The personal website of Nikol Hasler, having nothing at all to do with her employers.

Archive for June, 2012

A Special Kind of Insanity

Saturday, June 30th, 2012

This happens to me. This happens to me 12 times a year.

Did you know that a kid got decapitated after a dump truck slammed into his mom’s car and he lived! And his head is back on and everything?

Science and medicine have done some pretty amazing things. And yet, somehow, each and every month since I was 8 years old I have had to endure a full week of turning into an evil werewolf witch axe murder who cries about Pledge commercials and wants to rip off her own skin.

Honestly, it’s boring to have to endure a thing to which countless trucker hats and coffee mugs are devoted.

Making me happy: Infantree

Friday, June 29th, 2012

Listen

Submission: Stuck In Bed: Short Story By Mike Dalton

Friday, June 29th, 2012

NikolHasler.com is currently looking for your works of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, artwork and photography, hey, whatever, send a video, on the theme of “Stuck In Bed”. Please send these along with a bio and photo to nikolhasler at gmail dot com. Here is a submission from Mike Dalton.

Author Mike Dalton

It’s been so long now; I can’t even remember what year it was. I do recall that I was already living with
my wife so that must mean it was sometime in the past 40 or maybe 50 something years. I know this
because she regularly reminds me of things like what my name is, how many children we have, what
their names are, how long we’ve been married and the fact that I am no longer legally able to drive a
car.

She doesn’t do these things to hurt me. I know I’m old… and a little more than absentminded. She
apparently thinks I don’t hear so good either, ‘cuz I’ve overheard her talking on the phone to God knows
who. She told ‘em she thinks I have some form of dementia or Alzheimer’s… and maybe she’s right. All
I know is that the times (like now) when things are sharp and clear in my mind, seem to be getting fewer
and further between. I’m just thankful I can remember how she took care of me all those years ago, but
that’s actually putting the cart before the horse.

Like most newlyweds and young couples of the day, we were struggling to makes ends meet. We’d
done what everyone else had done and got married, bought a little house and started a family. We even
had a picket fence, but it wasn’t white. It was just plain, untreated wood… or as my brother used to call
it, “naked as a jaybird”. All it was, was I hadn’t gotten around to painting it yet. Of course then I got
hurt, and that changed everything. (more…)

Submission: Stuck In Bed: Haiku

Thursday, June 28th, 2012

 

 

by Danielle Hlatkey

 

Cactus knocked off sill

Cactus falls on me with quills

I am stuck in bed

Maybe I’m a Prude

Thursday, June 28th, 2012

And if I am, I don’t really care.

A few days ago I put out a call for submissions of writing, art, photography, all on the theme “Stuck In Bed”. Now, I get it. People have sex in beds (sometimes). And I have never been one to shy away from sexy talk. In fact, Molly Snyder’s poem put a smile on my face.

But, since then, the next six submissions I have gotten have been smut filled with all sorts of extremely explicit descriptions of sex acts. And, sometimes I actually read this stuff. You know, on erotica sites? Sometimes I google search certain types of erotica and I read it and I enjoy reading it. I have books of sexy stories, and those are either fun because they’re so silly or fun because they’re sexy.

But, COME THE FUCK ON. Since when has this web site been an erotica site? And are you guys so un-inspired, lacking creativity, that you can’t think to contribute anything on “Stuck In Bed” that isn’t sexual? Even my best fucking friend, who I respect for his ability to be a much better writer than I will ever be, insists on writing slash fiction for this.

And it’s just crap, you guys. Picture me like I’m Gordon Ramsey and this is my kitchen and you’ve just handed me risotto with a big dildo in it. I am yelling right now. Get out of my kitchen, you big donkeys.

I appreciate that you want to submit the stories you want to submit, but like I tell my writing students all the time, know your audience. And while a lot of the audience of this site are very open minded, sexy folks, there are also plenty of people, myself included, who don’t come here for the smut. And since I like working, and my work isn’t usually sex related, when people google my name and land on this site, it’d be nice to represent well.

Maybe I’m a prude. But, come on. You can be more creative than that.

Submission: Stuck In Bed: Molly Snyder

Wednesday, June 27th, 2012

O!

by Molly Snyder

Molly Snyder drinks too much, finds punctuation hot and is living in love while enduring loss.

At 18, I was stuck
in bed with mono, high
fever, depression.
Watched endless
TV, thought only of
that ticky wheel of fortune
and how I didn’t want to buy
any of Vanna’s vowels.
At 38, I was snug in bed
with he’s-not-my-husband
enjoying only one
vowel. (You know
which one). Landlocked
in the sack can be sickly
or sexy, but still –
it’s sailing on a mattress
of a skewed reality.

 

 

Don’t forget to email your own poems, short fiction, non-fiction, photos, and videos on the theme of “Stuck In Bed” to nikolhasler@gmail.com

Groupon Is A Temptress

Tuesday, June 26th, 2012

Being stuck in bed, I have an awful lot of time between naps and watching entire series in one sitting to look at Groupon. Luckily, I don’t have the cash to buy anything, or this would get expensive.

What I have decided, however, is that once I am done with all of this cancery nonsense, I want to finally do something that I’ve been wanting to do my whole life. And every single day, Groupon, you temptress, you send me more emails about the sorts of things I could be doing.

Look at this beautiful promise of interracial familial bowling fun!

 

No, I’m not just talking about laser hair removal, which, I gotta say, if I had laser hair, why would I have it removed? That sounds cool as hell. And while 70% off memory foam pillows is a great deal, I don’t think I should have memory foam anywhere near my bed. Let’s face it. I’d give memory foam PTSD. In a few weeks it would be repressed memory foam.

What I’m talking about is the crazy shit like sky diving and parasailing in a weird car-shaped thing. Or jumping off of shit, or climbing up things, or going to Cabo San Lucas. I have never, in my whole 33 years of life, been on a vacation. It’s about time that I do that, isn’t it?

And I know these are all daydreams that seem pretty far-fetched once I realize I don’t have two nickels to rub together. I mean, who dreams of Cabo when they’re buying discount meat at Fresh & Easy? Well, I do. And I want to thank you, Groupon, for giving me things to daydream about. Keep it up. Show me all the four night stays in Montego Bay that you can muster, because when I close my eyes when the drugs kick in, I can picture myself jumping out of a plane for $125, falling through the air toward my ocean-side Jamaica beach hotel, fully relaxed from my day at the spa.

Call for Submissions: Stuck In Bed

Monday, June 25th, 2012

Hey hey hey.

So, I promise I’ll get back to the writing board soon enough. For now:

Do you like to write? Do you like me? Do you like it when I read what you write? This is an open call for submission to be published on NikolHasler.com. Right now I am looking for works on the theme: “Stuck In Bed”. I want to see poems that don’t suck, artwork, photographs, works of fiction, and personal stories on whatever your interpretation of the theme is.

Good looking people should not seem this unhappy about being in bed together.

 

Email them to me at NikolHasler@gmail.com and I will email you back letting you know when your submission will be published. Include a photo and short bio please.

Under The Knife : Over the Hype

Thursday, June 21st, 2012

By the time this is published, I will be passed out, I will be naked and someone will be cutting me. No, I haven’t joined a new fetish club. I’ve just scheduled this to be posted during my 8 hour long surgery that may possibly remove all of the remaining cancer in my body.

I love that she's still keeping it sexy with that left arm up over the head.

There are five tumors. When I think of it, I’m a bit bothered. They’re not massive tumors. They’re pretty damn small, really. I can feel some of them, but the others are so tiny that it’s more like someone dropped a skittle in my lymphatic system. All of them are in my lymphatic system. I’ve come to learn an awful lot about lymph nodes in these past few years. Once upon a time I thought you only had, I dunno, three or four. So, when they told me that they needed to remove five of them, holy beans, that would have put me down a few. Turns out, you’ve got a shitload of lymph nodes. Having cancer all over them isn’t a great idea, but they don’t need to create robotic lymph nodes to replace the ones they’re taking out.

Speaking of fetish clubs, one of the questions you have to answer on OkCupid is something like “If you died suddenly, would your friends and family be surprised when they went through your things?” And, I answered, “No.” But, it’s not because I don’t have anything that would normally be considered shocking. I just happen to be so goddam outward in the many parts that make up my life that there’s nothing to get shocked over. It’s pretty freeing, too. Once I was able to stop being so worried about how people would feel about me if they knew the boring parts, the mean parts, the happy parts, the unstable parts, the parts that get things wrong or right or hadn’t gotten it figured out yet, I was able to find a new kind of happiness. Contentment, really. And it’s made me so much more accepting of other people, because it led to an understanding that nobody has all their shit figured out.

It’s funny that I’m writing this right now, needing for it to hit the internet while I am away, as if me keeping up the conversation with the handful of people who read this is going to make a huge difference in the outcome. I feel such a need for everything to just be totally normal. I don’t want there to be a gap in time indicating a non-presence. Fear leads to funny logic.

I was babbling nervously to my friend Nima about all the things that run through my brain as I prepare to go under the knife. There’s so much extra noise right now, and altogether none of it makes much sense. When I try to tumble it out of me, it’s just disjointed. Luckily, nobody tells you to shut up when you’re all cancery.

One of the things that I was rambling to him about- I think along the lines of regrets- was that I honestly don’t think anyone has ever fallen in love with me. It’s a terrible realization, like a thud in my gut. I feel like I’m a really easy person to care about, and at times I am temporarily intensely interesting. But when it comes to falling in love, I feel as though I’m just not cut out for it on the receiving end. It bothers me, and I suppose that’ll lead me toward some sort of doing-something-about-it, you know, with therapy and all that stuff.

I’ve been having trouble knowing what to say to people lately, and they’ve all been really supportive. My responses to people have been cold, measured. I don’t know what to say when people say they’ll be rooting for me, thinking of me, sending me positive vibes. I don’t feel much right now beyond kind of lost. Over the years I’ve had periods of time in which I’ve suffered from a psychotic fear that I don’t really exist. At times it’s been crippling. Imagine the feeling, if you can. And at times that feeling has been so real. I haven’t gone through it for years, but lately what I’ve been feeling is similar, only opposite.

I’ve been feeling as though I know with a clear certainty that I exist. But just as clearly as that, I understand that it doesn’t really matter. The space I take would easily and otherwise be occupied by air. This isn’t to say I don’t think that I have the ability to have an impact on others. There are many positive things that I have accomplished, and many more than I plan to accomplish. It’s more that, even if I didn’t or hadn’t, I feel like nothing really matters as much as I believed it did when I was young.

I wish there were something in this that were positive- some Wonder Years moment where I talk about how far I’ve come or what I’ve learned. Nothing I am writing right now will neatly tie together in an ending paragraph. I don’t even know what the point of writing this is. What I do know is that this is yet another part of me that I feel okay sharing. This is the free thought space, and it’s not entirely sunshiney.

I guess I’m hopeful that once my head clears up a little bit; gets uncluttered by fear and anxiety, it’ll be like landing in Oz, with some form of vibrancy and color returning to my dealings with my life. For now, I need to be okay with the way things are in my head. And you need to be, too.

Happy Summer, everyone. See you tomorrow.

Photos from one year ago

Tuesday, June 19th, 2012

Very accurate