Bad Boys, Nice Guys, and Female Gym Teachers Part 2

In Part 1 of the above, I continued the story of how I became interested in writing, from innocent rhymes to my mother to racy novellas to winning a high school award.  Unfortunately, no one thought to refer me to a college with a decent writing program.  I was like the Oliver Twist of writing … Continue reading

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Bad Boys, Nice Guys and Female Gym Teachers

My enjoyment of writing began early, as I described in a previous post Pretty Girls, Phallic Symbols, and the Mysterious Human Brain.  Starting with childish tributes to my mother’s beauty (almost as soon as I could write), I soon became more sophisticated.   By age 11, I was regaling my friends with a novella written in daily installments.  As we walked to school, they listened, wide-eyed, to a growing tale of deep mystery.  It was set in London, with a lovely young heroine who had recently lost her mother.  As she visited the cemetery one foggy, lonely night… Continue reading

Food and Drink and Love and Sex and…Health???

 So far, this blog is chronicling how I came to be interested in the topics of food, sex, love, relationship, health and nature – enough to link them in my book in progress, Licking the Spoon.  My first food was breast milk, the best food for an infant, only I don’t remember it.  What I do remember was the sexy feeling I got…

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Pretty Girls, Phallic Symbols and the Mysterious Human Brain

I don’t know why, but I wrote my first poem when I was six.  It was an ode to female beauty that started, “Her face was the color of peaches and cream, with strawberry juice in between.”  Not exactly subtle, huh.  Born already of stories about blushing princesses and sleeping beauties that so shape the young lives of women.  I say women and not girls because I think that the images and parables of such stories, though created in youth, last for a lifetime – even when we decide that we don’t want them to…

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Breast Milk and Burgers

 My first food was breast milk, and I hope yours was, too:  A finer cuisine for an infant just does not exist.  Add to that the fact that it is usually served up by a chef with soft arms, an hypnotic heartbeat, and loving eyes, and I feel quite fortunate to have ever feasted at such a deli.  In fact, the bonding that occurs with nursing is the start of a person’s ability to love someone (‘attach’) later.

But as was typical of the times, I soon moved on…

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