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The Vixenpixie

These are not memoirs

Waiting To Water

“Eish… eish” I said for like the tenth time as I hopped from leg to leg

And for the tenth time, she pulled her upturned nose out of her vibrant looking novel to spare me a glance.

Her eyebrows were asking me the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to.

I sat down, my sheepish smile still stuck on my face

With a heavy sigh, she made to go back to her book but she was way too curious to let it go

“Why won’t you just go?” Exasperation linked strongly with the strange curiosity that was probably bugging her

“Because.”

She waited three seconds

“Because what?!”

I folded my leg under me on the threadbare couch, wincing as my life’s water sloshed and threatened to spill

She would not like that. She really liked that almost-tattered bohemian sofa.

“Because WHAT?!” She asked again, this time grinding her jaw. That girl might need to see a dentist about that. I’d always told her that…Wait, why was she looking at me like that? Oh! She asked me a question.

“There’s something really anticipatory about waiting for a special moment” I said, trying to sound flippant.

“Waiting for a special moment…?”

With the look she now had in her eyes, I must have grown several heads.

“Yes, it’s all in the waiting. ”

But you know what? I wasn’t sure I was being truthful anymore because a little, just a little bit of my life’s water just slipped past my defenses to dampen her beloved red and orange couch.

 

Some Nights

Some nights

She would whisper to me

In sighs and Innuendos

mumbling in hushed sentences and darting eyes

Fear and excitement and interest

Lost within the disclosure and mutterings and undertones

She would hold me, arms outstretched

Divulgence seeping through her every manner

Breathing phrases at me, murmuring words like;

“Say nothing my love, say nothing”

And I would think only to myself

“But I heard nothing dear girl, I heard nothing”

 

 

These Are Not Memoirs

These are not memoirs
These are words that have passed from generation to generation
Through the mouth of babes and crippling women
Words that have latched onto our subconscious
like sea creatures that have caught our attention
wading, floating…
backstroking and surfing
These are not memoirs
They are inbred expectations flogged into the hearts of people of my land.

10 First Date Questions That Aren’t Played Out To Death

It can be awkward to run out of things to talk about on a date. It can be even more awkward to have the same conversations you’ve had on EVERY single date you’ve ever been on.

I know I have!

So, Let me help you out.

Here are 10 suggestions for conversation starters that haven’t been done to death. You can use them, or let them inspire you to come up with your own.

1. What animal, besides humans, do you think would make the best world leaders?
2. If you could take a pill that made you never have a negative thought again, would you?
3. What’s your earliest memory of feeling wonder?
4. What do you think would make this restaurant better?
5. Is there a band that you used to love and can’t stand now?
6. What’s your biggest food-related triumph?
7. Do you think if you could get paid just to be yourself, it would change the way you act? How?
8. Describe the best night of your teenage life.
9. If you had a million dollars that you had to give to charitable causes, how would you spend it?
10. Do you think your name suits you? What would be better? What about my name?

So, are there any questions you would like to ask or be asked on a first date?

Would these interest you?

I Shouldn’t Have

I shouldn’t have let him

advance into my room, into me

from friend, to roommate, to lover

Now one thing must lead to another

excited conversations of the eyes

have been replaced by intense groping and sweaty grabs

now he more than talks to me

he mumbles his words with his lips pressed against mine

all meshy and moist, sometimes cold, other times feverishly hot

and if he eats that damn garlic pasta

I’d have to wash it out of my own mouth

 

I shouldn’t have let him

around, in here, on me

from “hey” to “hi” to “come back please”

I used to walk out the door and not give a damn

now I have to think, I have to wonder

where does he go each night after work?

why can I smell his skin on my sheets?

now I’d cry if he’s been gone too long

waiting for him to come back and cuddle me to sleep

and if I miss dinner,

I know someone else will take care of it

 

I know I shouldn’t have

Let him surround me

ask me where I’m going today

tell me my skirt is too short

command me to lay on the couch and watch tv

but I also know what I shouldn’t have done

I shouldn’t have liked him back.

 

7 Ways To Subtly Mess With Someone

Hi Guys, sorry for disappearing for so long. Life and adulting gets in the way sometimes. Anyway, I’m glad to be back and boy, am I glad to share this post with you. I found this on my Stumbleupon and I know you would love it!

I always enjoy messing about with my friends, having such a laugh and here, I found 7 absolutely fun ways to do just that. Here We Go:

 

1. When I’m eating out with someone and they get up to get another drink or answer the phone, etc, I turn their plate 180 degrees.

2. When I’m walking in front of a stranger and turn a corner, I sprint for the couple of seconds when they can’t see me. By the time they turn the corner, I’m 15-20 metres in front of where I should be.

3. When my neighbors leave notes in the common areas, I add exclamation marks. Always. Just to make every note look a bit more passive-aggressive.

4. When I reply to a coworker’s email, I edit the copy of their message to add misspellings, punctuation mistakes, and things like that. If it turns into a long email conversation, their original message ends up looking like it was written by a monkey.

5. Start random sentences with “Not being racist but…”even though what I say has nothing to do with race at all.
Alternatively, end random sentences with “no pun intended”, even when there is no pun.

6. When people are talking to me, I very slowly open my mouth until they just start to notice, then I close it.

7. I like to play a little game called “How much stuff can I hand you before you really notice.” Whatever is around while we’re talking, I hand it to you, you hold it for a second, we’re still talking, I hand you something else, you set the first thing down. I hand you yet another thing. Pretty soon you’re surrounded with salt shakers and staplers and cups and pens and eventually you stop and notice and you’re all like “Whaaaat?”

 

So, what do you guys think?  Do you have any other ideas?

Do you really have the guts to do this?

The Other

 

Maxine was the name of the woman in the pyjamas and the perfect hair

The one that came when the muddiness arrived to fill my eyes

Maxine would cook and clean, Scrub and Buff

The one whose mind is not easily displaced

Maxine felt no sadness or confusion

The one who is driven not by her happiness

She lived and did and made and created

She who did not give too much, or loved too much

Maxine, The One who knew it all

 

But she would disappear, Maxine would.

How could she stay long?

For I had to wake up and smell the coffee

and unlike her, I had to take off my shoes

and dance ridiculously to the music in my head

I had to get up, get out, stay out

I could be lost in the drafts that slip in from beneath my doors

And I would swing on rainbows that curved over high houses

I could sway, pray, give away

all that it is that seems to have made me

I can only accept that Maxine is not me

We look alike, sound alike,

sit on the porch of my mother’s house and share a cup of tea

We could even go to sleep and wake up in the pretty lime pyjamas

But when night came and the clock struck the hour

 

Maxine is the one that is when I am not.

 

The Parian: OSHUN The Band

Hi Guys,

For me, Music has always translated into the sounds of my heart, the pulse of my desires, the art that rules me.  When I find the right sound, everything revolves around the swirl and rise of crescendos that lie within it.

Oshun’s sound was created just for the creative mind.  For the little bit of nostalgia. For a lot of soul. For a pinch of mysticism. For earnest youth and rebellion.

It’s all authentic.

banneroshunUntitledOshun 2Oshun 3Oshun 4OshunOshun-F-8

You can listen to their music here—> Oshun NYC

I guarantee that you would find some eargasm with them.

 

Have Fun!

Averment of Self

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness

It took me years to understand that this too is a gift”

Tears and Blood

I feel them merge and swirl beneath the surface of my faux-hardened face

They bubble to the layer right at the top, impendent to overflow and spill

maybe even to plunge me in its plethoric depth

It is like not wanting to hurt while wading through a lumbering stream of daggers

My skin left bare to bear each quick cut

Oh wait! That’s what this is

Watching you sleep so soundly while a whirlpool of your words churn and surge

Fighting my eyelids and willing them to stay up

Remembering your words and that I am determined to beat them

That I need to prove that I am not what you say that I am

I am dogged to show you the finesse and poise which you claim you do not see

To sit here till my knees scream from being tightly pressed together, thigh squished against thigh

To sit here with my back arched, stretched side by side with the lines of this high backed chair

Eyes glaring at the distant wall to show you that I am not lazy, that I do not sleep as much as you say that I do

To put my hands, one on top of the other, displaying my delicatesse

I will not shuffle when my hair falls across my face

I will stiffen my neck to avoid the drowsiness that I feel

Because your words, your accusations have become my directives

I will be nothing like what you say I am

I will show you.

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