I gonna do it. This short story contest. Dunno what I'm going to write. Don't even have a clue, but maybe it will get me to write again. I mean seriously write. Or at least for a week or so. Wizards, war, witches, or wildsex? What should be my topic/plot? I dunno. Since I got the wild hair up my ass about five minutes ago I suppose ome thought would be in order.

Otherwise things aer pretty drab around here. Not enough sex, not enough money and to add to the cliche' not enough beer(video games). Not like I drink beer that much, but I have to appear normal even if I'm not. If not, I could be sent to a geek rehab hospital. "Hello my name is Bob and I'm a geek."

A small echo of response from the other geeks, "Hello Bob."
I'm not just a member, I'm the president!


Okay so I'm probably not that much of a geek. I do occasionally talk to a member of the opposite sex. There are times when I travel outside. I play basketball at noon. And many other non-geekie things. But I'm not a stud. I wonder what life would have been like if I was a stud. You know. A man's man. Lets say I worked on cars, fixed up the house, and had a few beers at the local pub every Friday night with 'the guys". Made sure I was main streamed, didn't get hyper over 'Lord of the Rings', Far Side comics and didn't read a book a week or so. Hell I don't even know what a typical guy really thinks and is. I mean I think about sex all the time so I guess that would be part of it, but what would happen if I didn't have the geekie stuff in my life? I know I'd probably drink a lot more and it would have to be a particular brand of beer. Would I smoke? I dobut that... Now how the hell did I get here when I started off about a silly writing contest that don't mean a hill of beans to many people?

Until next time...

Flesh. Warm, silky, and long legs underneath the covers. When I wake up in the morning all I want to do is roll over, place my hand above her knee and trail my palm up the back of her thigh until I reach her ass. Then she would stir, but my hand would find its way to her stomach, my fingers might tease her belly button and the tickle sensation would back her body into mine. We'd lay in bed snuggled in our blankets, the crisp autumn air struggling to get in, but our place is next to each other. I hear her purr as my hand gently travels up over her ribs and touches the tips of her nipples. They spring to life as I then cup her breast in my hand. Then my hand returns back down, retracing her body with a gentle massage waking her up to the new day.

Sometimes we would make love. Usually not with a lot of foreplay, but with the sensation of being inside, close and together. Becoming one before the day starts. The world is brutal enough without the impact of feeling your woman has faith in you. Starting the day alone sacrifices humanity.

It's beyond sex. The closeness of a body so fine and sexy in your grasp. All you can do is think about pleasing that person and making her delight in your presence.

I guess I have to realize that pleasuring a woman goes beyond the physical, but emotional and mental. I wish I knew how to do that. I think I've forgotten (or really never knew) how to connect with someone on all three levels. I need to control my patience and learn how to listen better without trying to interject my opinions. Maybe then, I'll find someone soft and warm to wake up too next that will find delight in my touch.

Hey all...Thought I'd post here again. Wow..another post in almost two months. Stop him! He is writing WAY too much.

If you haven't seen the movie Serenity please do. It is a wonderful Sci-Fi movie and I think one of the best this year.

Oh well I'll try to write more laters...

cya

In recent days, I've had that spark to regain my former passion. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was that voice from the past that snuck up on me and planted the illusionary seeds into my brain.

My problem is I don't know where to begin. What should I write about? It isn't that I don't have the imagination to write something, but what do I want to 'say'. The horrid truth about good or great writing is that the story must say something when someone has finished reading it. I've often wrote many short stories, but in reality most of my best work has been done as scenes. This isn't a revalation to me, I've always known this and I believe it has been a major stumbling block to doing something that I would like to do.

Even here I'm writing this just so I can get in the practice of coming up with sentences again. It isn't taking a lot of thought, but it is constructing words together.

'What do I want to say." I need to find a truth that I can grind into a plot. At this point in time it doesn't matter what type of fiction it is as long as it is something I can believe in. The thread of life that will carry my story not in action, but in deed. This thread no matter how thin needs to be there so I feel whoever reads it will come away with a reason of why they wanted to read my book.

That's all I have to do....no problem there.

Been a while since I've updated this thing. I'm not sure why I'm posting on here. I felt like I should write something. Even it is to show people that I'm alive. I joined an on-line writing group and I'm writing little shorts for it. I'm still in a writing slump. I don't write for myself, I write for other people. I need to start enjoying what I write, sort of like when I write a neat computer program.

Well I'm quite tired. Maybe I'll update this again soon.

I sigh. I realize its my father's birthday tomorrow. Heck I don't even know if he is still alive and to be honest not sure how old he is. He must have been born in 1938. At least that is the year that sticks out in my mind. That would make him about 66 years old. But I really don't care. And it has nothing to do with me today. And again I think, why am I pondering this useless clump of garbage when there is so much other refuse to digest.

Work is the only thing in my life. Other than being ill this past weekend. It got so bad I hugged the throne for a few moments and got a technicolor view of the contents of my stomach. I save the even more colorful details for a memoir book or something in my sixties, but it floored me out. Which really bugged me because I accepted a job with Kraft and I had hoped to get most of it done during the time I wallowed in misery beneath the comfort of my blankets.

Don't even get me started about where I am in my writing. I haven't given it any time for the past couple of weeks. Not that I don't have anything to write, but I just don't have the time. But after this week things should calm down for a bit and I'll be able to continue on with it.

Enough about me.

Work is crushing me. Although I did go see the lawyer to start the incorporation process. I guess I could have done it myself, but the lawyer seems like a heck of a guy and isn't charging me so much I have to worry about how I'm going to pay bills next month.

How busy am I? I'm working on my current project. They want another project in April. I have a proposal due by the end of the week for another company. It looks to be about an 800 hour project. I was called today by Kraft to write a small program (a 3 day affair or so). I have an upcoming meeting with a company to handle their customizing for Solid Works as well as doing support work. And the guy that is helping me with Greenheck has a company that might want us to do some work on a project this summer. Just a few irons in the pot. Not to mention some erronous reports from people that tell me they will keep me in mind if they need me.

I've been told to stop piddling around and get writing. I wish I was piddling, but my mind gets so fried after a day of programming and writing technical documents that it is hard to get into the stream of writing. Maybe I should try writing at the beginning of the day. I've never really tried writing in the morning, but I guess that might help.

I bought a FoxTrot graphic novel. Its becoming one of my all-time favorite comics. I can really relate to almost all of it. I get a giggle a two from almost every page.

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