Posts tagged “Soulmates

I’m Not Cute

I usually write something vaguely romantic and full of longing for birthdays—especially for Asher’s—but this year, I’m so caught up in my own…I’m not even sure if “fears” is the right word…that I wrote this instead.

Not a fan of the title (see above), but I don’t have anything better.

I’m not a shallow girl,
I’m no imitation
sugar-coated dream.
I’ve been to hell and back.
You’d best believe.

I don’t trust
the Guardians of the Gates—
one slip,
one wrong tone
and it’s too late.

They think they can help,
but they don’t know
the power they wield.
They see smiles and
I see flashes
of razor-bladed kindness
and the end of hope.

They don’t know
that their words
are a paintbrush.

Choose rightly and
I am depicted as my true self:
tested and annealed;
repeatedly thrown into the fire
and not perished.

Choose wrongly and
I’m a cute little girl,
constructed of maple cream
and pastel swirls.

Not thirty-five,
but five.

A two-dimensional princess
who has never been hurt,
screamed at,
or wondered if death
would be preferable to life.

A pillow of sweet fluff,
oblivious to pain.


Nay, Guardians,
turn your gazes aside.
If you cannot reveal to him
the me that I am,
I’d rather keep to myself
and hide.

It is better to be alone
and unfulfilled
than to be coupled
and misunderstood.


My best work?

Probably not.

But it fulfills the goal of writing a poem for him on his birthday, and writing is always good exercise, no matter how neutrally you feel about the outcome.

So here's…


I can no longer find
the passion I once felt;
but in the bigger picture,
I imagine it doesn’t matter.

As long as one part
of my heart
remains faithful to you—
one part of one part—
you are there,
and perhaps
that is all that is needed.

Life moves on, and
I admit that I’ve lost track,
that I have to rely on others
to do my tracking for me.
But as long as I have a friend
who finds joy in the hunt,
I’ll never lose you at all.

You were my knight
I always called you to the fight
but now I stand and fight alone.

As long as we have
the Valley of Sweet Memory,
I hope you’ll remember me
and know me as one ever loyal.

The Story of My First Story

I crave your pardon in advance if I’ve already told this story. I think I’ve shared it in bits and pieces over the years (and mentioned a little on my bibliography page), but do not believe I’ve ever posted the entire story at once.


When I was in high school, I dated a guy named Kyle1 through the end of his senior year and the start of his time in community college. Kyle was taking a media issues and television production class with Professor Parker2, whom he got to chatting with one day and confessed his love for the work of director Sam Raimi. It turned out that the professor knew Dr. Octavius at Michigan State, who’d had Sam in class many years ago, so Professor Parker put Kyle and the doctor in touch. To Kyle’s great joy, Dr. Octavius still talked to Sam from time to time and promised to get Kyle an interview with him the next time he came back to Michigan3.

Not the real Professor Parker and Doctor Octavius. Sorry, y’all.

I want to say, “I don’t know why I said this”, but I do know. I said it, but I also thought there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that it was going to happen.

I had the audacity to say, “Maybe you should ask Sam if I can be in one of his future movies.”

And Kyle had the temerity to do it.


I need to step back from the story a minute, because I believe it’s important to tell you: I have absolutely no reason to believe Kyle was lying to me. Not then, not ever.7

First, because he was deeply in love with me. If I had loved him in return, we would’ve been married several years ago, and his children would also be mine.

Second, I made him tell me the number he was calling, and my friends and I have both verified that it belongs/belonged to Renaissance Pictures (Sam’s production company). It wasn’t some audio spoof that Kyle set up somehow—not only is he not that clever, but the calls I mentioned happened at random times over several years, making it difficult to maintain a phone number and recording for that long. (Plus, this went down in 2001—before the era of Skype, Google Voice and a zillion other such apps.)4


Not that that explanation makes it sound any less crazy when I say “they agreed”.

When Kyle called the first time, he spoke to someone who claimed he was Grant Curtis (pictured with co-producer Laura Ziskin), Sam’s assistant.5, 6 Despite having no demo reel, no resume, no headshot, no audition video or screentest, “Grant” claimed they could use me in the third movie as the Green Goblin‘s long-lost daughter. (I don’t know how they’d stretch the following story out so far, but I wasn’t thinking in terms of that at the time.)

The story would go that—ever paranoid—Norman Osborn had prepared for the event of his death by not trusting his son (Harry) with his fortune. (Nice father, right? But if you’ve seen the Raimi movies, you know this is normal.) Instead, ownership of his company and all his assets reverted to the sister Harry never knew he had, and it would be up to Harry to track her down if he wanted his inheritance. Nothing was ever decided on whether he’d know how to find her, only that she was living in Australia (which I later asked to be changed to Ireland).

I also recall submitting a list of names from which they could choose a forename and middle, and they settled on Ophelia Rhiannon. (I’d hoped they’d settle on Ophelia…it looks So Very Proper next to her brother’s name.)

He could've been my first movie daddy. Seriously.

Sidebar: if you’ve seen the Amazing Spider-Man movies, you’ll know that Asher8 was involved in the Spiderverse, however briefly. We’ll get to that momentarily. He deserves his own separate rant, after all.

2020 sidebar: and rant it shall be, because my note to myself reads (profanity intact): I am NOT KILLING OFF ASHER, so you can STICK THAT IN YOUR FUCKING PIPES AND SMOKE IT, BITCHES!

Goodness gracious!

But here’s where my memory gets fuzzy, since this was 2001 or so.

I know they stalled.


They eventually decided they were “going a different way” and they didn’t want me anymore.

Most people would give up, but you can’t give a novelist a storyseed and expect her to ignore it because of copyright.

At least not if you’re me!

Page 2: Ophelia, a revision of Ophelia and Sevens
(+ “No, I’m not killing my Hollywood crush!”)

(I’m making these a link now, so you don’t have to look for the tiny pagination.)

1Name changed to one of his favorite characters (Modern Age version, according to Wiki) less to protect his identity and more because his real name is boring. Plus, I had a long-term crush on a guy whose name was actually Kyle, so it kind of all fits?

2I don’t know these professors’ real names, so I’m using Spider-Man characters.

3Sam grew up in Michigan, and one of his brother is an emergency room doctor in the Detroit area. The other is a frequent guest star in his movies.

4During the course of writing this, I realized that I’d never asked Kyle if he ever lied to me. So I finally did, and he said no. Which I believe, because—as I said before— I know he loved me.

5That doesn’t make too much sense now when you check his IMDb page and discover that he wasn’t credited as Sam’s assistant back then; but you could also argue that it was meant as “assistant producer” or some such, and you’d be partially correct.

6Kyle spoke a few times with another gentleman who said he was Grant’s assistant, but I can’t remember which times anymore, so I’m leaving him out.

7The numbers got mucked up because I started this in 2018 and didn’t want to rearrange them when I came back to work on this in 2020. Anyway, I found out in 2019 that he was lying and had possibly lied to me by the time I started this post. But probably not about this. (If anyone was lying it was someone on the other end to him.)

8I have such a massive crush that it renders me into painful shyness…to the point where I don’t want to say that I have a crush on Chris Cooper. So I call him by a nickname; or rather, the name I came up with for a storyseed after I discovered my affections. His character’s name was Asher, and it stuck—especially when I discovered that the Hindi word for “blessing” is aasheervaad. (And my Patroness is a Hindu goddess, so it fits. 😉 )

Fresh Poetry

It could be fifteen years ’til the next poetry anthology, so let’s make the most of it…

Some Days



Some days,
I feel like
I want to run
and jump into your arms.
I feel like
I want to forget myself;
forget him,
forget them…
forget everything I stand for.
I want to forget
the vows I made:
to marry only him,
to mate with only him,
to love only him.
Some days,
I want to make you stay with her,
and some days,
I want to say,
“Fuck her!”


Some days,
I want you to hold me.
Some days,
I want to rest my head
in the crook of your neck;
to feel you breathing,
to feel your chest rise and
fall against mine.
Some days,
I want to forget
that I ever thought wrong of you.
Some days,
I want to forget
your troubles,
forget your past.
Some days,
I want you
to claim me as your own.
And then,
some days,
I remember your lips are poison.



I don’t know why
I keep running back to you.
I don’t know why
I’d die to feel you.
I don’t know why
I want you to love me.
You love her.
You’re loyal to her,
you’re sweet on her…
I’ve seen you with her;
you’d die without her!


And me?
I have my love.
I have my love,
with his soft gray eyes,
his sandy brown hair;
every line upon his face
defining every moment of his life,
whether suffering
or joy.
I have wispy memories
of many lifetimes past,
many marriages past,
many children past.
I have memories
of every moment,
every breath
spent in his arms,
looking into his eyes,
feeling the touch of his heart.



I have the truest love
in all the world…
yet some days,
I still want you.

36 Stupid Actors…One VERY Angry Dayanara

Bet you never thought you’d hear me say this in a sentence: I am sick with rage. And it’s all James Remar’s fault.

Yup, that’s right…one of my famous rants is headed your way, ladies and gentlemen, and my sweetheart is the target. Step back, sit down and buckle up!



If you’re the sort of person who keeps an ear to the Hollywood ground (or just follows Seamus Dever [of Castle]), you might be aware of the fact that the Screen Actors’ Guild and the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists are looking at merging. But have you heard this?

That’s right…my “boyfriend” and a bunch of his Hollywood buddies are trying to stop the vote to merge SAG and AFTRA.

How does this affect me? My friend Keely, a sometime actress and voiceover artist (and disciple of David H. Lawrence XVII–the creepy puppemaster from Heroes) is in AFTRA. And I was really excited at the prospect of her joining SAG, because I knew that would open tons of doors for her and greatly affect her livelihood. So my sweetheart is (indirectly) attacking people like Keely…and that feels like an attack on me.

Seamus said that it’s because a lot of the actors have never worked in television, so they have no idea how a SAG/AFTRA merger might affect AFTRA members.

My response?

If it’s truly an issue of “they don’t work in TV and don’t know any better” then James Remar has no fucking business signing on the dotted line. I know he started in movies, but his primary source of income is now in television. He should be thinking about the consequences of his actions on his coworkers.

I tried to convince myself that he decided to join the lawsuit after thinking about it a long time and coming to a well-reasoned conclusion. But now I’m not so sure.

Isn’t it a nice little gift to his Dexter buddies that might not be in the Screen Actors’ Guild? How about what a great “thank you” it must be to all the people he’s worked with every time he’s guest starred on a show? And what kind of example is he making for his children, especially Jason, who has stuck his toe into the pools of both acting and modeling?


Okay, so maybe my ardor has cooled a little since I first heard the news around 2:30. But I’m still pissed at Jamie and want to put my foot in his ass for making such a boneheaded decision.