WitchyGypsy.com

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Tuesday, 30 March, 2010 @ 5:04 am

Due to some massive plagiarism, I am removing a few posts from my blog…I will also be taking some time to decide where I want this whole thing to go.  I’ve realized lately that I haven’t had the heart to blog as I used to.  All of my creative energy is currently being poured into my poetry and my novel and I don’t wish to jeopardize any of that progress.

I will continue to note randomly on Facebook, however, and if you wish to keep up with me, please send me a friend request.  www.facebook.com/layla.winterborne

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Monday, 22 March, 2010 @ 6:25 pm

Talk of VIP

Fame, Coins, but you still pronouce

it as RAM-a-DUH

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Sunday, 21 March, 2010 @ 1:55 pm

As I am a product of bits and pieces and smatterings, so is my life, it seems.

Most everyone that I know boasts of some awe inspiring moment in their life which now defines their very essence and being.  A shining, defining moment in which whether through success or failure or even apathy, they realized who they were and what type of path they wish to take in life.

I, however, do not possess one of these moments.

The decisions and use of reasoning that I use in my day to day cannot be traced back to some giant, cataclysmic moment in which I realize who I am.  Instead my decisions seem to rest solely upon the fact that my “defining moment” is nothing more than a maze of cyclic events in which I kept returning, facing, and failing until one day, I got the damn sequence right.  The code…pushing button after damn button until, out of the infinite, I made the right fucking choice and instead of door after door being slammed upon me once more, it opened and there ahead of me lay endless possibilities.

Many people whom I have mentioned this to state that there had to be some sort of “A-ha!” moment to my eventual success and, you know, if there was, I cannot for the life of me remember it.  It just doesn’t seem to be as simple as finding god or watching a loved one die from cancer or being struck by a lover or finding a new job.

For me…it’s a fucking conglomeration…a damn mixture of ingredients including new jobs and friends and lovers and downfalls and child loss and couches and pets and living arrangements and names and maybe…just maybe…I’ve finally gotten the damn thing right…

Or at least…I feel that I have.

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Sunday, 21 March, 2010 @ 12:15 am

So…this hot ass hooker that I’ve never met IRL but whom I blog stalk incessantly and who I am sure would have me burying my face in her tittays upon meeting her, bestowed upon me MY FIRST FUCKING AWARD EVER!!!

(And ya’ll, seriously, look at how fucking cute it is.  IT’S GOT A MOTHERFUCKING CUPCAKE ON IT!)

So thank you to T from www.itsmymomenttoshine.com for my first award ever.  You have no idea how incredibly stoked I am.  (Also, be my girlfriend, k?)

Now for the rules:

1. When you have received this award, you must thank the person that awarded you this in the new post.

2. Name the 10 things that make you happy

I mean…he cuddles with me at night and he puts up with my bullshit…so, I guess he can stick around…  ;)

Now…for MY Winners:

1.  Liz over at http://www.itsunbeweavable.com/.  I’m totally not a fashion diva such as she, but she’s beautiful and seemingly down to earth and doesn’t make me want to yank out all of my hair while talking about fashion.  =)

2. Hanna Miet.  http://www.hannahmiet.com/ I have never met anyone who twists words so beautifully.

3. Allie from http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ Alright, ya’ll…does she really need an explanation?  Fucking hilarious!

4. Brittney from http://lamidge.com/ She’s so adorable…also a fellow Texan.

5. http://www.notthatkindofgirl.net/ I’m not sure if I ever did catch your name…but I totes read your blog every time you post and I love it.

6. http://heyjayka.blogspot.com/ Even though I’m pretty sure you already have this award, I’m giving it to you again, dammit.  BTW, I’m in love with your “Love Your Body” post.  It’s brave in a way in which most American women are cowardly.

7. Jill from http://pilgrimcongress.com/ I’m pretty sure that if we ever met, we’d either be totes besties or end up spitting sarcastic and slightly non-committal tongue lashings at each other.

8.http://hipstercrite.blogspot.com/ LOVE

9.http://christinacrizacked.blogspot.com/ I didn’t think that it was possible, but this lovely lady just may enjoy the macabre more than I do.

10.http://lovecommalisa.com This girl is totally sweet and adorable…plus she was one of the first to comment on my blog.  =)  Lisa, that’s something that I’ve never forgotten.

Alright, I love all of you fine bitches, but I think thats enough sap for me today.  I need to throw around some “Fuck You’s” and “Oh Shit’s” and perhaps have some rough sex in order to wash this sickly sweet taste from my mouth.  ;)

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Monday, 8 March, 2010 @ 7:16 pm

Today was beautiful, in its own right.  Blustery and gray, though not unpleasant…

Days such as this always remind me of Sunday afternoons as a child…every window in the house thrown wide and every corner permeated with the scent of impending rain.  Candles flickered madly in the invading breeze and the soft whispers of the Sunday movie were barely audible through the rumbling of my fathers restless snores.  Even asleep he came across as lumbering, frightening, dangerous…Ocassionally, the smells of dinner could be caught, mingling with the outside air.  Blackeyed peas and cornbread.  Mashed potatoes and gravy.  Chicken fried steak…mostly, however, we were left to fend for ourselves…children providing for children because the adults were “too tired” or simply just didn’t have time.

Looking back I can’t say that I hold such memories fondly or even with disdain…just memories brought about by a multitude of factors…The smell of rain dancing upon the air or perhaps the way the muted light filters in through the windows.  I look back and think of how different life could have been…then…though these thoughts are quickly wisked away as I am reminded of how fine life is now.

This moment.

It’s not always bad to miss the forest for the trees.

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Saturday, 27 February, 2010 @ 3:05 pm

I apologize for the long hiatus, everyone. I am currently dealing with a miscarriage and haven’t really had the energy to write anything.

I do hope that all of you are well. We will return to your regularly scheduled programming soon.

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Monday, 15 February, 2010 @ 2:08 pm

Is there a reason why this woman must speak so loudly of her children as she walks them around and around this small business space? The children cry as their stroller loops around once, twice, three times as she continues to titter excitedly into her bluetooth. “Shut up, Carter!” She cries.

***

Red hair. Not fiery nor mousy. She’s dressed as though planning for a ski trip, though I can’t imagine skiing with such large hoops in my ears. Her speech is slow and languid as she complains loudly of this assignment and that assignment, her date from the night before overpowering her work at hand. Annoying, annoying, annoying peppers the conversation as she claims that her procrastination is not her fault. “I’ve just been so busy!” She exclaims as she hurriedly brushes her perfect hair away from her stress furrowed face. “It just seems that everyone is having a birthday or getting married at the same time. I just don’t see how professors expect us to keep up with all of this work!”

***

Your face stands out, sour, amongst the sea of smiling women. Laughter, Thank You’s, and clapping hands echo throughout the theatre and yet my eye is pulled toward the anger in your face. Arms and legs crossed in a way which separates you from the world. Jane, your feelings seem so hurt by positive criticism.

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Thursday, 11 February, 2010 @ 8:57 pm

The New Boss: You’re Jewish, right?

Me: Um…no.  I’m about 1/4 Czech and 3/4 Comanche.

The New Boss: Czech + Comanche= Jew.

*******************************************************************

Ya’ll, I’m not really sure why anyone trusts me to drive their car.  Hell, I don’t even trust myself to drive a car.  I have gotten so used to riding my scooter everyone that every time I try to turn, I find myself leaning in the direction of the turn and being reminded of playing Mario Kart 64 and thinking…hoping…that if I turned the controller in the direction in which I needed to go, that perhaps, I wouldn’t go sliding off the side of the cliff and go from 1st place to 12th.

(Fucking Peach man…she ALWAYS got me.)

But seriously…I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty competent driver but I swear to god…these past couple of days with the rain and everyone freaking out about OMGSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOWSNOW but everyone knows that it doesn’t snow in fucking SOUTH TEXAS.  The most that we get is slushy rain…I CAN’T SEE THE DAMN LINES ON THE ROAD.  You would think that Texas, of all states, would spend a little more money on making sure that we can see what fucking lane we’re supposed to be in.  I also cringe every time I drive by a police officer because I’m convinced that they’re automatically going to assume that I’m drunk and pull me over and haul me to jail…and I totally can’t go to jail because I’m fragile and then they’ll discover that I don’t really work at a bakery but that I’m actually a prostitute that does lines of coke off of rich guys dicks for cheeseburgers.

(Oh hey ya’ll…on that note.  I’m not an event coordinator anymore.  Seriously, I decided to join the glamorous life of street walkers.  Only I’m a little more creative with my time spent with the dudes.)

(I’m totally serious about the street walker gig.)

(And by totally serious, I mean not at all.)

(Okay, maybe a little.)

(No, not really.)

I’m about one car trip away from taking on the task of repainting every single road stripe by hand.

***So everyone knows how much I love naked vagina…here’s a link to a website that you should go check out.  Not safe for work and more puss than I can ever hope to have.  https://guesshermuff.blogspot.com

This is one of those rare Internet gems that one hardly ever sees now a days.  Totally classy and wholesome.  A definite family pleaser.  Seriously!  You should use it as an ice breaker when you go meet your boyfriends parents this weekend.

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Saturday, 6 February, 2010 @ 1:45 pm

There is a melancholy…a shimmer which hangs upon the thick, humid air, begging to be touched. 

An electric pulse entering through outstretched fingertips…beneath fingernails…soul wrenching vibrations which leave you gasping for breath, eyes watering…and everything seems so dark…so dark.

It’s always this time of year…with impending spring and the way the sunlight filters through the slants of the blinds.  The melancholy embraces me in a way that my lovers have yet to replicate.  Enveloped, surrounded by a deep pulse which reverberates deep echos that pound…in and out…in and out.  And god!  If only I could be loved so deeply…to feel the pounding in the hollow of my throat…in my abdomen…in the soles of my feet…the palm of my hands…my heart…my soul…

To feel IT in every fiber of my being.

The melancholy does not embrace me now as it did then…and I find myself grasping, crying out…Demanding that it touch me.  Love me.  And yet he still flits…flirting at the edges, touching me in ways that raise the flesh and leave me yearning…begging…to feel.  An inconsistent lover…a “booty call”…kissing me lightly with quick flicks of the tongue…touching mine…lightly grazing my teeth, my cheek…but never lingering.

As much as I surrender…he will not take me.

Posted by Layla Winterborne on Tuesday, 26 January, 2010 @ 11:25 pm

The days which once ebbed and flowed together in a delightful blur have become jerky and mangled in their flow.  Once beautiful in it’s own surreal fashion, I am approaching a month of minimal sleep which instead of turning me into a productive and poetic insomniac, as it often times is wont to do, I have become a mind numbed zombie whose only desire is to laze about, not quite taking in the images displayed in the soft glow of the television in front of me.

I am not an avid tv watcher.

Reading and social networking seem to require more effort and strength than I currently possess and my writing has fallen by the wayside.  Cory blames the majority of this sudden turn inward on work and the loathing which I feel towards it…and I am apt to agree.

Though I try to not let work interfere with my personal life, it is beginning to take its toll.  14 hour days at a place that I hate…arriving home exhausted and not being greeted by sleep because you dread tomorrow…

My creativity has been sapped.

I have found, though, that in my stupor I spend more time talking to the animals who share this house with me.  However, I do not talk to them as though they were babies.  I just can’t do it.  Hell, I don’t even talk to babies like they’re  babies.  I often times find myself addressing children as if they were adults.  Baby talk is grating to the ear and it makes me uncomfortable talking to “Wittle Wobby Wob” and looking for his “binky”.  *shudder*

As a child, I was obsessed with proving that I was a smart as the adults.  Even now there are days in which I feel that this is something that still must be proven.  Every year, as the clock of life moves another year forward, I find myself promising that this year will different…that 21 will be the year in which I will be viewed as “an adult”…22 will be the year…23…

Yet, why do I still feel like such a child?  Because in my own way I am foolish? 

Anyway…

I DO talk with the animals, though.  A LOT.

The ruler of the house, Zeus, is the one with whom I have the majority of my conversations.  He is always more than willing to sit and listen politely as I discuss books and my love for raspberries and give him advice on his life.  He is a terrible begger of food and instead of yelling at him (because he is terribly adorable), I attempt to have rational conversations with him about his addiction.

I’m constantly trying to help with his problem, and, you know, of course he doesn’t respond.  He’s a dog.  The most I’m apt to get out of him is a look of eager hope asking “Hunk of cheese?  Ham?  Even that boiled egg would do!”

I’ve been approached by several people, commenting that my talking to the dog about his problems is actually quite crazy in itself and I understand this.  While I do ask open ended questions, I realize that he will never understand me on any type of meaningful level and…even if he did…he could never respond…

I was told that talking to the dog was folly…that these conversations aren’t REAL…

…and I’m no atheist but…

The damn dog is RIGHT THERE…begging for cold cuts right at mine and your feet.  If you and I are real then so is he.  We are all on the same basic level of REAL.

A dog in the hand equals two invisible beings in the bush.

The dog does not speak ENGLISH but at least he IS.