Hate to Love

Tell us about a guilty pleasure that you hate to love.


Some of us indulge in chocolate or wine or candies, desserts

and love.

I too, have an indulgence.

A weakness so all encompassing that I will always be its slave.

I will work overtime, hoard gift cards, I’d write a letter to Santa if I thought it could help in just so that I can go to the Mall and indulge until I can’t stand it anymore-

in makeup by Dior.

I’m not a Dior kind of woman- I buy my clothes from a store called Hot Topic and most of the times my socks ( which are all brightly printed  and have weird patterns) don’t match. But who cares? I wear motorcycle boots and hiking shoes most of the time. It’s not like anyone can actually see them.

Yes. For real. I own these.

Yes. For real. I own these.

But when I discovered Dior makeup a few years ago, I was lost.

I loved climbing into the chair at the makeup counter. I wouldn’t just sit there and get makeup applied- I’d sing the praises of Dior right along with the saleswoman.

We’d discuss colors, the right makeup brushes to use, what the next season’s color lines were going to be ( I felt like a kid on Christmas morning when I found that out ).

Strange to say – as I would make my purchases I would glance furtively around in the hope that…

nobody I know would see me there.

I mean, how would I explain myself?


I could easily go out and buy the same colors in pretty packaging for less money- a lot less money.

I do feel wicked when making those purchases.

But the luxury I feel  when I apply the makeup to my face, my eyelids, my lips…I am lost the minute I open that tube of lipstick.

I should give that entire line up.

But I can’t.

I won’t.

I hate to love my Dior makeup.



My Wall

Tell us a story behind that thing hanging on your wall over there.

Handmade Voodoo dolls for protection created to ward off negative spirits from your house, room, or wherever you choose to place it. This can also apply to negative influences that others place in your life, or harmful circumstances. They may seem chilling or unnerving, but that is intended to “scare” off unwanted energies.



Does Voodoo work, I’ve been asked.

It’s up to you I’ve replied.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

I went to New Orleans a couple of years ago, and I think that there are two things you must do in New Orleans,

You have to go the Cemetery and leave Marie Laveau a gift (I left a little vial of perfume) and you have to buy a voodoo doll.

I actually knew what I wanted- dolls to ward off bad spirits.

And it worked- much to my detriment as I would learn later.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

I write about the darkness in the human soul, I write about devilish people and the devilish things they do.

Do you know what happened when I chased those real life devilish things out of my life? When I didn’t want to acknowledge that some people I had let close to me were just toxic waste from the sewers of Hell itself? That death had taken people I had cared about and I refused to acknowledge those feelings of pain and loss?

I lied when I wrote.

I cheated.

I knew the truth about the pain of death, I had looked into the face of some seriously twisted human souls and when I wrote was very careful to know let that into my stories.

Like I said I lied.

But when I let those bad Spirits rattle around in my brain and I put them into stories- I started to really write again.


My dolls, as you can see are still on my wall.

I think they do ward off those bad things- but when it comes down to it warding things off isn’t enough.

Sometimes you have to take a stake and drive it through the monster’s rotten heart.

That’s what I do now every single night- one word at a time.


I Only Read It For The Articles


Some of you, who are not pure of heart and spirit, may remember the joke people made when they got caught reading Playboy:

” I only read it for the articles.”

We all knew that was balderdash- people weren’t reading Playboy they were LOOKING at Playboy.

I’m not here to judge- and if you want to look at pictures of naked people be my guest.

What I’m here to do is point out that people are dragging that sold old punch line out and they’ve applied it to…



Facebook is all about the pictures- we just have a hard time admitting that. So we write little quips and string together one liners and call it communication- but really it’s all about the pictures.

I think it’s fine if people are using Facebook as a way to communicate  if they’re housebound or in a place where for some reason making actual human contact is a challenge.

Moreover not everyone can be a storyteller- so if you want to share your dinner or pictures of your dog and kids and night out with your friends with other people who do that- knock yourself out.

But if you’re a writer ( for example ) Facebook is a creative killer.

Instead of taking those ideas that could turn into actual stories or posts or articles, they disintegrate into a Meme. Or you skip it altogether and instead of turning a person you know or met by chance into an interesting character you just slam this on your wall and call it a day:


That’s not writing.

It will never be writing.

If you’re a writer don’t fool yourself, you’re not sharing an idea or telling a story. You’re doing the hi-tech version of writing on a bathroom stall.

In the old days picture above would have ended up in the margin of my notebook and I’d have turned it into a  story about two people who end up willing to fight to the death for a parking space- and then when they realize they’re deadlocked they make a deal with the Devil.

Nobody ever will comment under that picture” and what happened next?”

The point I’m trying to make is, if I want to share something  a story about my dog or how my same old daily bus ride is more then it appears or how I saw something strange or cruel or funny- I can do more then slam a picture on FB and post under it:





I’m supposed to be a writer. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be or do.

I shouldn’t settle for  doing less when I know I have so much more to offer.


The trick is letting go of Facebook.

I’ve bought into the notion that this is where people ‘live’ now and if I don’t live there I will not be living at all.

That can’t be true.

It just can’t be.