Author Archives: Guy Oliver

S’mores and Other Tasty Tidbits

The first thing she said to me was, ”You know, for a long time I used to think you were a bitch…”  Just to be clear, this is how people frequently greet me at parties, so at first I didn’t make much of it.

Cybil Stepford

To me, this is a blog opening  with no equal and I now find myself utterly smitten.  Cybil isn’t your ordinary girl.  In fact she’s really more like a guy S'mores (4071) - BSP Assignment #206005than a girl, preferring whiskey rather than margaritas, and beer rather than mojitos, which is one of only a dozen things about her that I have come to adore.  What I love about her most, though, is her writing.

In a strange way her writing reminds me of my own, and in an equally strange way I’ve swept myself off my feet.

Cybil is a real-life friend of my friend Fran and he kept prodding me to check out her blog—but like most writers I shun the work of other writers when what precedes the prodding is fawning praise.  That’s because, as a writer, I prefer to be the recipient rather than the observer of it.

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Hearts and Flowers

I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.

Marylin Monroe

I find that the longer I live the more I question the nature of our notion of love—but this is really only a small part of the living of life for most of us.  A longer life means greater exposure to things generally, and more exposure produces a more varied existence. The longer you live, for example, the V-Daymore likely you are to contract an exotic disease such as Alzheimer’s, or cancer, or perhaps to become the victim of a terrorist attack.  You’re simply around longer, and linear mathematics being what it is, the longer you live, the greater your pool of human experience, which is a two-edged sword.

The pool of experiences is likely to be not only greater, but more diverse as well—which means the experiences will no-doubt be much more interesting but will also certainly include both pleasant and unpleasant events.  To wit, the experience of living life is bound to include progressively both more ecstasy and torment, although it often feels to me as though there is much more torment than ecstasy.

And this brings me to the notion of Valentine’s Day.  A day that vexes me like no other—so much so, in fact, that I was unable to write about it at a more appropriate time, like the actual Valentine’s Day rather than today.  I instead stewed at my bar, while my wife prepared dinner.  I refer to Valentine’s Day as a notion because like many notions it’s annoyingly silly.  Most refer to it as a holiday, but this is precisely the problem I have with it.  Holidays are known as such because the word devolved from the term Holy Day.  You know, a day set aside to acknowledge or celebrate Divine intervention.  News Flash.  There’s nothing Holy about Valentine’s Day.

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My Life with You

I am a walking dichotomy.

I profess a belief in God, yet I sometimes take his name in vain.  I self-identify as a Christian, but I frequently break nearly every rule in Christian doctrine.  I want to be loved in a way that reeks of desperation, yet I revel in shocking you with a coarse comment, and I think doing so is amusing.  I want you to heap fawning praise upon me as you read my work, yet I go out of my way to make sure you cringe at least once in everything I write.  I am filled with self loathing, yet—or perhaps because of that fact—I have the most fragile ego of any person in all of Humankind.  Your words can shatter the frail veneer of my sense of self, yet I invite your scolding reprimand with my words.

Writer's BrainI’ve always known this about myself, but I never really reflected on it consciously until a moment ago as I considered a recent conversation with one of my publicists, Danielle Hartman.  That’s right; I have two publicists.  My inclination toward polygamy is not limited to a marital and social bent.  I need two publicists just like I need at least two of everything else in my life.  Yes; I need two.  One simply isn’t enough, and so I also hired Phillis Benson who has been educating me in the art of proper Web design, and social media, and I need her because I hate social media, FaceBook especially.   Continue reading

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