Embarrassment
Some More Thoughts On My Writing Difficulties
Introduction Although I publish a lot on Vocal I do have difficulties in writing, and this generates a lot of anxiety in me. I am lucky enough to be able to pull ideas and subjects almost out of the ether, to actually create a Vocal story, while I never seem to hit a writer's block I do seem to continually have the anxiety that goes with that.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 7 months ago in Confessions
THE GOLDEN AGE GLITCH: Trump's Own Derangement Syndrome
It started with the pens. Obama’s pens. Gold-plated, slender, "diplomatic" pens that looked like they belonged in a museum for losers. When I sat down at that Resolute Desk, I could still smell the faint scent of Dijon Mustard and compromise lingering in the drawers. He had signed the JCPOA--the "Worst Deal in History," a total disaster, a real low-energy document--with one of those pens. I knew right then, if I was going to fix the world, I had to rip that paper into so many pieces it looked like confetti at one of my political rallies... I have the biggest rallies.
By Meko James 7 months ago in Confessions
My Vocal Bad
Image from Pinterest Introduction You may think that this is going to be a negative post, it will hopefully be seen as positive and supportive to everyone in the Vocal Facebook Groups and that immediately has given me an idea. I often list my favourite Vocal Groups at the end of some of my posts. If I take that list and turn it into a pseudo poem then I can just attach it to relevant posts going forward, so it will appear here as well.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 7 months ago in Confessions
My Unknown Confession. Content Warning.
Yes, let's start confessing in this world of a new life as progress comes. I am happy even though uncertain of control they use against us in this day and time. The damages I see to education though I fear maybe forever haunting those effected. I fear I get towards this life is a hidden slave trade of children after being noted by a judge that holds. I still feel it goes against freedom and the fear of losing freedom is certain in my mind. I would not want to see children traded for food or life style especially further discomforted by a unwanted life style being forced by a different education. When the Federal Government came out uncertain and spoke to myself I was shocked from just seeing the condition of the unrealistic possibilities a corporal on a trail and not a ranger, wow! Hmm, as I wonder what advantage cops have over rangers in this day and age out a trial where the animal kingdom plays such a great influence in which we are under. Will the rangers be more limited to use over them in control with 9-1-1 and a different securing of Homeland.
By Jeffrey Allison7 months ago in Confessions
Wrong
I knew what I was doing. I had a plan. I was confident that I was right. I always am. But in this road trip, the other guy was driving because it was his car, so even though I know I am a far better driver than him, I still let him drive, although his driving did annoy me as I gritted my teeth.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 7 months ago in Confessions
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow—it was a phrase Mira had first heard in a classroom where dust floated lazily in streaks of afternoon sunlight. Her literature professor had recited it slowly, like a spell, explaining how time could stretch endlessly forward, carrying both hope and despair in its wake.
By Ibrahim Shah 7 months ago in Confessions
I Haven't Spoken to My Twin
THE MYTH OF TWIN CONNECTION 🔗 Everyone who learns that I have an identical twin sister immediately says some variation of "that must be so amazing, you must be so close, do you feel each other's pain, can you read each other's minds" and I smile and nod because the alternative is explaining that I have not spoken to my twin sister in five years and that the bond everyone assumes is magical and unbreakable broke under the weight of differences that our genetic identity was supposed to prevent but that grew wider with every year until the two people who shared a womb and a face and a childhood could no longer share a conversation without it ending in argument, resentment, and the particular pain of being hurt by someone who looks exactly like you 💔
By The Curious Writer7 months ago in Confessions
I Read My Dead Mother's Diary 📖
THE BOX IN THE ATTIC 📦 Six months after my mother's death from pancreatic cancer I finally gathered the courage to sort through her belongings, a task I had been avoiding because touching her things made her absence concrete in ways that simply knowing she was gone did not, and in a box in the attic labeled "personal" in her careful handwriting I found seven leather-bound journals spanning from 1987 to 2019, thirty-two years of daily entries that documented her inner life with a honesty and depth that she never displayed in conversation with me or anyone else in the family, and I sat on the attic floor surrounded by dust and old furniture and read my mother's secret thoughts and discovered that the woman who raised me was not the person I believed her to be 😢
By The Curious Writer7 months ago in Confessions
The Playlist He Made
How a Stranger's Music Healed What Therapy Couldn't TRACK ONE: THE DISCOVERY The playlist appeared on my Spotify account on a Wednesday afternoon six weeks after my divorce was finalized, a collection of thirty-seven songs titled "For the Girl Who Forgot How to Sing" shared by a user whose profile name was just the letter M and whose avatar was a photograph of a piano in an empty room, and I did not know anyone with this profile and I almost deleted it as spam except that the first song on the list was "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver which was my favorite song, a song I had listened to on repeat during the worst nights of my failing marriage when I would sit in my car in the driveway unable to go inside because the silence between my husband and me had become more threatening than the loneliness of the car, and the odds of a random spammer choosing this specific song as the opener of a playlist addressed to a girl who forgot how to sing seemed too coincidental to dismiss.
By The Curious Writer7 months ago in Confessions
The Anatomy of a "Quick" Fix
It began at 3:14 AM on a Tuesday. The world was silent, except for the rhythmic, mocking tick-tick-tick emanating from the drywall behind the upstairs toilet. Most men—sane men, men with hobbies like woodworking or extreme taxidermy—would have heard that sound and thought, "Ah, the house is settling." They would have rolled over and dreamt of lumber, or other very-capable type of man things... not me.
By Meko James 7 months ago in Confessions
