Decorate: (v) to furnish or adorn with something ornamental or becoming

It is not picky.

It is not fussy.

It is not flamboyant.

Nor is it feminine or gay.

It is a natural inclination which we stifle.

That being: to decorate.

Yes, it is our human instinct to take something that is given to us and in making it our own, add our touches and personality.

We decorate.

We’re not all decorators by profession.

We don’t run around the room pointing at things, frantically uttering ideas that are popping into our minds.

But we do decorate.

It is our way of establishing turf.

It is one of the ways we distinguish our poverty-stricken hut from the dilapidated one next door.

It is also the process we use to make our yacht stand out among the other yachts floating on the ocean blue.

We decorate.

It makes us delightful.

When we allow ourselves to consider what color tie we will wear with our suit or whether tennis shoes are appropriate for a night out dining in the city, or if we think the desk that is now in the left-hand corner is screaming to be right-cornered…

Whatever it is, we possess it, we own it—and it makes us endearing.

And as I said, it is not gender biased.

For men will take their bathroom supplies and stack them just as fastidiously as their lady friends.

  • Decorate.
  • Replenish the Earth.
  • And be fruitful about it.



Burly: (adj) large and strong; heavily built.

How strong does a man have to be to attract a woman?

How feminine should a lady be to draw the attention of a male suitor?

We have so many rules and regulations in our society that twist us into believing that if we don’t conform to a certain protocol or image, we are doomed.

For years I’ve been concerned about being masculine. It’s not that I lack the appearance of being burly, but I’ve still been self-conscious about whether my pursuits in music and the arts might make me come off a bit “soft.” And God forbid a man should look soft–we believe that’s reserved for the female of our species. And God curse the woman who comes across as strong. That should be relegated to the male counterparts.


While trying to figure out what makes a man and a woman significantly noticeable, we’ve completely lost sight of what it means to be a human because both the female and the male are unwilling to give up any magical turf to comply and become equitable to one another.

I like strong women. It doesn’t make me weak, just as a woman liking a strong man doesn’t render her submissive.

At my advanced stage in life, would I still suck my gut in and over-rate my muscles when walking around a swimming pool?

I hope to God not.

But I’m greatly comforted that my blubbery body helps me avoid the deception.

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j-r-practix-with-border-2Boy: (n) a male child or young man.

The ultrasound.

It’s when the doctor or nurse tells the parents whether they’re going to have a boy or a girl.

How is it determined?

The boy has a penis, the girl doesn’t.

It is an effective way of confirming sexuality before birth.Dictionary B

Yet it is a terrible way of illuminating humanity after birth.

For you see, we begin to do additional ultrasounds on our children throughout their upbringing.

  • Are they playing with the right toys?
  • Are the young men rough and tumble and the girls feminine and meek?
  • Are they crossing lines which connote there may be some ambiguity?

We silently push all of our children toward sexual stereotypes instead of trying to allow them to become human beings.

It is my contention that the penis and the vagina will find each other without us turning it into a cultural mandate.

What we should be doing is teaching our children how to be human.

We should be sharing the beauty of cooperation and the power of respect.

We should stop being afraid of blurring the lines between the male and female, and realize that the wall we’ve built betwixt them is the atrocity.

I was born a boy.

I struggled with my manhood, and now, by the grace of God… I am discovering my humanity.

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Bisexual: (n) possessing attributes of both male and female within oneself

Sitting in a coffeehouse when I was only sixteen years old, a long-haired young college student with a cerebral profile and an air of Dictionary Bself-importance asked me, “Are you bisexual?”

Innocently, from my Midwestern naiveté, I replied, “No. I would never pay for a woman.”

Surviving that gentleman’s laughter and growing up in a society where such terms became more prevalently spoken, I now know that “bisexual” refers to a willingness, openness, or even yearning to have sexual relationships with people of both genders.

The opinion on this possibility has changed, even in the gay community.

In the past, those who had a predilection toward sharing romantic interests with the same sex were often annoyed with the concept of bisexuality. And I suppose the case could be made that if you are born heterosexual, or born homosexual, where is the evidence that you could be born bisexual?

But setting aside the nonsense of conflict, let us go back to the purity of the definition: “possessing attributes of both male and female within oneself.”

I personally think that’s a positive.

Even men who insist their masculinity is incapable of being penetrated by any feminine aspect whatsoever will eventually sprout some sort of fear of an “icky-poo” or a threatening spider.

And women, who would appear to be the fairy dust of heaven and the dew on the morning rose, will fart at will, and pull off the most amazing physical feats.

Maybe in the sense of human sexuality there is a great depth of mutuality which we’re all just afraid to consider–because it might make us appear to be too weak or too strong.

I don’t know.

But I will advance the theory that when either men or women are sexually aroused, what has aroused them is not nearly as important as culminating the action.

So what can we learn?

If by bisexual you are referring only to physically desiring carnal pleasure with other people of either gender–well, I will leave that to your imagination.

But if by bisexual you might be inkling to the notion that men and women have more in common than difference, then I would say you have just made a sharp right turn … back to Eden.

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Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Affectation: (n) behavior, speech or writing that is artificial and designed to impress: e.g. the affectation of a man who measures every word for effect

Carlotti loved women with a burning passion that seared his soul with a fire of desire over the fabulous feminine flowers that paraded before him. It was a concoction of tenderness mingled with a ferocity of energy that at times made him feel as if he would be of danger to a young maiden, yet greatly relieved when only pleasure came her way.

Although he felt this bursting exuberance for all the daughters of Eve, it was Darnella, the Lovely, who was the center of his attention, and a fuel to his consuming fire.

Complicating his drive and vigorous vitality was the fact that he was a vampire, so blended with his gentle touch was the uncontrollable desire to not only smell, feel and embrace the object of his affection, but also … to taste it.

But an additional grumbling and growling deep within the confines of his inner being was the awareness that because of an inter-marriage generations back in his family, he was also a werewolf.

How could he take the fragile Darnella and possess her with the entire magnitude of his virility without endangering her with the violence of the wolf?

Carlotti was a man possessed and obsessed at the same time. Nothing could keep him away from his Darnella. He desired to absorb her–not just for now, but for all eternity.

Ladies and gentlemen: affectation.

Or better phrased, a sampling of 21st Century American Literature.


Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acrylic: (adj.) referring to synthetic resins and textile fibers, made from polymers of acrylic acid or acrylates: e.g. a red acrylic sweater.

That’s not how I remember acrylics!

I don’t know when they happened on the scene, but they leave a nasty memory in my mind.

Up until time that acrylics came into full swing, I had two young women traveling with me who were helpful, energetic and quite functional in aiding me in setting up the sound equipment for our music group. I never heard a complaint. They never lamented that they were too weak, too feminine or too girly-girl. Even when a guy came up and tried to take something from their hands in an attempt to be gentlemanly, they would turn the guy down and continue to be efficient roadies.

That is–until acrylic nails came along. Those little boogers were sent to turn women into nervous ninnies.

First of all, they were not perfected. So when applied, being unnatural to the normal nail on a woman’s hand, they were very willing to separate and break off if you even PEERED at them. So since these dear ladies in my group had spent the money on this new nail treatment, and considering that it was a bit embarrassing to have nine intact but one busted and split like the side of a fiber-glass boat, the women became constantly worried–and refused to carry equipment.

So here I am, moving from a work force of three to just me, to tote that barge and lift that bale, because the girls must avoid laborious duty in order to protect their acrylics.

But the final insult was when they were in the process of dressing for the gig, and one would break anyway. So not only had I sweat in vain, but I had a comrade on stage who was frightened to extend her hand for fear that the audience would notice that she had been ingloriously de-clawed.

Now, I am sure these things have improved over the years, but the word “acrylic” still makes my skin crawl and reminds me of the night that I was wiggling around in the van, in the dark, feeling my way–to find a little piece of the crap that one of my friends insisted had just fallen off of her finger, and was therefore still retrievable.