Category Archives: Photography

Physically Fit And Mentally Shattered

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Fun Fact: An hour prior to this photo, I endured a manic attack. This shit is real.

One leg in front of the other. One strides, the other pops, as I challenge myself around the block. Figure four times around will make a quarter mile, figure a quarter mile is all my busted knee and shattered ankle can stand. Inhale and exhale metering easy. Shoulders low, arms heart level, knees hitting at the 90 degree angle. This is also known as a battalion run.

Open up into a quasi-sprint rounding the corner towards Manatee Avenue, sweetly greeted by a plume of pungent kush. I already like this neighborhood. Push through and then out the sprint to curve onto Manatee. Ten months of bullshit and the Courier 12 point font hearing decision proclaims, “The claimant’s disability continues.” I feel my knees pick up to work out the frustration, this unnecessary bureaucratic ordeal weighing on me like I’ve put back on the 80 pounds I’ve lost cumulatively in the past three years. Frustration reverts to pleasant curiosity as I pass a white clapboard house swirling with the sexy scent of bacon. I slow to a plod and feel exceptionally carnivorous.

Just the other day, in the new shoe store along Central Ave, we were all complaining of the same health benefits issue. The shop owners, both Army, both retired and now in business selling Miami-style women’s clothes, are also struggling to maintain their disability benefits. Active duty, reservist, civilian personnel, anyone who tolerated asinine bureaucracy for the sake of public service, we’re all at the same level of irritation: we put in our time, we paid our taxes, we satisfied contracts. Now, when we’re ready to collect on our hard earned yet meager reserves, we’re forced to prove or substantiate or submit or fill out or visit a vortex of dumbfuckery.

With the help of rage, I’ve already completed three laps. Purge this hate outta my body! This is a staycation with The Boyfriend (still haven’t thought of a clever nickname for him; suggestions welcome!) and this bungalow is adorable. Our own pool and a green-friendly innkeeper. It’s our two month anniversary this weekend. Yeah, I’m becoming very gay and so far I don’t hate myself for it.

Slow to the soggy wood gate and push it open, clasp it shut behind. I follow the path around to the pool, and I collapse into a plank. Only 45 seconds this morning. Dammit I’m getting fat!

Immediately I’m reminded of this silly saying my Mom would say:

“el amor se engorda”

10 months and 4 years later, the battle for competency has come to an end. Perhaps I can enjoy life right now. I’d like to. After all, there’s a guy waiting for me inside, waiting for me to clear my head to make room for him.

Wordless Wednesday: Date Night

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Wordless Wednesday: Poetry Night

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See the girl with the ninja tattoo..?

RANT: What Makes A Woman Fap-able?

Courtesy: StyleBistro

Courtesy: StyleBistro

[NOTE: I am a retired information technology specialist. This rant is long overdue.]

This week’s biggest culture shock was The Fappening, and I’m not going to bother to route you to the specifics of the story. Just, once again, nudies have been made public via the zeroes and ones. It’s really nice to know that all the progress we’ve made in information and communication technologies have led us to a social state of constantly taking pictures of our junk and feeling the world needs to know about it.

I’ve done it. Shot a few pics of my fun box. Not in the, ‘ooh this is sexy’ sense, but more in the paranoid, ‘does this mean I have herpes??’ sense (and no, friends, I don’t.) I’ve also done it to confirm, albeit in pure disbelief, that not one, but TWO white hairs have occupied fun box region, which is why I go smooth now.

I present this to say, I’ve utilized the technology to resolve an issue in a real-time moment, but I’ve never thought, ‘hey, I need to send So-N-So this.’ So why is it so commonplace for people to share these kinds of pics, and then be completely disgusted that they’ve made their way to websites. Really?? The issue is the violation? No, fucktard, the issue is you’re so self-absorbed you felt the need to hit SEND to a very unreliable person. That, or you’re just fuckin’ lazy. You want someone to be impressed with your naked body? Get up, go over to their place and show it to ‘em, Bible-style.

It was a hack job, Von. Yeah, yeah, but don’t blame The Cloud. Again, blame the fucktard who sent his or her ‘sensitive, personal photos’ across the firewire. It’s a shared lane, people; anything you put out there in zero and one form can be accessed. Screw passwords and encryption; remember, humans designed them, humans can deconstruct them. NOTHING IS IMPENETRABLE. You really should stop blissfully relying on sites and services to protect your data. In fact, try to spend some time reading the EULA or Terms Of Use before registering your avatar. Don’t want to read through all the fine print? Then don’t complain about your ‘sensitive, personal’ shit being accessed. Most of the time, you’re already signing over your rights.

And don’t forget, ya’ll…there’s the good ol’ NSA. The Metadatabaters can bypass any wails of violation you may throw at them. No one’s on your side, baby, so stop bitching.

Don’t want it out there? Don’t hit SEND.

That rant being over, lemme go ahead and reiterate the title: what makes a girl fap-able? In studying my site traffic and analytics, I have found that, during the early morning hours in America, a certain pic of me tends to show up in search engine results. The specifics are defined as “encrypted search results.” Well, doing some further digging, the popular search engine term for that particular pic is “hot wifey”. How the hell does that lead you fappers to ME?!?

Now here’s the debacle…a talented artist like myself, an amateur photographer, who happens to be a woman, likes to post pictures of herself in action quite regularly (and deftly I feel) right here on vonsimeon.com. The intent of the site is to celebrate my -ness; my creativeness, my wildness, my antipatheticness. However, during the early morning hours in Brazil, a certain pic of me tends to get hits. Same in Belgium. Same in South Africa. Not the same picture, mind you, which I guess would be a compliment if I was trying to solicit compliments from night fappers! But still…this site wasn’t designed for you to jack off to. I’m contemplating adding a warning message to my main header: There Be No Fapping Here.

It is the zeroes and ones, and if I upload then hit Publish, the probability of being fapped to increases as I continue to provide photos in my blog posts. I want the attention to my artistry, not my genitals, but, I suppose I have no choice but to sigh and quote The Stiffler:

 

 

 

“Whack away, Jim. Whack away.”

 

Typical Florida Afternoon

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You Fall In, I Lean In.

I watched with mixed alarm/rage as he took my lap tray, my footstool, and assembled a crude end table beside my bed. Delivering my calmest, what the fuck are you doing?, he replied matter-of-fact-ly, “I go to bed with a glass of water.” I watch as he places a glass full of water and his smoking accutrement on the tray. Great, I think to myself as I scoot from dead center of my bed to the right…Baby wants a nightstand.

The next day, we head to a going out of business sale where anything you can fit into a lidded bin, she’ll sell you for the size of it. She also had furniture for sale, so I muddle about until I spy a wobbly end table, double tiered, with a jacked drawer. Examining closer, the person who had owned this not only did a shit job of assembling the particle board pieces, but set the drawer guides the wrong way! Instead of reversing it and evening out the screws, they dumped it here.

“How much?”

“Twenty.”

“I’ll give you ten.”

Sold.

Even though I *should* be writing, even though I *should* be preparing the next few features of this blog, I am instead deconstructing and reconstructing this nightstand. I actualize that I’m doing what most solitary people do when the Missus is being annoying – surrendering myself to the peace and simplicity of matching dowels and wood screws into pre-pressed and holed boards. Like my hideaway-in-the-craft-room brethren (and hopefully sisthren; I can’t be the only chick who enjoys woodwork!) I’m mumbling under my breath about all the uncertainties which have surfaced since I agreed to this arrangement. It’s not an arrangement, I chide myself; after all, we sparked at the exact same time. I’m perturbed because he’s constantly on my mind, he’s constantly pissing me off, everything smells of him. I can’t avoid him.

I reset the drawer and it slides with ease.

“Lean in!” my dear 94-year old neighbor exclaimed when I told her about him, she more interested in my dealings than her recent trip to the ER for a heart attack. So I did, I leaned in. As a result, Baby has his nightstand, and when he comes back to visit, he’ll have a place for his drink and his smoke and I’ll quietly burn knowing the condensation is going to collect and leave rings on the surface and he’s bringing ash into the bed but WHATEVER. He’s got a primo hottie as a girlfriend, who not only has her own lake but a Xbox attached to a 50″ high definition flat screen TV and a Netflix subscription.

He’s still going to break up with me, because ultimately, no man would DARE stay with a woman who has the capacity to turn junk into functioning furniture. Hell, he’ll probably not even notice it’s there.

I’m leaning in. And it’s painful.

Read My Book? Need Your Feedback ASAP!

Love that you bought it, would REALLY love your feedback!

 

You bought my book? AWESOME! Wanna tell me what to do next? Also awesome!

Go RIGHT NOW to Make Contact and select FOCUS GROUP from the pull-down menu.

I’m collecting information to help me decide my next move in the book game.

As always, thanks for playing along!

 

 

Tell Me What To Do!

Busy Secretary Working in Office

Hello friends! On April 4th of this year, I released my debut novel, I Blew Up Juarez. Proudly, I sold several copies and ran out of printed books!

I intended to put out the next “book” this holiday season, but I have another idea, and this is where I need your help!
On AUGUST 31, 2014 I’m sending out a quick survey for all readers of I Blew Up Juarez via email to collect your thoughts on how the story continues, even if you’re not finished reading the book! Exciting, right?
If you are interested in becoming a participant, please send an email titled “FOCUS GROUP” to vsenterprisesfl@gmail.com by AUGUST 30 so that you’re included.
It will be a bcc interaction, so don’t worry about your individual opinion being lost in the mix.
I value your insight. Thanks!

 

Regards,
Von Simeon
Author, I Blew Up Juarez

1000 Likes! You Guys Are Awesome.

 

I Forgot How Trains Work

 Somewhere in Oklahoma…

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How dare you, Union Pacific, block off the ONLY road to the neighborhood I need to get to!! Alright, fine, roll on through…

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…keep it moving…

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…geeeeeeeeeez how long is this train? Hurry up slowpoke…

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…wait, WHAT? Why are you stopping? Here?? IN FRONT OF ME???

(several torporific minutes pass)

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BACKWARDS?!?! You just went– you were going — GAWDDAMMITSUMBITCCCCHHHH! 

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I HATE THIS PLACE!!! 

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Pinche tren.

 

UGH.

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