(Warning: seasonal depression triggers, contains the word cunt, probably NSFW).

Switch music to the Flight of the Bumblebee by Nikolai Rimsky- Korsakov

Cuzzz it’s gonna be a fast one.

This is an intermission blog before the annual blog I’ve been writing will be published. Fingers crossed: circa FALL 2023.

I hear your inquiries to publish stories fueled with endless humiliation but this time we’re gonna do things differently. Im taking the reins of my own demise.

SO, the other day I invited a few of my friends to the rooftop pool. One friend happens to be a poet and we all had a reading out loud.

While splashing around with Don Julio trickling down the sides of our mouth, I stumbled across this poem I wrote in 2016.

I had submitted it to the Poetry Magazine to which they replied five months later:

Unfortunately, your submission isn’t quite right for us. Thank you very much, though, for sending work our way – and thank you for your interest in POETRY magazine.

Sincerely,

The Editors

POETRY

Well in order to heal this a-hurtin’ 2016 ego, I’m publishing it here because fuck The Editors at Poetry.

The title goes as follows:

Why I’ll end up being alone

Here’s a few reasons why I’ll end up alone

Buried deeply single I’m prone

I don’t like taking showers in doubles

I always talk back, which gets me in trouble

I become nauseous at the sound of chewing

And despise the condescending tune of cooing

They say in order to love,

one must love oneself

But the most I’ve loved in the reflection of me

Is the fact that I’m independent, let me clarify, not spiteful you see

Just another busy woman,

who prizes the 21st century

Building the tallest citadel,

pinky promise not out of fury

Perhaps a little bit mistrusting

And a lot a bit comes from lusting

My first muse was American

Sadly our spiritual differences I could not stand

My second was Aussie,

But the more time passed, the more his pirate-mouth made him look lousy

How many times can a person use the word cunt?

“That cunt of a squirrel! That cunt can’t cook! Oh you funny cunt!”

Well I’ve taken an oath to never mold, only to inspire

To be restlessly bold

and accept all in which THEY desire

So onward, into the codependent arena again!

I went head-first, arms out, my heart claimed he was a ten

The German native I met

Whilst in Bamberg

Only to meet my greatest rival yet,

I swear you’ll find it absurd

Two years of jäger, cheese,

Beer, sausage,

sarcasm cooked with greed

Thrusted within the depths of insecurity,

Bent over the knee of inhumanity

Soaked with ethnocentrism

I fled

No more imprisoned

With the help of Californian wind

Draining from the pipes of sin

Adamant that I’ll end up alone

With no removal of this sword stuck in my stone

…depressing, I know. And okay I admit, which wholesome publication on God’s green earth is going to publish a poem that contains the word “cunt” and not just once, but FOUR times?

Anyway a lot has changed since then. I actually enjoy taking showers in doubles now.

AND let me tell you this, I’ve never actually been alone.

Right after I left the German native, I had the most beautiful relationship that following year. I had been working in PR for fashion week and he had been a runway model from Switzerland. Our first date was a hike up Griffith Park. It was tragic. Sweat was running down my face and back. I was huffing and puffing while this 6’2 built-to-the gods man was at ease, not a single drip down his chiseled face. OF course I fucked that relationship up BUT that blog is for another time.

NOW, this year, I broke my sabbatical, had a mental breakdown, lost my mojo, had some major breakthroughs, thought I regained the mojo (FALSE) but all in all became comfortable with being alone…that is, until the day I said aloud to my friends, “I really found peace and happiness being by myself! I feel this freedom I haven’t felt in a really long time. I feel just painlessly free.”

Was this the keywords to amass a surge of karmic energy from the universe to resurrect lost bodies back to the forefront of my sabbatical? And trust me, the sabbatical, that is, my journey to re-virginize, and sequester myself into a state of pure orderly AND ordinary blissful singleton life has been the best journey of all. AKA no intimacy, AKA no sex, (UNTIL I had a real connection, with a potential LONG TERM partner).

Alas, with a little lack of self-discipline, and a pinch of seduction, my sabbatical was infiltrated. The ol’ wolves in sheep’s clothing tactic.

And while I love the Millennial Mother title, I really should have named it the Millennial Serial Dater. Thinking I created this site to rant about the hardships of baby momma drama, which I did sufficely, but now in current reality being Kam’s momma has been thrilling and magical.

After learning how to mentally put the baby daddy on mute, nothing he does or says can possibly affect me.

My daughter has become my vault and I hers. Our promises, deep secrets, crushes, faults, insecurities, wishes, mistakes, and hopes lay enclosed in a hidden tomb that only the Lord himself can unearth. So when my daughter told me that when the baby daddy, got upset with me one day and told her about my OnlyFans, (stalker much??) I had to laugh, she was there when I thought of the idea to even make one.

Let’s be real, I was in a film recently where the entire urban demographic of Tubi viewers saw my chesticles. Which as far as I’m concerned, is the entire demographic of Tubi platform users.

I really never had a problem taking selfies but I did have a problem with people asking me for pictures all the time. Now I just send a link. Take it or leave it, IDGAF. The kind of pictures I post are the kind of pictures people post on their public socials for free. I have zero shame in the game. And now that we’re here, Click here!

IYKYK

Anyway, moving forward now I enclose this small excerpt with the last day of summer dimming within itself, the temperature is falling, and the dawn of a brand new fall is amongst us.

Something is in the semi-fresh air of good ol’ Southern California and I’m vastly prepared for it. Stay tuned if you wish.

C U Next Tuesday. The dramatics and theatrics are real.

Apple Music now plays: Sitting, Waiting, Wishing – Jack Johnson