While I am free to come and go from my apartment, tomorrow Juan de Fuca home support has decided to stage some training on oxygen. They decided to stage it at my apartment and called me today to tell me it would take an hour. I told my careworker, “Well, Nurse E. and Nurse H. said it will only be a half hour last week so I am outta here after that.” She just gave a slow shake of her head. What? They can determine long the training will take place in someone else’s apartment? And not only that, they use MY oxygen and my body? For as long as they want? Hey, I have had offers to do that: sometimes on a stage with a pole sometimes up in a room but the offer was, a LOT of money. And from what I understand, this particular medical gang-bang offers no pay for me AT ALL (THEY all get paid however, does that seem a little backward?).
I spent so much time just trying to get free and get up to boxing (and a new volunteer to help me, which turned into a 6 page and extra hour orientation nightmare), that I haven’t had time to think dirty thoughts much less act on them. No breasts, no corset, nada. There is something seriously wrong with my life when I actually KNOW the name of various Fire Inspectors and spend more time calling them, talking to them and thinking about them than movies, manga, anime or even my trip to Japan. Linda and I have the thousand yard stare as we prepare to slide into another weekend where we will swear (as we have for the last four weekends) that THIS week is the week Elizabeth has NO appointments and recovers. Except I already have a Monday and Wednesday appointment and two Tuesday appointments which will take all day. I seriously do not know how other people have the time and energy to be a person with disability. I can’t hack it, let me back into the able bodied world. Today, I went to bed just after 3:00 pm with the phone beside the bed (expecting two calls) and stayed there mostly unconscious until I was helped out when my night care worker came at 6:00. I was like, “If anyone wants to see me….they can break down the door.”
Wait, that’s not true, I have been thinking dirty thoughts or at least attempting to think dirty thoughts. I promised to deliver a couple stories on queer horror. I was like, no problem. Most people think my stories are horror while I think they are full of normal, cute humans that I see all around me. Different points of view I guess. So, having some lesbian love in a horror story is just up my alley. Only the actual story I have to deliver is queer EROTIC horror. And quite honestly, I am crap at erotica. I mean, for one novel, I had this male character and tried to write a hetero love scene and people at the college thought it was parody and were killing themselves laughing. Okay, that’s a tiny clue that maybe you don’t do the erotic well.
But hey, pro writer here, I WILL get that erotic element down, it is just now I need a lesbian erotic story which is ALSO a horror story? Those are two completely different rhythms of stories. Like Anais Nin writing a story about the ocean waves lapping on the wading girl’s labia……and then the shark rips off a leg! So my head is in a pretty weird space right now as I am going, “What if one of them was really into scars......or if one of the girls was dead and was carried around in a footlocker, would that still be a relationship?” I don’t want to do the road of the movie KISSED and do the same old girl loves dead people story. BORING! I know there is a belief overseas that all us Canadians are major pervs (Crash anyone, actually, all of Cronenberg!)
I am thinking of walling people up and kissing them, I am thinking of bugs in the vagina, I am thinking of how the hell do you make a horror story erotic? Someone said Vampires but I am NOT doing any BDSM, and no BDSM vampire crap because while I know people and understand why they do, I don’t, and I am not going to exploit something when I don’t understand it for myself (when I do and am part of it, heck, I’ll exploit it over and over!).
I am thinking about my own past and this particular girl I had a major crush on I call, Danger Girl. She not only ended up with (all) my money but also got me as a teen in clubs sitting next to hard criminals and on boats where they cut drugs. I was into her, everyone was into her, and she knew it. Anyway, she used to use me to tease her boyfriend when she wanted things from him (“Use me!” I was begging inside, “And then use me some more!”) and then we would listen to Tracy Chapman all day. Anyway, she is for me eroticism wrapped up in a nice twisted amoral package (it isn’t like she didn’t like me, is it just she got bored.....quickly). So maybe I can do something with that. It is thanks to her I DIDN’T end up going with another danger girl who could act the nicey nice (while rolling her eyes) and then her hobby, Demolition Derby, as a TEEN. Yeah, no edge on that girl at all. She had invisible razor blades all over her.
So, that’s what I think about these days, any story ideas are welcome. I believe if you listen to the characters they will tell you the story, it is just, do I really want to go down those roads Danger Girls wants to take me? Because I did some BAD things when I was with her, and naughty things, and got kicked out of places; I had NEVER been kicked out of places before much less seen as “your type” before (as in “We don’t need ‘your type’ here you psycho girls). She would get two guys with prison tats all hepped on her and then turn them against each other to see what would happen, and drag me along as comfort confidant. Yup, THAT girl.
Well, I know who I’ll be dreaming of tonight.............errrr, LINDA, that is what I was going to say, LINDA (deep breaths).
3 hours ago