I’ve been thinking about this. I read today on another site that this fm probably means the Real End in relationships.

I dunno. I’m just not feeling that. In fact I feel kinda crazy/lucky and kinda better than I have in a long, long time. The days are getting longer but there’s more to it than that. I feel like I used to feel, like something kind of cool could happen. Maybe something small. Maybe something already did.

Yep-on a couple of notable occasions. Fundamentally in each case, it was to appease another. Seemed like the bigger win at the time. In retrospect? Hmm..maybe-maybe not.

Hope your # comes in with you ready & able to whoop, holler and proudly pull that red wagon home with you.

Well, I read same as Eva – some kind of ‘rack’ with Juno and Venus and Lilith and dog knows what. ‘They’ say ‘it’s’ all going to come out in the wash by evening of 20th.

I was wondering about your story because you DID want the wagon – it was out of your control. But not grabbing the ring is a choice.
Yes, I can’t put my mind to when but I’ve turned and walked away from the wagon. It’s sort of a sick feeling like you just know it’s not for you.

Anyway, I know the post makes no sense. I thought y’all might like some nonsense is all.

What? no, it makes perfect sense! Here’s to a shiny new red wagon coming your way Elsa!!!!

See, I think this stuff has various levels. But this could be my imagination LOL. I think I am creative (Leo) but I am mistaken (Neptune).

Whatever. Who holds a kid’s birthday party at a gas station anyway? Isn’t this a good way to get run over?

We’ll have to wait and see what Annalisa has to say. Maybe I am pissed (Mars) at my sibling (Mercury) because she was also pissed at her sibling for being there, sucking up her friend’s resources, lol.

The whole family is Mars Mercury and Jupiter Moon. maybe she knew I was going to win toooooo and said, fuck that – we’re out of here! Elsa gets enough attention with those MF’ing dimples of hers and I don’t want her running around with that fuckin’ wagon _- I;ll never hear the end of it… I’d be gloating, see? And I would have been.

I remember the father. he was charismatic, involved with his daughter, giving her the party. He announced he wagon and I was mesmerized. I had never had anything new in my life so could hardly believe someone was GIVING AWAY something so incredibly grand. I thought he could not possibly be for real. He was wearing overalls.

Yeah well back in the day there wasn’t a McDonalds! lol

I left a prize on the table once. I won a raffle at school, and the grand prize was a flight in a private plane that belonged to one of my teachers. I told the teacher that I wanted to fly to my grandma’s house, which was 3000 miles away. When she explained that it wasn’t a flight TO someplace, but instead a pleasure flight around the area, I politely declined and never claimed the prize. I can’t remember the exact time this happened to check the tranits, but it seems like a very earthy response for this very non-earthy chick.

My favorite thing I ever wrote was a story that was entirely composed of conversation – my sister and I telling her (ex) husband a story, in tandem.

We actually did this, the conversation was real but we’re both pretty amusing when we tell a story, so she was telling it and I was interjecting or the other way around.

It was a hell of a night could you have been there, and because I can recall dialogue, exactly, I could transcribe the conversation by memory, 15 years after the fact. Bur here is a quirk from hell:

In my writing, Annalisa smokes like a chimney. She is constantly lighting cigarettes and inhaling and blowing smoke. I, on the other hand do NOT smoke in the story, even though I smoked as much as she did (at the time).

Now even worse, I did not know this until Scott read the story and pointed it out to me. It was very embarrassing.

I did not mean to hide my smoking, at least not consciously and have not idea if that was it or if I was just spellbound by Annalisa’s smoking and storytelling because she is freaking fetching.

And Scott had another complaint in one of my stories which to be expressly honest, might be why I have never pursued publishing my book. It’s because one of the stories is messed up.

It is the story of when I met Scott – I was 15 and while the story is totally honest – both the events and the reports of how I felt and the things I was thinking, he assures me the story is hopelessly jacked because what is NOT in it is my own charisma.

He explained that I held and had the whole bar in awe of me – enraptured. They fuckin’ LOVED me and no one ever dreamed for a nanosecond, that I was underage. He said this is missing; I do not capture my own charisma.

He reminded me they called me the Italian Joan Rivers back then – this was Joan at her peak and they did call me that but it is not in the story because I am the person who is telling the story and I had no perspective on that.

My perspective was terror as to when I was going to get caught. Fuck man. I’d been homeless just two months prior – it’s hard to comprehend you’re celebrated.

It would be like Jaycee Lee Dugard getting to town and everyone is enamored with her. She’s not going to know what the fuck, now is she?

But really, Scott is right. It should be in the story SOMEHOW because he is correct but I don’t know how to get it in there because, how would I?

My storytelling style is to not embellish or explain too much. I mean, you can see they like me in the era but the “why” of that is not in the story because I was just too fucking bewildered.

See, he was there and I did not APPEAR bewildered. Matter of fact, he was 18, I was 15 and I had him convinced he was dating an older woman of 22. I used beat the shit out of him about his “youth”. Ha ha ha. “If you were older,” I’d say.

I sound like a ballsy kid but it was something else driving me, I’m telling you. I had to keep the illusion going, see?

OH NO!! What a horrible story! I am glad you did not tell me this in person because I would have been bawling my eyes out.
Cute little girl, staring at a red wagon, knowing it was meant for her, waiting and waiting… then forced to go home- clutching the winning ticket.
SAD!!!

Yeah, that’s a loss that will stay with someone over time. Thanks, Elsa, this post took me way back, too.

Something really weird–I just read in the paper today about a review for a cafe called….the red wagon. The reason why it is called the red wagon is based on a childhood horror story of the owner/chef, who used to through himself down hills on…a red wagon.:)

TreeFrog, I can relate. Saturn squares three planets of mine, and Uranus conjunct ascendant – retro in the 12th – might also have something to do with it. (Not being so thrilled to receive attention.) I can’t remember if I posted about the last time I wrote a good story – when I was ten/eleven (right around my birthday), and the teacher loved it so much that she read it out to the class, showed the headmaster, etc. I was mortified, and haven’t written a decent story since. I busied myself cleaning my desk as she read, wishing that I could be anywhere but there.

I’ve also sabotaged, or had the potential of something taken anyway, due to being moved, or obstacles being dropped in my path in some other way. I tend to resent that, when I’ve been working myself up to doing something, or finally experiencing some success, and *bam* – it’s gone. :/

I so want to send you a red wagon right now. I get it, shiny red metal. I would have drooled too.

I feel something unexpected coming. Makes me a little nervous because surprises and the unexpected can be good or bad. Or good AND bad.

As for Scott’s critique of your writing leaving out your charisma, well, your charisma is a given. It would be like reading a book and the writer saying, “hey, I’m an author” Your charisma is in the spirit of the text. So couple your charisma in your writing with your perspective in retelling the event and that equals to captured reader. Period, end of critique.

What a trip! Annalisa’s version is right. I remember the point about being home before dark and she’s right about how it would have gone over, had I come home with a wagon. ::shakes head::

This was the best of my recall from 5 years old and you see how this goes. The story from my perspective because that is the only story I have.

All the things Annalisa mentioned were not IMPORTANT to me. I mean, clearly they were important in reality but what I wanted was to win that fuckin’ wagon because I knew I could and I would and everything else blurred around that.

weird, I have been having these same kinds of thoughts, like I’m about to win but *have to be present* to collect prize

brizo – yep. And my little red truck, I used to have. Oh maaaan, did I ever love that truck.