I just checked out the Sugasm. It’s been a bit of a week. What can I tell ya? But it turns out the folk who do voting-type-things with Sugasm liked my schwag and I was one of the top three again. You know, it never gets old, so, please, by all means. Thank you.
I love writing. It’s who I am. It’s what I do. I’d do it for nothing. Probably why I’m doing it for nothing. Hey, wait a minute. People get paid for this shit. I should look into that. Continue reading
Author Archives: Steffani Cameron
Sidewalk Reckonings
I’ve never been a walker. It was always painful for me. Somehow, over the last six months, maybe the stretching routine I’ve gotten into, perhaps the weight I’ve lost, walking has become comfortable, even enjoyable. I daresay I may even have a cute bounce in my step instead of the weary old “do I have to?” not-so-stride. I walk a lot these days. Sometimes even on purpose. And I usually take longer routes.
I KNOW. WEIRD.
Seemingly a tangent, but totally not: Continue reading
a lament: to beg for a season's end
a bath, a book, a glass of wine. a fine end to a mostly long day.
the book? elizabeth smart’s By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept. poetric prose. love tryst. “homewrecking”, said moralistic critics of the time. swirling romance, says i. fitting for a tub.1940s classic lost for a couple of decades, then found again.
she’s describing a stretch of northern californian coastline, up into oregon, that i know well and haven’t seen for seven years. inside, my heart’s breaking a little. i long for it, but i mostly long for summer.
honeysuckle-scented nights. warm salted breezes off the shore. the feeling of sweat on the small of your back. when air’s temperature matches the warmth of your breath. the heat of the sun on as much skin as you can bare. nights warm enough to lie under a tree or lay stargazing on the beach as conversation bleeds into dawn. jacketless at 2am.
i ache for summer. Continue reading
In Vinos Veritas: I'll Probably Wish I Hadn't Posted This
I promised myself I would write tonight so I’m doing so out of obligation, not inspiration. Let’s get that straight right off the bat.
And I’ve been drinking. I think I hear Cat Stevens singing “Trouble” off in the background there.
Truth be told, this is one of those heavy-thinking anniversaries most of us maybe have. It’s not affecting me, not in a negative way anyhow. More in a “Fuck it! I’m only here once! I’m BUYING WINE!” kind of way, actually. That’s not so bad. Continue reading
Woe is You? Oh, ho! Woe is US!
I’m giving a few people a stay of execution on Twitter.
Soon, the unfollows will commence, as I seek to find new folks to fill my ADHD hours with.
Who’s in danger of getting the axe? Anyone who keeps whining.
See, I’ll bitch. Bitching’s good. I encourage rants and bitching. I even encourage being argumentative and incendiary. (Obviously. Look at me!)
But if all you’re doing is whining about how the latest inconvenience in your life is, well, an inconvenience, or you’re moaning about what a loser you are, or doing the whole existential pity-party “Why me?” bullshit, well, I could probably be filling my cyberspace better.
Why you? Because it’s your fucking turn. Like it was for me for 10 years. Because that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Because, for the REST OF YOUR LIFE, you will experience inconveniences, tragedies, and heartbreak. Because that’s life. Because it takes thick skin. Because you have to want it. Because you have to FIND the good shit in the middle of the tough shit. BECAUSE. Because. Continue reading
The Annual Anti-Valentine's Posting: 2009 Edition
Ahh, Valentine’s Day. Sigh. Swoon. Won’t you be mine? Won’t you be my lover?
[RECORD SCRATCHES]
Let’s back that shit up.
Every year, without fail, I’m forced to write yet another posting saying pretty much all the same things. Like, if you can’t be romantic all year, you don’t deserve a lover. If you can’t remember to live with passion daily, then you’re wasting oxygen.
Sure, you can say, “Yeah, well, Valentine’s Day is good for young couples who are too busy — ”
[RECORD SCRATCHES]
Too busy? What, for each other? For knocking each other’s socks of with a quaking orgasm or two here and there? Too busy for head? Too busy for a stolen kiss in the corner of the kitchen? Too busy for a random, well-timed grope? Too busy for a lusty note snuck into a work lunch? Continue reading
Doorknob Detours
I’m sitting here in my Chuck’s, with my suede carcoat on, my sunglasses, and even my courier bag slung around my shoulder, because I was literally turning my doorhandle and something hit me.
I realized my bike ride yesterday is literally one of maybe a half-dozen times I’ve really been able to just settle the fuck down and enjoy life in a physical-outdoors-active kind of way since early last September. Yes, five months. Continue reading
My Time of Paradox
Hormones. I hate them.
Periods are a necessary evil in every woman’s life. What can we do? It’s there. Monthly. Looming dangerously and tauntingly on every lunar cycle.
My time used to be the full moon. Now, for some reason, I’m magically on the waxing half-moon. Which means I got caught by surprise at work. On a Monday. So, yeah, that happened. Nothing horrible, thank goodness. Just “Well, this is five days early. That’s lovely. And fuck you too.”
I never had a cunty-phase, though. I always have a “cuntday” a couple days before my period, sometimes the day before. I generally always have one great “ranting” bog post a month. You do the math. Continue reading
Fakin' It, Baby
[I’ve had a strange week. I bought some wine Tuesday, finished in Wednesday night, and wrote this while under the influence. It’s long, rambling, but it’s also a good dose of in vino veritas.]
This year of mine will require tremendous courage and a willingness to fail on my part, because I’ll need to push through a whole lot of existential and emotional roadblocks that have always kept me from a few places I’ve needed to be.
It’s not like I’m not a confident person. I am. I’ve got a great personality. I can sell anything, argue anyone. I’m smart as hell. I like my writing. I’m funny. I’m kind. I’m generous. I’m creative. I’m dogged. I may even be invincible. I know these things. I know these things.
The trouble is believing them. Because I wasn’t always this way, and, before that, I wasn’t always that way. Continue reading
Saying What's Meant and Meaning What's Said
We, as a society, seem pretty lost on the subject of communicating these days.
Oh, sure, we’ve got the surfacing of it all down pat. We text each other. Email abounds. Blogging has given a voice to everyone we wish never had one. Twitter makes it possible to nanobroadcast your life. Coworkers instant message each other from their desks. Feet? Who needs ’em? We’re more in touch with each other without even moving than we’ve ever been.
Yet it’s like the end of communication’s been happening before our very eyes. Does anyone ever really SAY anything anymore? Does any of it ever really MEAN anything? Continue reading