Let’s Spit On Rainbows & Kill Unicorns

Dead Horse Point state park
Pink is singing Blow Me (One Last Kiss) and I am trying not to chuckle because I think there is a person who will read that and insist it is not coincidence that I am using it in a post.

Probably because I have used the expression but I won’t say any more than that because they are reliably unreliable and they’ll accuse me of trying to press their buttons. Although it might be a fair accusation because at the moment I want to pull their ponytail and ask them to explain why they get to act like a kid and I can’t.

I think I’m going to run an old post called Be Part of My Community sometime next week. It is an old favorite and it is responsible for inspiring me to pull out the Let’s Spit On Rainbows & Kill Unicorns line again.

Or maybe the universe is responsible for making that sucker end up in front of me or maybe it is just coincidence. Doesn’t really matter to me because some of it tickled my fancy hard enough to make me take notice.

Sometimes the kind of attention you get is very different from that which you seek.

The man who said that and I had words today.

He told me he was tired of the whining and carping about life and said it was time to suck it up. I told him that if he didn’t stop yapping I’d put my size 12 boot in his ass and push his face in the mud.

If you knew us well you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Tyler Durden wannabe hit me with a cheap shot or that I got back up and hit him back.

Two of us went at it as only identical twins can do. The problem with fighting your true doppleganger is they really are cut from the same cloth so you never really have a true upper hand.

They are as gifted with the same physical abilities and genetic tendencies so the net result of the battle is you both end up battered and bruised and frustrated because you don’t feel like you have accomplished anything.

We ended up on the ground, backs against a wall and shared a beer.

For a moment we said nothing, just caught our breath and then he asked me to explain what I hoped to accomplish by letting my anger and frustration take free reign.

“I hate when you make sense. Do me a favor and go fuck yourself with something sharp, preferably barbed and rusty.”

He smiled at me and I smiled back and then we laughed and I asked him to pass the bottle of Ibuprofen, a saw and a hammer.

“Finally the man who doesn’t cry searches for something that will truly bring the tears forth. There are better ways.”

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I love this quote.

It is me.

I do things my way, always have and probably always will.

It doesn’t just sum up blogging for me but life. That song in my head I am chasing and the path only I can see inside my mind are proof enough of the validity of these words.

Sometimes I read the words in these posts and try to figure out if the story I am telling is one you can follow. Some tales are easily told and understood because they have a clear beginning, middle and end but not all operate that way.

The more complex and layered ones intrigue me because they require a bit more skill and some more effort.

People talk about the importance of using hooks that encourage new readers to continue reading but I often wonder how to retain those who fall into a different class.

How do you keep the person who has been hanging around long enough to recognize your rhythm and know your style. I am not talking about the people who LOVE your work but those who just LIKE it.

Don’t misunderstand, the LOVERS are important but you treat them differently than the LIKERS.

That’s because the LOVERS give you more opportunity to play with your narrative and dance with reckless abandon.

LIKERS want to hang out with you. They want to spend time and get to know you but they are not always ready to become the lie in bed all day and do nothing but be with you people.

Blow Me (Another Kiss)

Midway through this a memory came floating to the surface.

A thousand miles and change separate us but the music of the night keeps playing as we listen to All I Ask of You and we end up in a long conversation about people, possibilities and whether windows of opportunities that have shut can be reopened.

I tell you that I think I could trust you enough to cry and the conversation moves up, down and around and when we finally hang up I know that you can’t sleep any more than I can.

Something happened.

A door opened and a connection was formed.

Time dissolves and another memory finds its way front and center.

“I won’t ask you to blow me one last kiss. I don’t like the way that sounds, too negative for me. But I won’t let you off the hook either.”

“Oh you won’t, will you?”

“Nope, blow me.”

I watch your face wait for your eyes to catch the smile in mine and to see the Cheshire grin across my face.”

“Another kiss…please.”

Your lips brush against mine and you tell me that one day my big mouth might get me in trouble. I tell you it is not might, it is when and then I ask you to give me the chance to beg for forgiveness.

Another kiss is exchanged and I tell you to remember that I am a storm walker, trouble maker and someone who spits on rainbows and kills unicorns.

“You fell in love with the wrong guy.”

“No, I fell in love with the right one…my guy.”

I look at the ceiling and try to figure out if that last part is a real memory or just a wish. Guess I ought to ask the universe and see what she says.

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6 Comments

  1. Gina November 23, 2014 at 4:54 pm

    I think the universe is a “she” too.

  2. Wendy of the Rock November 23, 2014 at 2:31 pm

    Just jumped over to next weeks re-post possibility…. so much to chew on… newbie blogger with demons… thanks

  3. Julie November 23, 2014 at 4:18 am

    I wouldn’t recommend spitting on rainbows because they start stalking you by doubling, tripling and then leaving pots of gold EVERYWHERE.
    Sounds like love to me.

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