whole time. I’m relieved. I was going to let the monster out of the hole. Selfishly I didn’t want to live without him no matter the cost. Even my life.


Saturday, June 15, 2013

STOP WASTING TIME!

Stop Wasting Time. Tyler Shields c/o www.tylershields.com

Life is both long and short! It's easy and hard. It's opposing factors at every bend. What do you do? Create more. It's human nature to make things worse. But realize you do not have to make anything worse for yourself ever. So why are you making it worse for yourself? You waste your time looking at someone who doesn't look back at you. Why? Don't do it. It's a waste. They don't see your words or hear them. Her response is this: I'm going to keep doing what I want anyway no matter what you say or do. Yet you continue. It's fun to watch for everyone around you. Including the object of your love/torment. Yet she doesn't care as she keeps going. Realize that you can not make anyone do anything you want... Unless they want to already. I don't want to. And I won't do what you want. Accept it and love yourself more! SO with that said...

To my favorite magician... Your trick is wasted on me. Now, Some people don't care. I'm not some people. I care enough to tell you: stop wasting time by doing something that has no result. I adore and respect you as a person. Which is the highest complement I can give anyone because for the most part, I don't like most people. They never earn my respect. So darling, I'm telling you this as a person who cares but can not fall in love with you in any shape or form other than to love you as my brother in humanity: Please stop this behavior and love yourself more. It's really tacky. Kisses. 

For the rest of you... You are free everyday to continue living as you choose. You can elect to do something wasteful or you can do something fabulous with yourself. Just remember you do need to work for what you get in life. It's not always going to be handed to you. Free is fabulous but it doesn't always happen. Entitlement will not help you in the end. 

Here's an old story and soon there will be more stories... AGAIN! I have delightful news to share but I can not just yet. I do miss sharing writing with all of you lovelies. The stories have always been my favorite to produce but there has to be a better way. WHY? Because I enjoy you reading them for free and others feel strongly that I must charge. Who's right? I am. Of course! Don't you know anything yet!

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.


The Last Time
(February 1st, 2010)

The last time. Like the ghost of the mind sent to haunt, I can remember it like it happened yesterday. So very strange, I can’t tell you what she was like, or the books she read, but I can remember the last time I saw her.

In the dark shadow beneath the eave of the Eleventh Street Bridge, wrapped up in a light blue sweater with her brown hair gathered beneath a scarf, she was avoiding the rain. It was raining; a stormy afternoon under black and grey skies dropping a flood of water from the heavens. How do you like that? Somehow it’s always raining in the songs and movies. But this was real life rain. The drenching kind where you can’t seem to keep the clothes from sticking. Dripping through the cracks and falling to the ground in tiny rivers that run downward along the slanted street. There was no where safe from the wetness. My clothes cling in the most uncomfortable way as I move through the blanket of water. After crossing the wet pavement I reach her and she pulls me close for a kiss. A deep kiss, passionate enough to stop time for a single moment. This is goodbye. I have no choice as its death or this. Staying isn’t an option. There are unspeakable crimes in this world and I can’t begin to be sorry for mine as they will tear us apart.

She asks me, “You love me don’t you?” Not waiting for my answer, she pulls out a knife. The kind you’d use to skin flesh from an animal after killing it. The knife caresses my cheek and catches the stubble of my newly grown beard. Tearing into my skin she pushes her interrogation further. “I’ll be your mirror. Take me with you?” Pushing her away, I can’t take her. I understand this demand. She won’t stop trying to save me from this life. Trying to be the mirror that reflects light to my darkness. I can only mirror darkness back into her. My heart can’t bear the thought of destroying something so pure. Small hands continue to struggle for a grip. Succeeding. Holding me tighter in a deep embrace.  Angry sobs fall from her as she’s pressing against me. Pulling at my skin. Tearing at her skin, I make an attempt to break free. Screaming as her body wrenches back and recoils with pain. Retaliating she leaps forward and plunges the knife through the soft skin of my belly. Without regard, I remove the knife and thrust her away from me.

Grappling to reach out to me again, her body slips. Downward she tumbles onto the sharp bloody knife. Almost as quickly I’m down after her. Lifting her back into my arms. Too late. The red slit deepens and spreads across her sweater. As the color blue fades into the crimson expanse I watch the life fall away from her. Our blood pools together silently landing in the flowing river of water. Holding back the tears I push the hair from her face and kiss her forehead. Tiny lips tremble with fear while the darkness comes. Mirroring my own darkness when she should be reflecting light. My delicate angel of light; falling into my life accidentally and leaving just as suddenly. In life she couldn’t never be my mirror, in death I can see the darkness reflected.

The only thing I have of her is this memory of death. The last time we embraced death was consuming her. Remembering death is the most painful memento as it haunts more powerfully than the memory of her life.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Invited



An Invitation to the home of a Killer! Would you go? I know I would. Even if you might be on the menu? Especially if I was! Why disappoint! Ha! You never know what will REALLY happen until you take a chance and jump on it? Lovely idea! Perhaps even lovelier if you were the killer. Am I a killer? Moi? Blaspheme!?! Perhaps unless you know moi... I often wonder about such things before realizing it's a waste of time to wonder. But who can really say what has happened or will happen next. The future hasn't happened yet and you can not stop what will happen. You can try. Here's a very old story and it's very much near and dear to my heart. You can find it in my ebook Killing Changes you here! Enjoy!

Kisses, m.




Killing Changes You.
(4-1-09)

“I could get used to this!” was what I thought as I slit his throat with my sharp knife.

The precise blade slid ever so delicately through and through his skin without the slightest bit of hesitation. Blood spilled down his chest blanketing the white button-down shirt in a dark crimson red. I was feeling very much like Hannibal Lecter when I licked the blade clean of his blood. Slowly, as I continue to clean my blade, I watch his body melt into the pool of red liquid on the wooden floor before me. You know what they say, the first time is all it takes to become addicted.

Killing changes you. Once you’ve committed the unspeakable act there’s no turning back. Funny thing was, I knew from that moment on, I was hooked. Who would be my next victim? See after all, this wasn’t planned. It was an opportunity. I seized it! The thrill of taking a life had always been on the top of my “DO NOT SHARE” list. You know that list of dark sadistic things that you just don’t share. Everyone has one, but you don’t speak of it.

I had to wait, like a predator stalking my prey. Watching… waiting... wanting… until just the right… moment. Perhaps this is how Jack the Ripper felt as he chose his victims? And who would catch me? I would be leaving the country in a matter of days. No one would be shocked if I never returned. No one could blame me for walking away from my dead end job, my artistic failure. Again, they might miss him? Doubtful, I surprised him. He wasn’t scheduled to return from his trip for a few more days. You know the type, workaholic, and no next of kin. Only leaves the house for the office and returns back promptly each day. The cleaning lady was the only person who would find the body, and she wouldn’t be returning until Monday. But again, my darkness consumes me and the wheels start to spin.

How many ways can you dispose of a body? Too many! Too FUN! Just as I’m dreaming up new, sick and twisted ways to make a body disappear… BAM! “I guess he wasn’t dead after all,” are my thoughts as I’m falling quick, looking up at this bastard holding his throat with one hand and a large blunt object in the other. I’m Out.

I often wondered what it would be like to be tortured. Today I find out. I’m bound (hands & feet) and gagged. He’s sewn up his neck wound and licking the knife – there’s blood – while I have to watch. “See, I guess two can play this game,” he says. It’s my blood… apparently he’s cut me, ten places I can visibly see in my arms and legs. But from what I can feel there are several more than that.

“You should have made sure I was dead!” With a sick sadistic smile he edges closer to me. “Cause you’ll never leave here now.” He grabs my neck, kneels down and slides the blade down my left cheek. I can feel the blood spill out, downward, as it mixes with my tears. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” he whispers in my ear.

Again no one would blame me if I never came back.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

But it happened...

 photo goldfrappcaryb2.jpg
Goldfrapp


"But it happened..." is what he says and I know he's right when he says it. Why? Because it's happened. The glass has fallen and broken. It's the warning I said to him before it was about to happen that echoes in my mind. Because that warning didn't stop it from happening. It only prompted him to say afterwards... "Well, it shouldn't have happened this way." I agree... but it did. That's the trick. Once something has happened you can't change that it did. No matter how much you believe that it shouldn't have it still did indeed happen. Pretending that it didn't happen won't change things either. You can wonder if it was inevitable but there's nothing you can do to erase the reality that it happened. 

If a silver haired mannequin falls in the middle of H&M when the store is closed & empty and the cameras are off due to a power outage did it happen? Yes it did. There's no irrefutable evidence to deny what has occurred. Because when someone stumbles in early the next morning completely hung from the night before, where too many men named Jack, Jim and Johnny Walker Black Label insisted upon more drinks, they will discover the silver haired plastic man has fallen. So it happened... and it could happen again. In this instance of mine, I tell him the same as I am telling you, "Sometimes things will happen. And you can try to prepare yourself for them as best you can... but sometimes they will still happen." 

Anyhow here's a little story written upon the end... and the beginning. Enjoy. 

kisses, m.


Shouldn't have happened this way.
(11-14-09)

Shouldn’t have happened this way. As a prisoner in the dark trunk of this old car sandwiched between two dead men, I lie here thinking just that. Somehow things went completely wrong, and I’m soon to find myself cooperating with the business end of a shovel. 

I should have seen this coming. It would have worked if I hadn’t walked back through the door. Things went all according to plan. Three vehicles; the van for ammo and reinforcements, the getaway car allowing timely departure and the van carrying the meds for any wounded. No one should have been killed. Leave none behind. That was his plan and yet here I am waiting to have my head severed from my body; along with my counterparts I would be burned and buried in a remote corner of the world.

There are times when a person questions the choices made and wonders what could have happened if the circumstances were different. No one would be dead, I wouldn’t be waiting for death, and the plan may have gone off without a hitch.

At least I’m still armed. In the waistband of my jeans there’s a gun. It couldn’t matter less as there’s no escape from this. Shoot a hole through the trunk? Using the gun to gain freedom my can serve no good purpose. My escape would result in an eventual death.

Mine.

But I knew the stakes going in. Pulling the gun on him would eliminate my current dilemma. However, those counterparts in this mass network of crime would undoubtedly track me down and end my life without question. Yet, the only solution to my present circumstances is to kill this man. Premeditating my crime, silently encased between the only friends I have left, as this car cruises towards its final destination.

The car comes to a stop. Red hue of brake lights blankets the interior of the compartment. White skin of my neighbor reflects off the high scarlet brilliance. Shifting of the bodies pushes me into the center of the trunk. Tightly packed in, swaddled in the comfort of death.

Near the front of the vehicle I can hear movement. There’s a voice approaching the car. Movement within the vehicle indicates that he’s getting out.

Door opens and slams closed. Booming altos disagree in a symphonic melody that ends in the sound of a lone gun firing. Listening intently the sounds of the exterior are still close. Steady myself and prepare. There’s only one chance at this.

Car rocks gently. Latch of the trunk releases. Steps fall loudly near the rear of the car and stop. External light enters the space. Fingers reach in. My eyes wait for the prize. Open. Large figure towers down over me. Shoot. Quickly falling backwards and down goes this shadow.

Climbing out of the moving tomb, it’s clear as day, I’ve hit the wrong person. A uniformed officer lies out along this deserted dirt road with a hole in his head. Along the side of the car there’s his body, the evil mastermind is dead. I need to get away. Get as much distance as I can from this mess. It really shouldn’t have happened this way... yet it did.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Let me

Juno Temple and Brittany Snow c/o tylershields.com



Let Me


Let me tell you one thing, I’m through with the games. I’m done.” It’s the same lie I tell myself every day except it’s realized itself into words that I’m telling the incomparable Missy LaRue. She’s spent the better part of three years following my song with a dance in this third rate club. Somewhere between the first and second act of the night I tell her about my new ex-love and how much of a revelation it’s brought upon me.

What if I told you that you were going to die? If I told you that you were going to die tomorrow would that change how you lived today?”  There’s not an answer in the house. It’s the one thing Missy likes to end her set with and tonight is different cause something happens when she asks it. It’s a hypothetical question meant to get the audience going ‘round in their heads. Never once does Missy ever expect a damn person pipe up with an answer. But tonight when she ended with that thought, somewhere off in the far right corner it came, a small voice that grew louder and louder until I heard what it was saying.

“It doesn’t matter.” The small man yells from the corner of the club before following it up with a colorful word or two between his rant. He’s telling her off. Telling her that she doesn’t know a damn thing after he calls her a self-righteous bitch before telling everyone that she’s a lying piece of work. Now Missy La Rue doesn’t jive with much of what other people think about her. Not one bit, but when you traipse across the advice she’s given others that gets her a bit worked up. Cause Missy don’t talk for vanity or personal gain. Missy wants to see people succeed and she knows like I know that most people won’t do a damn thing unless someone tells them to. That’s where her horse and pony show comes in.

Honey, quit lying to yourself!” Missy tells me before motioning to the powder puff by the mirror.
“I’m not lying. What?”
“Honey we all say enough with the game. 'I quit.' 'I toss in the towel.' And although you can’t quit the game of living, you'll still lie to yourself and say it. You know, the only thing you ought to be through with is thinking you can change people. That’s what you should think. Every time you drag another one of these third rate bastards back from this third rate club and tell yourself that it’s love, that’s the lie. That man wants one thing and it sure as hell ain’t love. But he’ll tell you that just the same to get it. ”
“Oh Missy, you’re being…”
“Honest. Darling, I’m being honest with you. Which is more than anyone else in this world or next will ever be with you and don’t you forget it. I’m honest with every person I meet and their behavior dictates whether they are friend or foe, not mine. My sharp tongue won’t harm you if you take the truth like it is a sword to the chest. A lie is the kind that stabs you from the back.”
“Missy then how will I ever…”
“True love waits. A man that wants to know you, all of you, he does so. It’s what he’s after and he’ll be glad to wait for much more. The ones that want ONLY will settle on that. Just that.”
“Missy, I love you. Thank you for…”
“Darling you don’t know love, but I get your sentiment anyway. You’re ok in my book.”

Now sugar, you’re entitled to your opinions about my show. I don’t think much about people who don’t have a lick of sense in their head. And fact be told, I love me a man with enough gumption to stand up for what he believes in. But first things first the name calling I can’t abide by and the second thing… the way you talk to someone you’ve never met speaks highly about the type of character you are. And you’re message is coming in loud and clear.”

Missy continues same as always. When she takes the path from side stage and walks down into the crowd she motions to Mike the stagehand to move the spot to follow her down into the crowd. The oohs and aahs of the crowd grow louder and louder until Missy is standing right next to the small man.

“Well sugar, what’s your name?  
“Jerod” the man breathes into the microphone while a thin blanket of sweat coats his face.
“Well, Jerry darling, what do have to say?”
“Um,” the small man swallows and says nothing.
“Come now, cat got your tongue?”
Silence emanates from the nervous small man.
“That’s what I thought, Sugar. Where was I? Yes, let us talk a little more. I don’t expect you or any of you to follow my word to the law. In fact that’s not at all what I’m about. I’m not a role model, I’m not a savior, and lord knows I’m not a saint. I’m simply here telling a little of what I know to those who may or may not know some of that already. And maybe it might help someone from making the same mistakes I've made. Oh yes! Jerry darling, are you ready to talk?”
“Ma’am, I don’t much agree with what you just said. I don’t like what game you’re running here. You’re trying to get people to do what you say and you’re a liar by that much.”
“Alright, that’s an opinion. No one is running a game any which way or how. And honey you shouldn’t make what I’m doing about you. Cause you don’t have to come here to listen to what I’m saying or watch what I’m doing. These people out here in the crowd, do you see them? Take a look. These fine people they get what I’m doing and what I’m REALLY about. And they do.”
With those words the audience roars with applause. Missy smiles and pats the small man on the back while the noise and laughter grows and when it rescinds she speaks her last words on the matter.
“So honey, I’m afraid your opinion… it doesn’t matter.”

And with those words, Missy let the man sit exactly where he was. Leaving him with his own words to ponder and the crowd with a show that they wouldn’t much forget when they wondered if tonight was truly their last one.


Let me tell you something… went to a show recently and saw the amazing and talented artist heckled. And the person turned the tables on the jerk. I thought that was pretty crafty and resilient of the artist. The man left and I stood still in awe of the artist for standing up for himself. I do love when people represent themselves. The experience reminded me of this story. Because to do what needs to be done as an artist, a writer, an actor, and person living from talent it is having a strength within to deflect the negativity. Ultimately as a fledgling writer I don't have the luxury of experiencing the exciting life or blows that come from the spotlight. And I can't say that it upsets me either. That form of negativity is something my life does not need. 


So let me tell you... Actually, why don’t you tell me? Come now, what do you have to say? You all have something even if you think otherwise. I promise you that much. Please realize that your words have power. All of our voices do. And you should speak for yourself. I love when people represent themselves confidently. Be proud of your voice. It’s amazing. We are all teachers in this life. Just remember you shouldn’t expect others to listen or follow your words as dogma. Likewise you should never follow anyone’s words as law. There is not one truth I can tell you that you will not discover for yourself.

So go forth, learn and teach. But you must understand your knowledge will be interpreted and spread by others. The message you choose to share can have significant effects. You can choose to attack others or be positive about what you’re saying. Remember, no one will think lesser of you for saying exactly what's on your mind as long as you do it in a manner that is respectful to others. You may not agree with what someone is doing in this life but that is not up to you. Furthermore you can’t disagree with a situation without being fully informed. And unless you bother to ask someone about their situation I doubt you’ll ever know the truth of what that is. Live, love and breathe with everything you’ve got. kisses, lovelies. m.