My voice is a weapon, my words bullets against your guns.
Eighteen-year-old Andreanna Catt from Seeding Sovereignty spoke. The situation on reservations is dire. This article doesn’t mention that 1 out of 3 indigenous women are victims of abuse, nearly twice the national average
My heart has been heavy this week. I’ve been sad, irritated and short tempered. (To the chagrin of my family!). I am a very empathetic person, and the feelings of others often resonate very strongly within me. Many times, when tensions and energies are very strong, I struggle to understand, and contain my thoughts and feelings. That has certainly been the case this week. With all that happened last weekend and over this past week, my heart has been drawn back to my home state of South Dakota and the beautiful Lakota American Indians with which I lived in 1994 and 1995.
For those new to my blog, or if you aren’t aware of my story, In January of 1995, my first born son died when he was 8 days old, from complications due to several birth defects. Before and during that event in my life, my husband and I…
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For fuck’s sake. His embrace of the Women’s March feels like the purvy cousin who used to watch us play in the sprinklers when we were kids while he chain-smoked and drank Keystone Light. Ugh.
Does he think we marched because of how good we have it? How happy we are? (Although some folks did get an unexpected vacation today. #TrumpShutdown) If so, he’s a poor judge of character and not very genius. He’s taken OUR thing and tried to take credit for it because:
HE IS AFRAID OF US!
Or, is Fox News telling him we were basking in his glory?
Snort. I can’t imagine a Trump supporter at the Women’s March. I think it might be against their blood-oath. (It’s what people are saying. Everybody knows it.) Not one MAGA hat in sight, although, now I need a rainbow pussy hat.
Thanks for giving us permission to “get out there.” We probably had record numbers because he endorsed us. The biggest crowds. All thanks to him. Now he’s gonna want to watch us pillow fight and make out. **See gif above**
Spin hard, spin it all night long, but you can not DROWN OUT OUR VOICE. I do thank you, Donald Trump, for uniting us. For making us better people. We will not be talked over or talk to.
Exist to resist!
That’s me in the pussy hat with my best friends. The one on the right is also my best sister. Although I quote a line from Oprah, I think my political crush puts me in Cory Booker’s corner.
Want more of my opinion? A little birch-curious? I’m not always so pissy. Try these tidbits:
I’ve been told not let my politics rule my social media profiles. It could cost book sales. Well, I say fuck that. I am going to bathe in my values because I give a shit. If what I think contributes one nanobyte to the expulsion of this president, then yeah me!
For those of you who claim you are my friend then unfollow me because you can’t stomach the shit show that is the president, well, stick your head in the stand because it’s only getting worse. Stick it down deep. Deeper. Still deeper, because that is where this president lives.
I will be outspoken here. This is my medium. I am here because I am frustrated and angry and while I will march with the women on January 20, I will also fight with my words. Sometimes it’s all we have.
Marketing America’s discontent worked for Trump. It’s not just the Republicans and the poor working class who are dissatisfied with the bottom line of their savings account. Assuming they have a savings account.
It’s time Democrats started fighting fire with fire. Quit being so polite.
Exist and resist.
Available Now: https://goo.gl/fihFfA
Sometimes second chances start with four paws.
In the small town of Marshall Glen, Sofia retreats from life following the death of her husband. Six-year-old Kady lives in foster care and hasn’t spoken since a house fire stole her family. After she saves Kady’s dog from drowning, Sofia attempts to stay locked away, but learns that—
…even though she’s given up, her heart wants to—try again.
When Kady runs away from her foster home, Sofia meets the cop in charge of the search, Brandon—her first love. Sparks fly even as she struggles with her conscience. Is she being unfair to her husband’s memory?
When random acts of vandalism turn to attempted kidnapping, Brandon helps keep Kady safe. As the danger deepens, how far will Sofia go to save a child?
About the Author: “Whisper of an Angel” is Lorah Jaiyn’s debut novel. Her short stories have been featured in several anthologies, and she has much more in the works. Her mood dictates genre blend from magic to vigilante justice. She lives in Central Florida and credits her Jack Russell as both her muse and biggest distraction. Lorah enjoys creating with polymer clay and volunteers with a wildlife rescue. She loves exploring the great outdoors and is also totally addicted to the Hallmark Channel.
Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/Lorah-Jaiyn/e/B01MQTN0X4
- Three hairs! appeared OVERNIGHT on my chin. I braided them with tiny beads. It looks cool.
- I can’t undo my bra behind my back with one hand anymore. I don’t know if I’m old or my flexibility is limited to putting on my shoes. I know it’s both. Get off my back.
- I look at young people and think “I remember being that age… sort of.”
- I talk dirty to my bed, “I’m gonna sleep on you good. That’s right, and you’re gonna like it.”
- You know that thing when you lay on your back, put your feet in the air with your hands supporting your butt, and pretend to pedal a bike? I can’t do that anymore. In defense, I don’t think your ass should EVER be higher than your head if you’re over 50. That’s just good sense.
- I’m starting to look like my mother. *Mike drop*
BTW I want to hang with the birch in this image. I can only hope to ever have that much self-confidence.
Exist and Resist
Bear Butte, located northeast of Sturgis, South Dakota, is an important religious site for many plains tribes including the Lakota Sioux and Cheyenne.
Geologically, it’s not a butte but a laccolith, an intrusive igneous body that uplifts the surrounding sedimentary rocks which have weathered away leaving this gorgeous structure.
It will be here long after the church in the foreground turns to dust.
Photograph by A.L. Lindseth, March 31, 2016
Corpus Press Horror and Weird Fiction is now accepting submissions for a new Halloween-themed horror anthology. Submissions will be accepted according to our publishing needs, regardless of author publication history or status. Submissions should appeal to a wide audience (late teen to adult).
What we are looking for:
- Not previously published short stories of 4,500-8,500 words that have a central theme associated with Halloween and can be characterized within the broad realm of “horror” fiction.
- Successful submissions will be highly original, well written and cleanly edited.
- Stories can be frightening, thought-provoking, atmospheric, humorous or satirical (or any combination thereof), but MUST contain a complete tale
Submission window: October 29, 2017 – March 30, 2018.
Pay Rate: $.03 per word
The Alchemy Press Book of Horrors is looking for horror tales for an anthology that can be described as “weird”, “strange”, “amazing” and “peculiar.”
Your story can be set in almost any era, any place but glimpse at and pervert the usual perceptions of reality – and unreality. We do not want stories that deal with common horror tropes without stretching boundaries. Avoid zombies unless they are tackled in an unexpected and strange fashion. No urban romance – you know, heroine falling for a vampire and so forth. Nor do we want to see religious tracts, porn, and we really, really do not want gross-out horror tales.
- 3,000-6,000 words
- Due January 31, 2018
- Payment: 0.5/word
Flash Fiction Magazine is accepting fiction stories between 300–1000 words.
What qualifies as a STORY is subjective, but in general…It should have a beginning, middle, and end with conflict and resolution.
- Conflict = There needs to be an incident or event of some kind. Something must happen to qualify as a STORY.
- Resolution = In the end, the character’s world is different as a result of the incident and how it was dealt with.
- $30 – Per Story
Need more? Check these out. 36 Calls for Submissions in January 2018 – Paying Markets
I have an unnatural curiosity for anything atomic. In the nineties, I worked at several nuclear facilities including Rocky Flats Plant north of Golden Colorado and the Nevada Test Site. My job was conducting remediation (hazardous/radiological waste cleanup) studies. The facilities themselves had been retired, but decades of men with practically unlimited funding left scars on this earth that will be here eons after our species is extinct.
Isn’t that a happy thought?
I’ve walked the rim of a test crater. I inspected abandoned five-story warehouses that used to house test weapons. I helped tear down the EPA Farm where they tested radionuclides on animals for decades.
Fuckers even did tests on beagles. BEAGLES!
I’ve seen the effects, but I would take a dose to see a mushroom cloud. The destructive supremacy is intoxicating to me. Just think what it must be like for narcissistic, control freaks like Donald and Kim Jon Un. I imagine one hand playing with their tiny bits while their other hand wavers over the button. Fucking scary scenario. Look at what just happened in Hawaii. People truly believed war had started.
Not. So. Far-fetched.
You know what they figured out after the detonation of over 900 ‘devices?’
Nuclear weapons are bad. Bad for the victims. Bad for the earth.
Bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD.
The waving of Trump’s nuclear phallus as they compare dick size is an insult to the American people.
There are more than three dozen calls for submissions in January. All of these are paying markets and none charge submission fees. Every genre, style, and form is wanted, from speculative fiction to poetry to personal essays