Tonight my legs feel like wet noodles after riding the Spin bike and then following up the sweat-burn ride with Yoga. Whew. Wet noodles, I tell you. Spynga (45 minutes of Spin and 30 minutes of Yoga) is my new fitness obsession. Spinning is an old friend - I was a Spin junkie for a long time, and then I just got burned out; moved to Yoga and also walking or running outside. I like the yin and yang combination of getting a good, hard cardio work-out, and then following it up with a full body stretch and calmness. I’m still getting my run groove on outside; bounding through snow, sleet and muck, but I must admit, I’ve missed having a bike between my legs…sore sitz bones and all, it’s been good visiting this old friend.
I feel powerful and strong, and damn, Spinning lifts my ass like no other sport, except for maybe surfing, but Lake Erie is not an option for this girl. Yeah, the mind, body, bike experience is really a great high for me. And Yoga is truly the yin I need to balance out my over-active yang.
What old friends have you seen lately? And how do you balance your yin and yang?
That’s my formula for writing a story - I’m not sure about any of you fellow writers out there, but I’ve found when I write, I often use the internet to search for necessary
visual stimulating images in order to gather the perfect words when developing a character, or perhaps, to describe a specific item of clothing.
Or sometimes, against my better judgment, I look up the ingredients to the type of snacks I’m rotting my teeth with, while my fingers try and catch up to mind’s dirty, dirty thoughts.
And as much as I enjoy listening to music found on the internet to help capture a thought, a scene, or describe and build a character, I can’t listen to music while I write. And I know some very successful writers that do, while their minds and fingers fill the blank pages with words. For me, the music becomes too much of a distraction and before too long, I’m tapping my foot, and singing along, like a fool - and not writing. Okay, so maybe a little classic jazz can sometimes be heard from the another room, while my fingers tongue n’ groove their way into the keys, like tonight. But the music is an ever so gentle melody; soft as a whisper. I feel I do my best naughty-tale telling when my mind is clear and my immediate world around me is quiet: stand-still quiet; pin-drop quiet; epic-quiet, ssssh-quiet, quiet-please-quiet.
What about you? Music when you write, or no? High in caloric, sodium and sugary snacks when you write? And what are you working on these days and who are some of your internet role models?
How about a little girl-on-girl (meow) action to help stoke the holiday fires, kittens? Select the link from the title, Non-Traditional and enjoy a rockin’-randy, holiday story - oh, and be sure and be extra naughty these days, because Santa is making his list - so tell me, is a new whip at the very top of your list?
Happy Holidayz
Neve (Crack!) Black
p.s. gotta have the cool tee pictured above? Go here to order your very own from Etsy.
I currently have four felines living with me and they give me great joy. One of them is a newer addition; recently taken from the cruel jaws of the city streets. Yes, I know, snicker if you must and call me a cat-lady, but this is something that I do. I can’t and won’t turn my back on these creatures. So inside the house that I reside in currently, which as you may know, isn’t really my house, because I’m rehabbing my house… I live with Snoop Dogg, Boo, Stache and Tilde. All of these pussies were once living outside on the streets; pussies from the hood, I often like to call them, because they were either abandoned, or simply the forgotten off-spring to a young and highly prolific mother.
I also feed somewhere between three and four cats at any given time that live outside too. There are so many cats living in my neighborhood without homes that my yard is a constant rotation of felines: white, black, gold, gray, spotted, old and new: it’s a merry-go-round of pussies living just past the sliding glass door that opens onto the patio and onto the private back yard. The good news is, I’ve been successful capturing most of these cats and getting them to a doctor for check-ups, shots, spay or neutering. And yes, this cat-lady does her best to try and find each of them a warm and loving home. I’ve been lucky to find homes for a few that I’ve fostered. Sadly though, I’ve had to euthanize a few as well. Regrettably, there just aren’t enough people in the world willing to adopt a cat, let alone one that has a disease. I cry every time I’ve had to make that choice for that creature and I like to think that their next life will find them living in a warm and loving environment. I feel their energy living within me and they help guide me to continue to help others, like them.
I truly believe if I lived in a city that had a surplus of any kind of animal that walked across my path and was in need of help, I would probably be providing the same service to those fellow creations – hell, if I lived in the Chilean Andes; I’d have a herd of llamas…llama-lady? My point is, regardless of what type of God’s creation, for me, stepping in and offering food, love, warmth, snuggles and doctor’s care, just feels like the right thing to do. Maybe because I’ve been so fortunate in my life to be given much love and care from others, and my life seems rich in that respect, so this is my way of giving back - offering thanks.
So, as we spend this week preparing for the traditional holiday of Thanksgiving by spending time with our family and friends, and sitting down to stuff our faces full of delicious traditions served hot from the oven, please remember to give thanks to all the creatures in your life. After all, we’re all God’s creatures and we all have much to be thankful for each and every day.
I wrote this story last summer when I had a lot more time to write a lot more stories, because I was sort of being a lazy-ass, living the good, but sans money life of not working. Yo.
So tonight as I did a little website update, I thought, “Neve, I wonder if some people might be a wee-bit tired of your film critic-ways?” And just like that, I decided instead of an erotic blog post filled with film, film, film all the time, I’m going to try and post a new erotic short n’ dirty once a month, or so…at least that’s the goal. Wish me luck with that one, because you know how much I can get swept away with film.
Hollywood creates movies designed primarily to entertain a mainstream audience. I get that. I really do. The high-rolling movie executives are in the business to entertain a mainstream audience and hope to make a lot of fucking money while doing it. Good for them. The trouble for me is, I’m not a mainstream movie watcher, so every time I think I’ll take another chance; roll the lucky Hollywood dice and hall my cookies off to one of the super-duper Cineplex venues, where they cater to Hollywood wonders, I’m usually always disappointed. I’m left feeling flat.
So, in the case of the Hollywood film I saw over the weekend, Hereafter, I was once again left feeling a bit empty. And I really wanted to like this film. The film is supposed to be about the exploration of life after death. A topic that has such potential for great emotional depth. Yeah, and the potential in this movie, it was right there, just begging to be come out and be noticed. But good ol’ Hollywood substituted strong and often conflicted character development for dramatic sensationalism. And I’ll admit that I was lulled into temptation by the films cinematography at times, but that didn’t have anything to do with why I went to see this film. The acting by most of the characters was okay, but certainly not great. I think the direction should have gone another way, and gone much deeper; pulling me into something believable; something emotional stirring; something…anything where mediocre good, gets Oscar great.
After Hereafter was over, I couldn’t help and wonder if other movie goers, maybe even some of the mainstreamers that Hollywood executives bank on, would also scratch their heads like I did, and have the same feelings of flat about Hollywood’s version of the Hereafter.
Always and forever thankful for my art house venue of wonderful -
Neve Black
So my blog posts have had a lot to do with what’s going on in my life these days, as opposed to getting down on my hands and knees and peering into someone else’s world, ahem…specifically the neighbor’s sexual habits.
Suffice to say, the posts I’ve been writing have more to do with my thoughts and what’s been going on in my own erotic head…and certainly not everything that goes on in my head, mind you, because let’s be honest, there just isn’t enough time in the day, plus I can’t share all my naughty secrets. Meow.
For me, Sunday evenings appear to be the time when I slow down a bit; pour myself a glass of vino, while I pour something into the blog-o-sphere to you, loyal reader.
It should come as no surprise to you that my life, thus my thoughts are consumed with Spanish. And I know I sound a lot like someone’s favorite song that keeps repetitively playing, Spanish, Spanish, SPANISH, because Spanish consumes a large part of my world now. And I kinda’ think Spanish is going to consume my world for the rest of my life too: I study, think, cook, translate and dream about Spanish – everything Spanish. And that of course includes Spanish films. After all, film is one of my lovers.
Tonight I took a break from working (blah) and from studying reflexive verbos, and watched what is now considered one of my favorite films –Lucia y el Sexto, directed by Julio Medem. Good lord not only did el sexto in this film make me squirm and feel loosey-juicy, but the plot, the acting (easy on the eyes) and the undertow of parallel universes was superb, no sensational, no spectacular. Yes, spectacular. Oh, and this film is sort of an oldie (2002) that somehow snuck passed my Spanish radar, because I’d never seen the film before tonight. The film was nominated for 11 Goya awards (Spanish equivalent to an American Oscar).
Quito todos mis las ropas (both reflexive and erotic)
Neve Black
