Madhuri Pavamani's Blog, page 23
May 17, 2015
The Dress
The dress was perfect.
It was light and barely there and sexy as sin
and as I pulled it over my head and slipped it over my curves
it felt like he kissed me everywhere
ran his hands over every inch of my body
possessed me
claimed me as his.
And I wanted nothing more than to be owned.
May 16, 2015
Special
Would he draw a line in the sand between us
because I already knew I would allow no such thing
no barrier
no partition
no nothing.
He could easily get around my denial of our predicament
my refusal
my rejection
by simply never contacting me again and even though I hated admitting it
the possibility of him following such a course loomed large.
I pushed him in ways he hated being pushed
I demanded things of him he despised
I brought to the surface aspects of himself he long ago buried
and intended never to revisit or remember or recall.
I was everything he didn’t want.
And I had no idea where to find him were he to suddenly vanish
I simply assumed I would never need to
that he would always come back to me
that I was
just.
that.
special.
May 15, 2015
Random Thoughts
1. My friend, Alessandra, sent me 11 Late Night Facts About Waffle House which was so timely because I was JUST telling The Husband that I firmly believe one has not lived until they’ve spent a late night in a Waffle House – it is seriously one of the best spots on the planet. I admit there’s a strong chance fact #7 plays a significant role in this belief as a great portion of my teenage night-crawling years were spent in one of those hard, yellow booths, but whatever. Also, I knew none of these facts because they’re utterly irrelevant to my intimate love for and knowledge of Waffle House – they don’t even scratch the surface of my affection for this staple of life below the Mason-Dixon line.
2. I’ve been invited to do a reading of my work next month and am going to read from The Girl but have no idea what. I’ll probably read chapters one and two since I’m sure no one there will know my work, but honestly, I wish I could read from Book III.
3. This gem from my amazing, talented, funny, brilliant, loving friend Michele brings the joy every time I see it. I think he brings the joy to quite a lot of other folks as well.
4. My girlfriend, Priya, called me late last night and we shared some laughs about something she conveniently pushed off on me when she couldn’t deal anymore. Mind you, she pushed it off on me without talking to me about it because honestly, Priya and I haven’t spoken in months. And not because there’s beef or strife but simply because we live two time zones apart, are both working moms, and just fucking busy as shit. What struck me about our call yesterday is that we were so chatty and giggly and stupid as if no time had passed since we last spoke, as if we chatted the other day, as if we chatted all the time. We picked up like it was nothing. There was no need to apologize for not speaking in forever because it didn’t fucking matter. I love that. And I love her. Madly.
5. When the fuck did Anthony Bourdain become so sexy? Also, that Parts Unknown episode with David Choe and Roy Choi is still one of my favorites.
6. The pup has grown on me, but I think The Husband wouldn’t be too sad to see him go bye-bye. He spent a good twenty minutes last night castigating me for giving into The Kid and getting The Pup. As they say, you cannot please all of the people all of the time. #shouldershrug
7. I’m going back to buying paperback copies of my books. I like reading online as much as the next motherfucker, but nothing replaces the magic of flipping those pages. Just ordered Throne of Glass – hope it’s as good as Corey says it is. And if you’ve got reading recs for me, send them my way.
8. We’re going to a wedding tomorrow night which, if you know me, is major because there’s really nothing I hate more than weddings. And as usual, I’ve wondered a million times if and how I can get out of this thing – so far, I’m stuck. Grrrr.
9. I’ve spent this week listening to some of my favorite jazz legends – Cannonball Adderley, Thelonious Monk, Wes Montgomery, Dexter Gordon, Charles Mingus – but nothing compares to Art Blakey’s Moanin’. Whoa. Good god it’s amazing. Listen to it let it get in your bones and move your soul. Yes. Do that. Now. #thankmelater
10. Remember Gwen Stefani’s husband? Remember how they used to be papped with their kids ALL the fucking time? What happened to him? He just vanished. So weird…
May 14, 2015
May 13, 2015
Is It Strange
that I can’t write with music on?
I used to do everything with music playing, sometimes loudly, sometimes just a whisper, but it was always there, always keeping time to something, providing an eternal rhythm to my life.
Until it wasn’t.
Now, when I set about to seriously get on my grind and write, I must turn off the music and clear my head.
Even jazz – no can do. If I leave it on, before long I find myself bobbing to the beat, humming the melody, and generally allowing the music to take over my soul.
Which is awesome if we’re going dancing because trust that I will be your ever-ready dance partner, you will be begging me to take a break, we will be closing down the club.
But is not so great for writing – in fact, listening to music just totally fucks with my flow because I get lost in the beats and the words never make it to the paper. They stay locked in my head, floating around somewhere, probably dancing to whatever music is playing on my speakers.
I read all these interviews with writers who talk about all the great music they listen to when they write and I envy them. I can’t give up my favorite song to play when I’m writing or the artist who most inspired my characters because
there is no goddamned music playing while I am writing.
Actually, that’s not totally true.
I write some kickass murder and mayhem whenever listening to Mozart.
Not sure what that says about me
or him.
Hands
He came to me.
That half smile of full lips pained memories and hope.
The eyes
dark and wild and hot.
The skin so warm and rough in places
brown and inviting
much like himself
though he would never agree to such terms.
And his hands
god his hands.
January 1, 2015
Random Thoughts
1.��I forgot how brilliant the final scene of Stringer Bell’s life is – with him running through that warehouse, a look of pure terror on his face as Brother Mouzone and Omar close in on him, the last sentence he uttered cut short by a hail of gun fire. The violence of his death contrasted so sharply with how he presented himself in life. Loved it. And thoroughly enjoyed watching it, and the entire series, again. Thank you, HBO.
2. Saw this the other day on a friend’s Facebook page. Substitute “jeans” with “skirt” and I could not agree more. It’s getting ugly around these parts.
3. Men love a woman who drinks bourbon or scotch. I walked into our favorite bar the other night with The Husband and some friends were there, hanging with the bartender, shooting the shit. He asked me what I was drinking, I said a simple “Bulleit, neat”, and the four guys sitting there plus the bartender ate it up, all of them immediately giving me mad love for my drink selection, The Husband looking quite pleased to be attached to such a badass woman. HAHA. Men, they’re so silly. And quite easy to wrap around your finger.
4. Mo’ne Davis: AP Female Athlete of the Year and the Badass of 2014 who’s got everyone wanting to throw like a girl
5. Not to sound like a dick, but I love the fact that Pharrell’s Happy is being touted as the song of 2014 and I was blogging about it��in 2013���cuz sometimes I’m just on my shit like that.
6. I glanced at another blogger’s post just now: Best and Worst of 2014. Imagine being on someone’s Worst list? God, that would suck.
7. Speaking of lists, this bitch made OOSA Online Book Club’s Best of 2014 list for THE GIRL:
���The author weaved an excellent novel dealing with good versus evil and even managed to bring forth a love story in the midst of battle���Readers will be pulled into a world of fantasy and the emotions they will encounter are real and heartfelt.������ OOSA
Yea me.
December 30, 2014
My 2014 Blogging Year In Review
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog. It’s pretty straight-forward and probably only fascinating for me to see, but I’m sharing it anyway.
One thing I will say: I’m not surprised my post on Ryker got the most comments – he’s awesome, casting posts are always fun, and Nathan Owens is hot, hot, hot.
Anyway, take a peek if you want otherwise, I’ll be back to posting more often as soon as I finish Book III: The Prophecy. It’s so close – I can practically taste the end…
Here’s an excerpt:
The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 12,000 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Click here to see the complete report.
December 28, 2014
Thursday Thoughts
On a Sunday because I missed Thursday’s post and…
because Tupac is kind of awesome
December 23, 2014
I’ve Got A Name
I know I’m supposed to be finishing Book III in The Sanctum Trilogy, putting an end to Dev and Wyatt’s saga, and I am���kind of.
At least I know their end.
Putting it all down on paper is taking a little longer than expected and I’ve taken advantage of every procrastination tool I’ve acquired over my forty three years of walking this planet. And one of those tools is thinking ahead to my next project.
Which began as just a story and has now morphed into a trilogy.
Yea! because this bitch loves a good trilogy. I would hate to write just one book devoted to my cast of characters. Perhaps that’s thinking a bit too highly of the folks I create, but so be it. Someone’s gotta love them.
So this new story comes to me in starts and fits and when it does, I just have to go with it. Yesterday, as I was driving from my old neighborhood back to my new one, singing along to Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” – …
…which I love. It’s so good, no? But I seem to love everything he sings – cruising down the highway at speeds one should definitely not cruise, letting The Husband’s driving machine breathe a little at 90 miles per hour, it hit me: I have a name for my male main character.
He’s a nasty piece of work, angry, brutal, and unloved. Disabled from birth, forgotten among his brothers, an embarrassment to his father. Loved only by his mother who died when he was young, he’s the holder of a great secret and tremendous power, how he will use them remains to be seen.
And his name is
DUTCH.
