Prepping for Scotland

Dear Owner of Victorian Mansion, Hello, as it were. Is your establishment the one that makes Downton Abbey look like a cheap doll’s house? I sincerely hope so or one might feel compelled to change plans. Did you catch that? I’m using the pronoun ‘one’ like Queen Elizabeth.  I thought it brilliant and classy of me. Thanks so much for the info on taxis, buses and trains. You are awesome. A quick question. Would it be safe to walk from the Forres bus stop to your address? I’m travelling on a strict budget and, as I’ll be running on weird…

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A Story Burning to be Told

Last Wednesday was a special day. Not because I had a doctor’s appointment. My life isn’t that boring, yet. No. It was my friend’s forty-seventh birthday and I needed a present. Almost as good–it was the first time I’d been out in about two weeks due to a nasty recurring flu. The sky was gray with heavy dark clouds but I was up and moving; that was what mattered. I walked the five blocks to a bus stop and twenty minutes later, I checked in with Debbie, the medical assistant. “I’m so sorry, Terry.” She said. “Your appointment is at…

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Tender and Warm

She is tender and warm. Arrives on a morning fresh Without light knock or bell Like a whiff of tea and toast Upon a hot summer breeze. She is tender and warm. We perch on auburn-dabbed cliffs, shoulder against shoulder Study each other sideways. Relax, with breath abated An odd-looking pair, yet Somehow finely matched. She is tender and warm. Our bodies crumple in a fit of laughs. With our heels, we plough small Rocks along and off the dusty edge. Languish in and read saucy prose Savour a bookish kind of bliss. She is tender and warm. Inside, I…

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My Loneliness. Embraced? New Blog Post from Terry Gibson

Loneliness is the certainty that I have felt that way right down to my core for most of my life. It didn’t matter in whose company I was at any given time. It is seeing the child molesters, cheats, liars, and otherwise bad people in my family, thrive and live in comfort into their old age–while I could face homelessness and utter poverty in an aberrant heartbeat. Loneliness is realizing that being a good person—which matters to me–does not change reality or guarantee a thing. It does not mean everything is going to work out all right.  Although I choose…

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My Courage

Many people say I’m courageous. I understand that. However, most of what I’ve done is not fuelled by self-confidence. It’s powered by my will to live. Strong emotions provoke my flight-or-flight response.  I struggle with these highs and lows daily and thankfully have noticed that aging puts things on a more even keel. Whether to appease my inner critic or not, today my courage is about saying the following: I haven’t lied about a single thing that happened to me. I didn’t even embellish. In fact, I’ve held back so much out of embarrassment, shame, and anger.  This is also…

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‘One Art’ by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things  seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.   Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.   Then practice losing farther; losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.   I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.   I…

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To Speak Or Not To Speak

It was 1983 and I was in Trenton visiting my brother Steve, Dad, his second wife and their two little boys (also my brothers). “Steve told me you’re going away again,” Dad said. I studied his nicotine-stained fingers as he dragged a long haul of his cigarette. My face lit up. I smiled with excitement. “The Orient. I’m going to China!” I was giddy,   happy. I wanted Dad feeling proud of me. How badly I needed his approval! “Jeesus Christ!” Dad’s eyes had a look in them I did not like. “What do you want to go there for? All…

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Hold On – A New Blog Post from My Story Our Story

  I cannot hold on to old humiliations. I cannot let them seep into present-day interactions with friends, colleagues or my spouse. When I write these thoughts and feelings, they startle me with their power. They frighten me by their power. I cower and writhe under scrutiny from their power. Sunday evening, I fell prey to that might. My defences were down. Stress and defeat had tired me out. Suddenly, I was hit by an onslaught of subconscious memories. The sting of a fresh welt. A creaking bed. Stepfather grating my nerves raw. Laughing. My cheeks flushing hotly over an…

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I Want A 24 Hour Truce During Which There Is No Rape – Andrea Dworkin

Copyright © 1984, 1988, 1993 by Andrea Dworkin. All rights reserved. This was a speech given at the Midwest Regional Conference of the National Organization for Changing Men in the fall of 1983 in St Paul, Minnesota. One of the organizers kindly sent me a tape and a transcript of my speech. The magazine of the men’s movement, M., published it. I was teaching in Minneapolis. This was before Catharine MacKinnon and I had proposed or developed the civil rights approach to pornography as a legislative strategy. Lots of people were in the audience who later became key players in…

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My Bucket List

  From the Almost-Scorching-My-Fingers-It’s-So-Tangible Department Writing Goals Finish my memoir and seek traditional publishing routes. Complete a cohesive work of poetry to publish before release of memoir. Work on something funny like A Day of Musings With @Bookmark_Terry. Very Important Non-Writing-Related-But-Equally-Attainable Zone Improve my health dramatically. Enjoy gyms and all the amazing machines there, which I do. Swim. Walk a lot. Be Terry in training starting n-o-w. In the Not-Too-Wing-Nuttish Realm of Possibility Make money so I can keep travelling, studying, and immersing myself in healing, nurturing, culturally diverse, and intellectually stimulating environments. Take a hot air balloon ride, something…

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