Getting a Clue

GETTING A “CLUE”!

Given the rise in popularity of the “True Crime” genre of entertainment, I decided to improve the Clue board game.


It didn’t seem – to ME, at least – that the theoretical mansion was particularly large or the theoretical murderers particularly adept. I decided to improve your play by adding new rooms (“crime scenes”) and killing objects (“murder weapons”). My generosity isn’t endless, however, so you’re still stuck with Miss Scarlet and Colonel Mustard.

CRIME SCENES:

Attic
Breakfast Room
Cabaña
Den
Eat-in kitchen
Family Room
Gym
Hobby Room
Indoor Pool
Java [the] Hut
Kitchen
Laundry
Media Room
Nursery
Office
Pantry
Quarters
Rumpus Room
Sunroom
Toilet
Underground Pool
Vault
Walk-in Closet
Xylophone Jam Room
Yard, Front/Back/Side/Prison
Zen Garden

MURDER WEAPONS:

Antifreeze
Bare hands
Candelabra Dagger
Electricity
Fire
Glass
Heroin
Icepick / Innuendo Jackknife
Kill Kit / Kindness Louisville Slugger
Mixed Martial Arts
Necktie
Overdose
Plutonium Quill
Rattlesnake
Sword
Talons/ Taser
Uzzi
Vibrator, X-tra Large Water
Y-incision
Ziplock Bag

P.S. YOU’RE WELCOME!!

The Hand

The Hand


I used to be a Somebody
Who’s now content as Nobody
She sits around and speaks in Rhyme
To herself for ALL the time.
Does she burn with growing madness?
Or are Much Words a sign of Gladness?
I will never understand;
I’m just the owner of the Hand.

(Thanks @xposureon for the photo)

RECIPE FOR A POETIC SOUL


I. MUST BE

•Fully right-brain
•Fully left-brain
•Overly-Sensitive to Light
•Unafraid of the Dark

II. MUST POSSESS

1. A PAST Littered With:
•Mistakes
•Traumas
•Regrets
•Memories of Extasy

2. A PRESENT Marked By:
•Pervasive, Persistent Longing
•Innumerable Unmet Needs
•Building Frustration
•Mounting Tension
•Growing Childishness, and an
•Increasing Focus Inwards.

3. A FUTURE Colored by:
•Tides not Turning
•Limited Options
•Fear and Loathing Everywhere
•Faded Beauty, and
•An Inability to Dream Anymore

III: MUST HAVE

•Broad Vocabulary
•Limited Resources
•Hungry Heart
•Thirsty Soul

BAKE FOR AT LEAST 25 YEARS IN TEMPS AS HOT AS HELL (or 900 degrees, to be safe).

The poem’s UNIQUITY


Mine seem to come to me either fully formed,
as if speaking to me through a voice in my head,
or they’re rooted in the flow of inspiration,
where I use a little more deliberation and playfulness.
I think they both make good poems.
every single poem is unique. other poem writers might have the same message and say it differently
or say similar words differently
or the same words extra-consecutively,
so that makes each poem wholly and completely unique.
No one could ever say what you do
the way you do
like you do
how you do
as you do
when you do
just like you
other than you
in your own special way
every single time.
and as far as I’m concerned:
that is the definition of UNIQUITY

The Kind of Girl I Remember

So Snarky

With me, you have to strike while the iron is hot,
And my iron is hot for about 3 days.
I’m not a “ hit her up down the road” kind of girl.

HOWEVER:
If you miss the 3-day window,
Just 2 short days later,
Once I’ve lost any mental trace or shred of recollection of you,
You can start over.

GENERATIONAL FATIGUE

FROM YOUTUBE OF COURSE

They were all making snarky comments over there calling Amber’s lawyer a “Karen,” so I was forceed to jump in:

Could someone please explain the official criteria for being a “Karen?” No one has ever been able to, and unfortunately I have aged into what might be considered official “Karen Territory.” Fortunately, it DOES beat the alternative.

Bonus points if you can name all the generation names because I haven’t got a clue! I thought Millennials were anyone born after the Millennium (aka “teenagers”), so somebody please school me on this topic.

I’d hate to be a Karen without knowing it.

WHY I AM NOT A MURDERER


After watching a true crime video (YouTube know where) about Murder-For-Hire as an Industry, I have some newly-acquired information to share.

The main Victims are The Spouse and The Top Motives are:

1) Life Insurance Policy and
2) He doesn’t want to be with Her anymore [for whatever reason].

I used to actually think about Getting Married Again, even up until a maybe a year ago. Don’t tell anybody because I don’t anymore.

However, if someone SWEPT ME OFF MY FEET, I would insist on the getting the following Pre-Nuptial Agreement SIGNED & NOTARIZED FIRST:

1. NEVER take out a life insurance policy on Me. EVER. I have contracted with the following Reporting Agency which will alert me if a life insurance policy is ever taken out in my name, and
2. Have the guts to tell me you want to kill me rather than actually kill me. Please. I will promise the same in return.

Do keep in mind, Murder-for-Hire levels the playing field and there are some angry females out here. TRUST me.

Most of us, according to the video, don’t act on it. The ones who get “stung” trying to order a hit from an undercover cop are positively CHILLING.

The main reason Murdering Someone isn’t an option for me? There was a term We used to get pretty riled up about Last Millennium called “Mutually Assured Destruction.” I think it describes what happens to both the Murder Victim, the MurderER, and Both Parties’ respective “Loved Ones” (even though I don’t currently have any right now).

I’d ask you if you’ve heard of MAD, but I’m pretty sure the term was disarmed from our Collective Lexicon 20-30 years ago.

DIGITAL COMPETITION

I’ve noticed within the last 6 months or so that single Men prefer Technology’s Version of Love to that of a Living, Breathing, REAL WOMAN. Or at least the Love of THIS Real Woman! These guys find digital gratification through digital images. For some, the sourcing of these images even crosses criminal lines.

Sadly [for me at least], “This” is what passes for “Love” in 2022 – at least for SOME men. And “Some Men” are the “Only Men” I meet!

Not that any of them actually admit to it so bluntly. And I MYSELF admit a Woman has to be PRETTY jaded to see so much UGLY-ness everywhere!

But I AM, so I DO.

In The Digital Woman, I see the same Flaws and Imperfections I HAVE – that ALL WOMEN HAVE – expertly Airbrushed from public view. The Orchestrators of Digital Love shouldn’t waste their time and money on Erasure Efforts because they’re entirely unnecessary; the Combination of Ease, 24/7 “Yes”-ness, and Nakedness will Reduce and Seduce a Man into the kind of Cyberblindness begging to grant Cyberpasses.

So MY romantic future looks very bleak – at least to Me! And listen folks: I’m cynical and jaundiced enough to realize I AM the Only Divorced Person My Age. Yet I was STILL foolishly hoping for one Last (long overdue!) Passionate Love Affair before I exchange Occasional Vulgarity for Perennial Perfection.

Not Anymore and Not Because death is hovering or any other Reasonable Reason. I’ve simply Lost Romantic Hope and Discarded all Nonexistent Intimate Expectations. You would, too, if Your Dating Pool preferred your karaoke videos to their NEARBY, flesh-covered, Large-AS-Life Counterpart.

I’ve decided to Not Give a Crap. After all, I enjoy my karaoke videos, too.

SO DIRTY

The way I look at it, Life double-fucked me.

It first fucked me in Childhood by preventing me from developing healthy coping skills (parents didn’t fret over their kids’ feelings too much back then).

I was DOUBLE-fucked because I needed those coping skills to weather the unspeakable horrors and tragedies Adulthood had in store for me.

Some time after aged 30, during 15 years of 15 major surgeries and Plenty Of Other Crap, I began coping the only way that worked for me: chemically.

I found I needed pain and anxiety medication to get through the day. Both ANY DAY and EVERY DAY.

Truth.

This always serves as the Official Reason People Who Gave Up On Me give for Giving Up On Me. I honestly don’t think I was that bad, but I wasn’t around for most of it. I was too numb.

Yet, with no Outer Pressure and DESPITE having minimal coping skills and a practically-nonexistent support system, I threw a giant cosmic wrench at myself. For no reason whatsoever, I chose to resort to my Chemical Coping Skills ONLY when they were desperately needed. Which is practically never, much to my own shock!

This choice has delivered me to Emergency Rooms on numerous occasions, certain I was in the middle of a stroke or heart attack, so great is my pain, anxiety, and nausea from both.

Remarkably almost-sober (don’t take my cannabis away from me; it helps with the nausea!), my thoughts often scare the ever-living shit out of me.

I personally find this ridiculous journey upon which I have embarked an extremely courageous one all the same.

I now Actively Disappoint rather than just Passively. Maybe you have to have been on a Similar Journey to understand what this means, but I think it means “I’m proud of myself❣️”

So Folks Who Want To Vilify Me: Stand in Line.

The person suspiciously ABSENT from that line will be ME.

If You’re an Ocean

If You’re an Ocean

If you’re an Ocean contemplating WHATEVER with WHOMEVER, but he’s a Lagoon: DON’T DO IT!! Even if you have Nobody Else!

Time spent Alone, as an Ocean, means less time masquerading as a Lagoon.

Imagine the Thunderous Wildness of The Ocean contained within a lagoon?

It’s Utterly Inconceivable.

The Inner Implosiveness of it would be catastrophic to the likes of which… Just Entropy Magnitude. Black Hole.. Victim Mentality. Terrible Tragedy. To the degree of: Exponential, stratospheric, perpendicular, geographic, unidimensional, one-sided, stereotypical, unilateral, fore-thinking, foreshadowing,neverbefore-seen, unintentionally-intended, once-in-a-lifetime, overly dramatic, HORMONALLY OUTRAGED levels!!

NEW “SEGMENT”: IPHONE POSTS FROM OTHER PLACES

I’ll specify if it’s a text message, a YouTube comment, an Instagram Bio idea, a Facebook post [snooze], or the mother lode: a dating app comment made by ME!! Basically ANY comment made by me!

I won’t give any context other than those general categories. I’ll try to ensure my comments are holistic and self-explanatory. I will provide NO IDENTIFYING INFORMATION about ANY private individual, so NO FEARS ANYONE!!

I said: Your FEARS ARE UNFOUNDED!!

Anyway, I’ll use the same photo (for those of you who use photos) each time, and we will COMMENCE TONIGHT!!

TEXT

I don’t think we’re particularly compatible in a variety of ways I don’t intend to describe with my right thumb at the moment.

A TASTE OF IT

I may be smart but really dumb
At MY age to sign up to Run
And Chase You and other Sons-of-Guns
Who want to house me Under Thumb.

It’s time I find Myself a Clue,
And Get the Hell AWAY from You!

I’ll hold Myself both Tall and Free.
Newly Freed, I’m Free Indeed,
Bursting with the Fully Free
Freedom Only Found in Me.


(Thanks to @nicholasampson for the photo)

FRIENDS GET HARD TO MAKE!

One Lesson I have Learned with age?
Friends get Really Hard to Make!

Take Sacred Bonds for Granted?
You’ll cry Nights Alone and Stranded

With no Friend to Catch your Tears;
Friends get Scarce with Passing Years.

When you have a Dearth of Them,
[Boyfriends – a whole Earth of Them!]
Which Ties are the Preciousest?

Those who clearly, dearly, yearly, and most sincerely
Truly Want What’s Best for Us❣️

Thanks for the perfect photo, @hannahbusing).

GASP OF AIR

Death claims all the Victory
In this life given to me.
It owns the very parts of Me
Which mingled with One’s chemistry
To build a brand new entity,
Just to have him ripped from me.

Who was the enemy?
My own womb, specifically
Betrayed us all, ejecting
This tiny piece of Humanity.
Scrap to you? Not to me.

I still ache longingly
To nurse and cradle this piece to me.
Twenty years and constant suffering,
More Death than Life if you ask me
Since his and fellow siblings’ lives
Were deemed by Someone “Not to Be.”
And Mother never made of me.

What rules for such a Tragedy?
No One knew, apparently.
All Baby Bumps avoided me,
As if my full-term “inability To carry”
An unspeakable disease
Which could be passed contagiously.

Alone, I bear their Memories;
Always My Responsibility.
Now I’ve become too fatigued
To honor them effectively;
They only Live in Memory.

I’m not too proud to beg your sympathy.
I’ll even make this plea upon my knees:
Would you be willing, Momentarily,
To hold my children in YOUR hearts
So I can breathe?

NEVER TOO PROUD…

I know I said earlier I was basically a nice person who had simply been banged up by Life too much.

So I feel my Conscience telling me to apologize to the people at the 24-hour CVS for my Public Meltdown the other day when they refused to fill my post-oral-surgical antibiotics because ANOTHER CVS filled the RX first.

I was in a lot of pain, it was raining cats and dogs, and my flu-beleaguered, blind and deaf 80-year-old Mother was doing all the driving that morning.

And you WERE a little snarky [admit it!].

Nonetheless, I understand “Rules Exist For A Reason.”

But I admitted I bear PHYSICAL, MENTAL, SPIRITUAL, and EMOTIONAL scars.

So while I apologize [I really do], I just don’t understand:

WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE??

WHY MUST I ALWAYS DO YOUR JOBS FOR YOU!!???

NOBODY HERE CARES IF WE DIE IN AN ACCIDENT ON THE WAY TO THE OTHER CVS!!

AND THEY DON’T CARE AT MY INSURANCE COMPANY EITHER!!

NEITHER DOES THE ENTIRE US GOVERNMENT!!

NOT A SINGLE HUMAN BEING IN THIS ENTIRE WORLD GIVES A CRAP ABOUT ANYONE ELSE!!

SO I WILL BE BOYCOTTING THIS STORE UNTIL THE NEXT TIME I NEED A REFILL OF SOMETHING‼️

AND QUIT TAKING ME FOR GRANTED ALL THE TIME WHILE YOU’RE AT IT!

((okay?))

My Added Benefits

I’m so transparent, the only thing dazzling is my Pancreas.

I come with the added benefit of 1) hating on myself half of the time and 2) thinking I’m irresistibly adorable the other half.

The whole combination is exhausting for EVERYONE, particularly ME.

My Shiny Rusted Face

MY SHINY RUSTED FACE

I thought it must be Squeaky Clean
The World I Shined for All To See
My Truth a Lie of base Identity:
I’d scraped off all the Ugly Parts,
Burned out both the moles and warts.
I bleached my Soul; I bleached my Hair;
The smallest effort never spared.
I took comfort that you Envied Me,
For once you thought you glimpsed in me
Something; All I sought to seek
Willing to Not Seek a Thing
If I could only Feel Again,
No Lengths Too Far
To Steal Your Trust
I’ll Sell You Gold
And Leave You Rust.