Manuela Cardiga's Blog, page 36
August 11, 2015
REALITY TV IS THE LIFE FOR MEI fell asleep at the wheel,I...
REALITY TV IS THE LIFE FOR ME
I fell asleep at the wheel,
I fell from a ladder,
I fell to my knees.
Some mundane tragedy
Overcame my uneventful
Trailer-park path
From birth to death
With out a spark.
I died
Was crippled
Robbed or raped
Taken to Hospital
Or put in a grave;
They knocked on the door
At the very wrong hour
Mama was distracted
Her disposition was sour
They gave her the news
Mumbled condolences
Or some fake "fate" excuse
And Mama screamed
Grinding her yellowed teeth:
"It is beyond disbelief
You officers of the law
Being so thoughtless
And so rude as to intrude
In this uncouth manner
On my vicarious grief!"
Manuela Cardiga
I fell asleep at the wheel,
I fell from a ladder,
I fell to my knees.
Some mundane tragedy
Overcame my uneventful
Trailer-park path
From birth to death
With out a spark.
I died
Was crippled
Robbed or raped
Taken to Hospital
Or put in a grave;
They knocked on the door
At the very wrong hour
Mama was distracted
Her disposition was sour
They gave her the news
Mumbled condolences
Or some fake "fate" excuse
And Mama screamed
Grinding her yellowed teeth:
"It is beyond disbelief
You officers of the law
Being so thoughtless
And so rude as to intrude
In this uncouth manner
On my vicarious grief!"
Manuela Cardiga
August 10, 2015
Crisis can be the midwife bringing your long-gestating sp...
Crisis can be the midwife bringing your long-gestating spiritual maturity into your conscious awareness. It's not easy, birth is both joy and pain combined, as anyone who has witnessed a baby's first cry will confirm.
MC
MC
August 9, 2015
In order to reach our ultimate destination we somet...
In order to reach our ultimate destination we sometimes need to be willing to get lost.
There are no right ways!
MC
There are no right ways!
MC
August 7, 2015
A natural need to be needed makes us vulnerable to exploi...
A natural need to be needed makes us vulnerable to exploitation by the unscrupulous. Some people are vampires, and their parasitic dependence is the most brutal form of domination.
MC
MC
August 6, 2015
SCATALOGICAL PONDERINGS III
Could we redefine laxatives as the true new opiate of the masses?
From Conversations with Ivan
From Conversations with Ivan
SCATALOGICAL PONDERINGS IIYou could define a civilization...
SCATALOGICAL PONDERINGS II
You could define a civilization's standard of sophistication by analising their latrines.
FROM CONVERSATIONS WITH IVAN.
You could define a civilization's standard of sophistication by analising their latrines.
FROM CONVERSATIONS WITH IVAN.
SCATALOGICAL PONDERINGSME: I bet that if you researched y...
SCATALOGICAL PONDERINGS
ME: I bet that if you researched you would find every one of the enlightened suffered either from incontinence or constipation, which would basically mean that this is the yin-yang of scatology, which in turn birthed philosophy.
IVAN: Explain please.
ME: Well peeing in your pants, or not being able to poo when you need to will lead a man to try and understand his place, and his utter helplessness before the universe, since he cannot command the most basic functions of his own body.
IVAN: You have it. The fountain of truth relies on plumbing.
ME: I think so.
IVAN: You nuts!
ME: Think about it: regular bowels and a happy bladder are the enemies of deep thought
IVAN: You right! Sitting on the can leads to contemplation, which is the highest art to which a man can aspire.
ME: You think this is why they call bull-shit bull-shit?
From Conversations with Ivan.
ME: I bet that if you researched you would find every one of the enlightened suffered either from incontinence or constipation, which would basically mean that this is the yin-yang of scatology, which in turn birthed philosophy.
IVAN: Explain please.
ME: Well peeing in your pants, or not being able to poo when you need to will lead a man to try and understand his place, and his utter helplessness before the universe, since he cannot command the most basic functions of his own body.
IVAN: You have it. The fountain of truth relies on plumbing.
ME: I think so.
IVAN: You nuts!
ME: Think about it: regular bowels and a happy bladder are the enemies of deep thought
IVAN: You right! Sitting on the can leads to contemplation, which is the highest art to which a man can aspire.
ME: You think this is why they call bull-shit bull-shit?
From Conversations with Ivan.
WOW!!!! GREAT Review from BDSM Book Reviews for DESIRE'S DETECTIVE! 5 out of 5 Paddles Rating!
This was one of the most fun reads I’ve experienced in a long time. The characters were an absolute delight and the storyline was great. The voice of the author(s) was refreshing and the humor worked in all the right spots. Now, this isn’t really BDSM per se, but there is some bondage and talk of anal play. I’ll tell you, even though I was reading this for a BDSM review site and there wasn’t much BDSM… I didn’t care. I was totally “into” the story and didn’t miss the BDSM aspect at all. The story is so interesting with the romance, mystery, and humor it is definitely worth the read. I’d be very interested in reading the next in the series.
THE REVIEW
BUY THE BOOK!!! (pretty please?)
THE REVIEW
BUY THE BOOK!!! (pretty please?)
August 5, 2015
Pawning Pearl - Part 37
Pearl was sure somehow, somewhere she had misread the rules to life; somehow she had missed some step that people take to "get it right". She had been tossed and tumbled like flotsam in a cyclone: she had been shipped from her home and delivered to a stranger; she had been rescued and fallen in love with a man, with children, with life. Little reclusive bookish Pearl had woken up to the big world and discovered she was alive, desirable, desired and beloved.
If Pearl had ever owned up to sneak-reading her Aunt Gwendolyn's stack of dog-eared Mill's& Boon's romances she would have declared herself as a true believer in what she had once though to be no more than rose-coloured fantasy.
She though of herself in her Dior gown, sweeping the ostrich feathers off her shoulders, and the way Simon's eyes had lit up; of herself on the arm of the dashing international celebrity in her shimmering scarlet gown, the antique garnets heating her throat...
And then she thought of sitting hand in hand with Simon in that doctor's office. The agony of the waiting, and the realization that this was it. Real life. Not black velvety orchids or moonlight horse-rides, or violin serenades. This man by her side: sometimes clumsy but always sincere and kind, as lost and awkward as she in this confusing labyrinth of life.
She had her brief taste of the dizzy and the dazzling, now she had to do what she had always done, pick up the burden of duty and forge ahead. This time the burden was feather light, as sweet as it was agonizing; poignant, and painful and joyous.
"Well Pearl, my girl, what it is is love! When you love it always hurts. It hurts when it goes right, and it hurts when it goes wrong. It just means you are feeling, that's all."
Pearl smiled to herself as she remembered Mrs. Markovitch's firm refusal of her despair. "We take that apple and scrape out the worm; we eat the part that's sweet, and spit out the rest. You'll be ok Pearl, you'll pass this test, and the next, and the next. You'll survive. It's what we women do best"
She must act: action, not contemplation had always been her salvation; and she had plenty of work to do. She had Isaiah to raise, Thalie to nurture, Simon to tame.
At the though of him a smile curved her lips. What did Mrs. Markovitch call him "hunk of chocolate" - and Mrs. Markovitch had never glimpsed Simon coming out of the bathroom with just a towel around his hips, gleaming from the shower, trickles of water running down that wide chest with those little peppercorns of crisp hair...
"You are a lustful, shallow woman, Pearl," she said to herself as she selected a shopping cart at the doors of her favorite supermarket, "And it's WONDERFUL!"
***
A few hours later she was back at the apartment unpacking the groceries with the children, mediating the squabble over who put away the ice-cream.
Tonight after dinner, she would call the family together for a meeting. Explain the situation to Thalie and Isaiah; pass on the nutritionist's advice to Simon.
An inkling of an idea was stirring...
Something Heather Umlozi had said about the special needs of HIV-infected children. Simon had said they would be moving to the penthouse, which would leave this fine apartment empty, and just plain wasted.
She remembered the small group Heather Umlozi had pointed out to her on her way out of the Clinic. Four children -AIDs orphans - the oldest fifteen, who were living on the streets, coping heroically with every disadvantage and the deadly disease afflicting the yougest three. Hardened street-children, who survived by stealing and selling themselves, and had somehow, forged a loving, supportive family. She would speak to Simon. After all, the apartment would be standing empty and he was such a generous man!
Humming happily, Pearl shooed the two children out and started to make dinner. Chicken and spaghetti and a chocolate cake to follow. Meanwhile, she prepared Thalie and Isaiah a mid-afternoon snack: a green apple sliced thin with some orange cheese, and two bowls of full-cream ice-cream with nuts sprinkled on the top. Extra fat, extra calories! Isaiah was whip-thin, and Thalie needed that extra energy to fight the parasitical monster lurking in her blood.
TO BE CONTINUED
MC
If Pearl had ever owned up to sneak-reading her Aunt Gwendolyn's stack of dog-eared Mill's& Boon's romances she would have declared herself as a true believer in what she had once though to be no more than rose-coloured fantasy.
She though of herself in her Dior gown, sweeping the ostrich feathers off her shoulders, and the way Simon's eyes had lit up; of herself on the arm of the dashing international celebrity in her shimmering scarlet gown, the antique garnets heating her throat...
And then she thought of sitting hand in hand with Simon in that doctor's office. The agony of the waiting, and the realization that this was it. Real life. Not black velvety orchids or moonlight horse-rides, or violin serenades. This man by her side: sometimes clumsy but always sincere and kind, as lost and awkward as she in this confusing labyrinth of life.
She had her brief taste of the dizzy and the dazzling, now she had to do what she had always done, pick up the burden of duty and forge ahead. This time the burden was feather light, as sweet as it was agonizing; poignant, and painful and joyous.
"Well Pearl, my girl, what it is is love! When you love it always hurts. It hurts when it goes right, and it hurts when it goes wrong. It just means you are feeling, that's all."
Pearl smiled to herself as she remembered Mrs. Markovitch's firm refusal of her despair. "We take that apple and scrape out the worm; we eat the part that's sweet, and spit out the rest. You'll be ok Pearl, you'll pass this test, and the next, and the next. You'll survive. It's what we women do best"
She must act: action, not contemplation had always been her salvation; and she had plenty of work to do. She had Isaiah to raise, Thalie to nurture, Simon to tame.
At the though of him a smile curved her lips. What did Mrs. Markovitch call him "hunk of chocolate" - and Mrs. Markovitch had never glimpsed Simon coming out of the bathroom with just a towel around his hips, gleaming from the shower, trickles of water running down that wide chest with those little peppercorns of crisp hair...
"You are a lustful, shallow woman, Pearl," she said to herself as she selected a shopping cart at the doors of her favorite supermarket, "And it's WONDERFUL!"
***
A few hours later she was back at the apartment unpacking the groceries with the children, mediating the squabble over who put away the ice-cream.
Tonight after dinner, she would call the family together for a meeting. Explain the situation to Thalie and Isaiah; pass on the nutritionist's advice to Simon.
An inkling of an idea was stirring...
Something Heather Umlozi had said about the special needs of HIV-infected children. Simon had said they would be moving to the penthouse, which would leave this fine apartment empty, and just plain wasted.
She remembered the small group Heather Umlozi had pointed out to her on her way out of the Clinic. Four children -AIDs orphans - the oldest fifteen, who were living on the streets, coping heroically with every disadvantage and the deadly disease afflicting the yougest three. Hardened street-children, who survived by stealing and selling themselves, and had somehow, forged a loving, supportive family. She would speak to Simon. After all, the apartment would be standing empty and he was such a generous man!
Humming happily, Pearl shooed the two children out and started to make dinner. Chicken and spaghetti and a chocolate cake to follow. Meanwhile, she prepared Thalie and Isaiah a mid-afternoon snack: a green apple sliced thin with some orange cheese, and two bowls of full-cream ice-cream with nuts sprinkled on the top. Extra fat, extra calories! Isaiah was whip-thin, and Thalie needed that extra energy to fight the parasitical monster lurking in her blood.
TO BE CONTINUED
MC
