The Words:
stripes, purple, teeth, cookies, sugar, eggs, medicine, chicken, mascara, desk, eyes
**
"You can get away with anything today."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean stripe stockings and chicken wings. You can get away with it all."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you celebrate it there?"
"Celebrate?"
"Holy shit... you don't know about it!"
"I don't know what?"
"Welcome to America dude... it's a special day today."
"I don't understand."
"People dress up, and they can get away with it. I've seen everything from purple teeth to guys with badly applied mascara on their eyelashes to four people being a desk to eggs in a grumpy old man's mailbox because he didn't give out candy."
"Mascara?"
"Nevermind. Just listen to me. And learn."
"What you are?"
"The Cookie Monster."
"Oh. He's blue."
"Damn man, he's ALWAYS blue."
"Oh."
"What do you want to be?"
"A Medicine man."
"A Doctor?"
"Yes."
"For today?"
"Forever."
October 31, 2009
October 30, 2009
Paranoia
The Words:
penguin, flu, arrow, pen, wire, water, flower, disgust, brick, cunning, speechless
**
I hate the boy sitting in front of me. If I had an arrow, or a dart I wouldn't hesitate taking a shot at his uglier-than-quasimodo back. It isn't hunched or crooked really, but it's a window. A window for all things which made my throat clench in disgust and left me damnably speechless.
See, most people have bricks stocked up, cunning walls built up. I'm used to that, just like being used to using water to keep a flower alive. But his walls are non-existent. It's like finding a penguin that doesn't have its cute little wobble. If I stuck something into him, it would disappear.
I twirl my pen and watch the clock. God, I need to get away from this kid. As if some reciprocal wireless connection existed between us, he turns and says, "Hi." I close my eyes and wish I could pretend not to hear, but I did hear him and I did need to answer. God, I hate him for being so real.
I open my eyes and am staring abck into his hazel ones.
"Do you have Swine flu?" I hear myself say, "I can smell it on you."
penguin, flu, arrow, pen, wire, water, flower, disgust, brick, cunning, speechless
**
I hate the boy sitting in front of me. If I had an arrow, or a dart I wouldn't hesitate taking a shot at his uglier-than-quasimodo back. It isn't hunched or crooked really, but it's a window. A window for all things which made my throat clench in disgust and left me damnably speechless.
See, most people have bricks stocked up, cunning walls built up. I'm used to that, just like being used to using water to keep a flower alive. But his walls are non-existent. It's like finding a penguin that doesn't have its cute little wobble. If I stuck something into him, it would disappear.
I twirl my pen and watch the clock. God, I need to get away from this kid. As if some reciprocal wireless connection existed between us, he turns and says, "Hi." I close my eyes and wish I could pretend not to hear, but I did hear him and I did need to answer. God, I hate him for being so real.
I open my eyes and am staring abck into his hazel ones.
"Do you have Swine flu?" I hear myself say, "I can smell it on you."
October 29, 2009
Pit
The Words:
exhausted, revenge, extremely major, interruption, why, entertainment, friendship, happily every after, honesty, jealousy
**
There is an exhausted voice in my head that keeps asking why. It's like self-entertainment, an almost happily-ever-after rebellion to the actual revenge. Losing you wasn't like pouring water down the drain. Keeping you where you are is like watching a humming bird's wings: there, but never there. And where I keep you is dangerous.
You were just sitting there with your book, and I was watching, this sweet sort of jealousy crawling up my spine. The jealousy of beauty. The jealousy of eloquence. A painter would only need one glance to see it. But you were sitting there with your book and the phone rang. Interruption. I let it ring and at the second one, you lifted your head and looked at me. Third ring. I ran. Halfway through fourth and I was saying something into the mouth piece.
Perhaps at that moment, you were putting the cherry in your mouth.
It was Francis. Your Francis. Your epitome of the perfect gay-straight friendship, Francis. He told me hello. You were chewing the cherry now. I smiled because I liked Francis. He was my epitome of fun honesty. I was laughing now. And you were swallowing.
He told me that there would be champagne and cheese. The kind from Europe and otherwise. I told him you were busy. You were busy turning blue. He laughed and said I was such a hogger. I laughed back and said But she's mine first, right? You were screaming soundlessly. He laughed some more and told me to be there at 8. I said maybe. You were fainting.
I hooked the phone back. Francis was such a goof I said, and walked in.
You were gone.
Losing you wasn't like pouring water down the drain. Keeping you where you are is like watching a humming bird's wings: there, but never there.
And where I keep you is dangerous.
exhausted, revenge, extremely major, interruption, why, entertainment, friendship, happily every after, honesty, jealousy
**
There is an exhausted voice in my head that keeps asking why. It's like self-entertainment, an almost happily-ever-after rebellion to the actual revenge. Losing you wasn't like pouring water down the drain. Keeping you where you are is like watching a humming bird's wings: there, but never there. And where I keep you is dangerous.
You were just sitting there with your book, and I was watching, this sweet sort of jealousy crawling up my spine. The jealousy of beauty. The jealousy of eloquence. A painter would only need one glance to see it. But you were sitting there with your book and the phone rang. Interruption. I let it ring and at the second one, you lifted your head and looked at me. Third ring. I ran. Halfway through fourth and I was saying something into the mouth piece.
Perhaps at that moment, you were putting the cherry in your mouth.
It was Francis. Your Francis. Your epitome of the perfect gay-straight friendship, Francis. He told me hello. You were chewing the cherry now. I smiled because I liked Francis. He was my epitome of fun honesty. I was laughing now. And you were swallowing.
He told me that there would be champagne and cheese. The kind from Europe and otherwise. I told him you were busy. You were busy turning blue. He laughed and said I was such a hogger. I laughed back and said But she's mine first, right? You were screaming soundlessly. He laughed some more and told me to be there at 8. I said maybe. You were fainting.
I hooked the phone back. Francis was such a goof I said, and walked in.
You were gone.
Losing you wasn't like pouring water down the drain. Keeping you where you are is like watching a humming bird's wings: there, but never there.
And where I keep you is dangerous.
October 28, 2009
For Emily
The Words:
ominous, hide away, bloom, desire, modern, dawn, significant, translucent, cable, coast, livid
**
What livid voice - hear it?-
dawns, Ominous -- significant
hide away spots tremble. A
Cable from this to - that -
Modern coast of thoughts:
unstopping thoughts - bloom -
Desire? Oh you lie - stop -
Lying! I don't want things:
Translucent somethings -
anything - but that -- knot
tying trysts among - rogue -
chess pieces dying to play again.
ominous, hide away, bloom, desire, modern, dawn, significant, translucent, cable, coast, livid
**
What livid voice - hear it?-
dawns, Ominous -- significant
hide away spots tremble. A
Cable from this to - that -
Modern coast of thoughts:
unstopping thoughts - bloom -
Desire? Oh you lie - stop -
Lying! I don't want things:
Translucent somethings -
anything - but that -- knot
tying trysts among - rogue -
chess pieces dying to play again.
October 27, 2009
F It
The Words:
fractured, foolish, fleeting, fury, fragmentation, figure, formative, finite, faint, flounder, fecundity
**
Ah this line, this LINE. What would go? What would go with it? Why am I a damn poet? No one reads poetry anymore. Dammit this li-- wait wait. I got it. I--
Foolish Flemish Figure
Flounders in Fury, Formatively
Fainting: Foot Fractured, Fragmentation,
Finite. Fleeting Fecundity Fails Forei--
Oh I suck, I SUCK. Since when did I think I was good? Since-- oh wait. Another... ano--
Fleeting Fecundity Forces
Foolish Flemish to Flounder in
Fury, Fainting: Foot Fractured, Frag-
mentation Finite. Formativ--
Argh. No. No no no. not right. Formative. Formative. Where is the dictionary, where is-- Ah. F. F, F, F... F-O... F-O-R-M... There-- there it is , the cel-- OH GOD my coffee... coffee! Spilled! My F's! Stay, stay! No... paper towel! PAPER towe--
Oh, F it.
fractured, foolish, fleeting, fury, fragmentation, figure, formative, finite, faint, flounder, fecundity
**
Ah this line, this LINE. What would go? What would go with it? Why am I a damn poet? No one reads poetry anymore. Dammit this li-- wait wait. I got it. I--
Foolish Flemish Figure
Flounders in Fury, Formatively
Fainting: Foot Fractured, Fragmentation,
Finite. Fleeting Fecundity Fails Forei--
Oh I suck, I SUCK. Since when did I think I was good? Since-- oh wait. Another... ano--
Fleeting Fecundity Forces
Foolish Flemish to Flounder in
Fury, Fainting: Foot Fractured, Frag-
mentation Finite. Formativ--
Argh. No. No no no. not right. Formative. Formative. Where is the dictionary, where is-- Ah. F. F, F, F... F-O... F-O-R-M... There-- there it is , the cel-- OH GOD my coffee... coffee! Spilled! My F's! Stay, stay! No... paper towel! PAPER towe--
Oh, F it.
October 26, 2009
Maggie
The Words:
apocryphal, imitation meat, live interment, virtuoso marimba player, gang of male prostitutes, self-immolation, Freudian discipline, apologetic litany, velcro shoes with spurs, historical anomaly, disturbing mustache.
**
Why was I going to be eating imitation meat? I shook my head as I sat down on my orange futon. This was a sorry day. I could hear her, scuttling around in my closet kitchen, waiting for some broccoli to self-immolate because she forgot to keep watch. Broccoli. I hated broccoli. I switched on the TV and wondered what apologetic litany I would receive for my feminine, veganized dinner.
I was chuckling at the arrest of a gang of male prostitutes when suddenly I felt something tracing the side of my neck. A split second later, my mind caught up: oh, it's her. There was something about Maggie that kept me from kicking her away. I keep trying to define my attachment with a Freudian discipline, but she was always on top of me before I could complete the thought. I caught her fingers with the crease of my neck as I looked up at her face. It always struck me how apocryphal it was, how utterly devoid of passion, or thought. I quickly let the fingers go and she changed the channel, reaching over the top of the futon. The sound was now being made by a virtuoso marimba player, arms flying over the set. I was half waiting for her to show me a pair of velcro shoes with spurs as she dangled there on the edge, watching the musician.
But she didn't. It would have been no historical anomaly if she had, by the way. She played with the world like it was a toy. Sometimes I wondered if I'd wake up in a box, a victim of live internment, and scream only to be humiliated later by her laughter, an inch above my voice. She had spent a day with a disturbing mustache drawn with a marker over her slender lips, acting completely oblivious of the fact. At the end of it all, she had kissed me with it still on, laughing, "And no one said a word to me Jared! No one!"
The broccoli was burning.
"Don't bother." She said, "I know you hate it."
She turned and walked off.
apocryphal, imitation meat, live interment, virtuoso marimba player, gang of male prostitutes, self-immolation, Freudian discipline, apologetic litany, velcro shoes with spurs, historical anomaly, disturbing mustache.
**
Why was I going to be eating imitation meat? I shook my head as I sat down on my orange futon. This was a sorry day. I could hear her, scuttling around in my closet kitchen, waiting for some broccoli to self-immolate because she forgot to keep watch. Broccoli. I hated broccoli. I switched on the TV and wondered what apologetic litany I would receive for my feminine, veganized dinner.
I was chuckling at the arrest of a gang of male prostitutes when suddenly I felt something tracing the side of my neck. A split second later, my mind caught up: oh, it's her. There was something about Maggie that kept me from kicking her away. I keep trying to define my attachment with a Freudian discipline, but she was always on top of me before I could complete the thought. I caught her fingers with the crease of my neck as I looked up at her face. It always struck me how apocryphal it was, how utterly devoid of passion, or thought. I quickly let the fingers go and she changed the channel, reaching over the top of the futon. The sound was now being made by a virtuoso marimba player, arms flying over the set. I was half waiting for her to show me a pair of velcro shoes with spurs as she dangled there on the edge, watching the musician.
But she didn't. It would have been no historical anomaly if she had, by the way. She played with the world like it was a toy. Sometimes I wondered if I'd wake up in a box, a victim of live internment, and scream only to be humiliated later by her laughter, an inch above my voice. She had spent a day with a disturbing mustache drawn with a marker over her slender lips, acting completely oblivious of the fact. At the end of it all, she had kissed me with it still on, laughing, "And no one said a word to me Jared! No one!"
The broccoli was burning.
"Don't bother." She said, "I know you hate it."
She turned and walked off.
October 24, 2009
Confessions of a Doodler
The Words:
bogus, tight, curls, scribble, salmon, had, worshiped, machinery, holistic, genealogy, lambasted
**
My fingers constantly move. Seriously. Like machinery switched on and never stopped. And no, it's not a trait in my grandiose genealogy. What is it with people and chromosomes? Anyway, it isn't some bogus, long named disorder either... a holistic doctor might relate it to some stupid stress outlet theory, but I don't believe in theories, sorry.
See, for me, it started a whole new world. I was playing with my pencil in first grade and the teacher was droning on about something. Yes, even back then, I got bored. And no, I didn't ever take pills for ADHD. Cripes, the associations you all make these days. But anyway, I was playing with my pencil and it magically occurred to me that I could make lines:
Then I saw the girl with the tight Shirley Temple curls and I drew this:
Then I realized I could also scribble, like this:
See the dragon eye?
And so now, I doodle constantly. I take notes in doodles. Guess what this means:
Yeah, salmon swim upstream. That was from a 4th grade notebook by the way. Don't worry, I'm not THAT kooky.
But what got you all lambasting me was the fact that I forgot the paper I had worshiped for eons and moved on to walls.
Yes, walls. Big, wide, open spaced, disgustingly empty walls.
And you, mister cop, call my art vandalism.
I promise. I am just a doodler. I mean no harm. Dammit, I was born for this. See how my fingers are never still? See?
bogus, tight, curls, scribble, salmon, had, worshiped, machinery, holistic, genealogy, lambasted
**
My fingers constantly move. Seriously. Like machinery switched on and never stopped. And no, it's not a trait in my grandiose genealogy. What is it with people and chromosomes? Anyway, it isn't some bogus, long named disorder either... a holistic doctor might relate it to some stupid stress outlet theory, but I don't believe in theories, sorry.
See, for me, it started a whole new world. I was playing with my pencil in first grade and the teacher was droning on about something. Yes, even back then, I got bored. And no, I didn't ever take pills for ADHD. Cripes, the associations you all make these days. But anyway, I was playing with my pencil and it magically occurred to me that I could make lines:
Then I saw the girl with the tight Shirley Temple curls and I drew this:
Then I realized I could also scribble, like this:
See the dragon eye?
And so now, I doodle constantly. I take notes in doodles. Guess what this means:
Yeah, salmon swim upstream. That was from a 4th grade notebook by the way. Don't worry, I'm not THAT kooky.
But what got you all lambasting me was the fact that I forgot the paper I had worshiped for eons and moved on to walls.
Yes, walls. Big, wide, open spaced, disgustingly empty walls.
And you, mister cop, call my art vandalism.
I promise. I am just a doodler. I mean no harm. Dammit, I was born for this. See how my fingers are never still? See?
October 23, 2009
If You Knew
The Words:
peace, red, heart, flowers, dreams, clouds, stars, nudity, kiss, bride, pillows.
**
I never bought into the fantasy of love. The dreams that girls harbored when they were smiling secretly into their pillows, wishing that the stars had a constellation of their crush, or imagining clouds the shape of his nose. Chocolates in red boxes and flowers with a tender greeting kiss or whatever kind of kiss they liked, made them swoon.
But what is raw is when you're looking at a man and you don't expect him to know anything about you. You'll know his favorite songs and colors. You'll remember ever last word that escapes his mind, and you'll count the lines on his face silently when he smiles at you. You'll be torn to pieces when he playfully brushes against your shoulder, or takes your hand fleetingly to twirl you in a dance step. You'll laugh at him telling you things like, "I am NEVER going to fall in love," and then want to whisper, you want to know what love is? But you'll never expect anything because the nudity of love would kill you.
And when they tell me that being a bride is the ultimate peace keeper of the heart, I sigh.
Oh, if you knew...
peace, red, heart, flowers, dreams, clouds, stars, nudity, kiss, bride, pillows.
**
I never bought into the fantasy of love. The dreams that girls harbored when they were smiling secretly into their pillows, wishing that the stars had a constellation of their crush, or imagining clouds the shape of his nose. Chocolates in red boxes and flowers with a tender greeting kiss or whatever kind of kiss they liked, made them swoon.
But what is raw is when you're looking at a man and you don't expect him to know anything about you. You'll know his favorite songs and colors. You'll remember ever last word that escapes his mind, and you'll count the lines on his face silently when he smiles at you. You'll be torn to pieces when he playfully brushes against your shoulder, or takes your hand fleetingly to twirl you in a dance step. You'll laugh at him telling you things like, "I am NEVER going to fall in love," and then want to whisper, you want to know what love is? But you'll never expect anything because the nudity of love would kill you.
And when they tell me that being a bride is the ultimate peace keeper of the heart, I sigh.
Oh, if you knew...
October 22, 2009
The ABC's
The Words:
foot, secret, love, run, hope, prize, light, favor, shop, elevate, exquisite
**
A child ran, beaming,
Barefooted, elevated,
Candescent in hope,
Diving through wind:
Exquisite laughter rang,
Faltering at nothing.
Gathering breath, she
Hurled her frame faster,
Impish and so free.
Just past the candy shop,
Kites fight for the light
Lingering for some
Minor attentive favor. But
No one stopped her foot race,
Overturning seaweed and
Plans. All watched her, she:
Quivering in a secret,
Radiant love capturing
Symphony sounds! Like
Trills perfected on pianos,
Undulating waves tickled.
Vastness itself forgotten,
What am I, said Sea, but an
X-ray of all that she carries,
Yielding to nothing, this
Zitella... this earthly being?
foot, secret, love, run, hope, prize, light, favor, shop, elevate, exquisite
**
A child ran, beaming,
Barefooted, elevated,
Candescent in hope,
Diving through wind:
Exquisite laughter rang,
Faltering at nothing.
Gathering breath, she
Hurled her frame faster,
Impish and so free.
Just past the candy shop,
Kites fight for the light
Lingering for some
Minor attentive favor. But
No one stopped her foot race,
Overturning seaweed and
Plans. All watched her, she:
Quivering in a secret,
Radiant love capturing
Symphony sounds! Like
Trills perfected on pianos,
Undulating waves tickled.
Vastness itself forgotten,
What am I, said Sea, but an
X-ray of all that she carries,
Yielding to nothing, this
Zitella... this earthly being?
October 21, 2009
Sprout
The Words:
green ring, san diego, santa barbara, las vegas, bagel, green tea, catcard, ipod, cell phone, alex, feo (Spanish word), baby
**
My baby days were spent in sand dunes on a beach in San Diego. I don't know how long it was until I was picked up and put into a plastic cage. I don't know how I learned to read or understand the human language either, but I somehow knew that we had taken a detour to Las Vegas before ending up in a show case on a busy street in Santa Barbara.
The shop keeper was an older gentleman who had his assistant take care of us. He didn't like it though. He would change the water and mutter words under his breath. He looked at me once and let his lip curl up in a sort of disgust, his long, black hair concealing one eye. "Feo." He spat. I didn't blame him really, because to me, he was pretty "feo" himself.
It was an odd, rainy day when I saw her face. It peered at me, with delight. I didn't know what for. I was hardly doing anything. Just sitting casually on a green ringed rock. She rapped at my wall, typical of people. I ignored her. She wasn't interesting to me. "I'll TAKE him!!" Her high-pitched, giggly voice rang in the air. I guessed I was sold, and I was right. I thought I'd never get used to her. The car ride was a long one.
She called me Sprout. Yes, Sprout. As if I was to sprout something out of me, or better yet, maybe I was a reminder of a brussle sprout. Why didn't she call me Shell or Green is beyond me. Even Feo, I wouldn't have minded. But no. It was Sprout. I must admit, it never did grow on me.
But the world I was in did. I was surrounded by conversations about an "Alex" and learned that her type of crowd could survive on a bagle and a bottle of green tea all day. They were also addicted to these contraptions which they called "cell phones" and "ipods." I never really understood what they were for, but one made the person talk to themselves a lot, and occasionally, when no one was around but me, the other made them sing like banshees.
It wasn't until she lost her catcard, or that thin slip of something that somehow got food, that I could escape. She was overturning things, and her elbow hit my cage and knocked it off my windowsill. Down I fell. When I landed, I ran. I left behind a girl half in tears, calling me Sprout over and over again.
I never looked back. My long turtle neck was just too lazy.
**
green ring, san diego, santa barbara, las vegas, bagel, green tea, catcard, ipod, cell phone, alex, feo (Spanish word), baby
**
My baby days were spent in sand dunes on a beach in San Diego. I don't know how long it was until I was picked up and put into a plastic cage. I don't know how I learned to read or understand the human language either, but I somehow knew that we had taken a detour to Las Vegas before ending up in a show case on a busy street in Santa Barbara.
The shop keeper was an older gentleman who had his assistant take care of us. He didn't like it though. He would change the water and mutter words under his breath. He looked at me once and let his lip curl up in a sort of disgust, his long, black hair concealing one eye. "Feo." He spat. I didn't blame him really, because to me, he was pretty "feo" himself.
It was an odd, rainy day when I saw her face. It peered at me, with delight. I didn't know what for. I was hardly doing anything. Just sitting casually on a green ringed rock. She rapped at my wall, typical of people. I ignored her. She wasn't interesting to me. "I'll TAKE him!!" Her high-pitched, giggly voice rang in the air. I guessed I was sold, and I was right. I thought I'd never get used to her. The car ride was a long one.
She called me Sprout. Yes, Sprout. As if I was to sprout something out of me, or better yet, maybe I was a reminder of a brussle sprout. Why didn't she call me Shell or Green is beyond me. Even Feo, I wouldn't have minded. But no. It was Sprout. I must admit, it never did grow on me.
But the world I was in did. I was surrounded by conversations about an "Alex" and learned that her type of crowd could survive on a bagle and a bottle of green tea all day. They were also addicted to these contraptions which they called "cell phones" and "ipods." I never really understood what they were for, but one made the person talk to themselves a lot, and occasionally, when no one was around but me, the other made them sing like banshees.
It wasn't until she lost her catcard, or that thin slip of something that somehow got food, that I could escape. She was overturning things, and her elbow hit my cage and knocked it off my windowsill. Down I fell. When I landed, I ran. I left behind a girl half in tears, calling me Sprout over and over again.
I never looked back. My long turtle neck was just too lazy.
**
October 20, 2009
The Hub
The Words:
Technology / Cisco / Router / Hub / Switch / Computer / Keyboard / Communication / Data / Efficiency /Internet
**
"Cisco Systems, how may I help you today?"
"Umm yeah. I was wondering what to get for putting together computers."
"You mean networking?"
"Yeah! Yeah, that's it... I was looking up stuff on the Internet and none of it make no sense."
"Sir, what kind of data are you trying to communicate?"
"I don't know... umm.. I don't know, just data."
"How efficient would you like your networking to be?"
"Look man, I ain't got no technology know-how on me. It's just... how the hell is a hub gonna be helpful in this?"
"Sir, a hub, a switch and a router are all computer networking devices. Each have different capabilities. How many computers are you planning to hook up to the network?"
"How many compu-- what the hell, man? I ain't got a million computers!"
"Sir, you need at least two computers for any sort of networking."
"All I got is a desktop with a monitor and keyboard. All I wanna know is if I be needing a hub too."
"If you don't have any other computer sir, then no, you don't need a hub, sir."
"No hub?"
"No hub, sir."
"Aight man, that's all I needed to know. Thank you... [aside before hanging up the phone fully] Darlene, I TOLD you your friend was lyin--"
[Operator replies for the record] "Thank you sir, and have a good day. Pardon, I mean, good night. Pardon, I mean, whatever time it is in US of the A..."
**
**
"Cisco Systems, how may I help you today?"
"Umm yeah. I was wondering what to get for putting together computers."
"You mean networking?"
"Yeah! Yeah, that's it... I was looking up stuff on the Internet and none of it make no sense."
"Sir, what kind of data are you trying to communicate?"
"I don't know... umm.. I don't know, just data."
"How efficient would you like your networking to be?"
"Look man, I ain't got no technology know-how on me. It's just... how the hell is a hub gonna be helpful in this?"
"Sir, a hub, a switch and a router are all computer networking devices. Each have different capabilities. How many computers are you planning to hook up to the network?"
"How many compu-- what the hell, man? I ain't got a million computers!"
"Sir, you need at least two computers for any sort of networking."
"All I got is a desktop with a monitor and keyboard. All I wanna know is if I be needing a hub too."
"If you don't have any other computer sir, then no, you don't need a hub, sir."
"No hub?"
"No hub, sir."
"Aight man, that's all I needed to know. Thank you... [aside before hanging up the phone fully] Darlene, I TOLD you your friend was lyin--"
[Operator replies for the record] "Thank you sir, and have a good day. Pardon, I mean, good night. Pardon, I mean, whatever time it is in US of the A..."
**
October 19, 2009
Born
The Words:
caring, love, friend, child, beautiful, handsome, moral, integrity, uplifting, innocent, teenager
**
She held the bundle tenderly, gently cupping her hand to hold the beautiful, golden curls adorned head.
"Oh... oh my god... isn't he handsome Beth? Isn't he?"
She looked up at me and I smiled at my best friend. She looked tired, her own mess of straw colored locks having lost the grace of her usual perfectionism. But she somehow shone, as if encased in a glow of some powerful love still a mystery to me. She was watching him move his tiny mouth open and shut, her lips slightly echoing the movements in a sort of awe.
"How perfectly innocent he looks... how perfectly new and innocent!"
I didn't need to answer... she wasn't talking to me. I closed my eyes halfway, relaxing in my chair a little more than I had allowed myself to these last eight hours. Eight months ago, I had been on her couch, telling her philosophical mind to shut up about morality and integrity and all the uppity jargon that never really impressed my head. All I knew was that she had life in her. Life. Not right or wrong. Not Kant or Heidegger. Life.
And this was supposed to be uplifting, I thought. Watching mother and child bond. Watching that glow grow brighter... I was supposed to feel good. I was supposed to feel the goodness of life. I opened my eyes again and watched her as she traced his chin. The baby must have felt strange because suddenly, he was wailing in his high-pitched, breathless way.
"Beth! Beth! He's crying! Beth... what do I do!?"
I got up slowly and reached for him. She watched me as I hugged the bundle closer, shushing sounds automatically escaping me. He quietened immediately and was soon back into his mothers arms, her worry lines smooth again.
"This is going to be hard." She said to me, "Caring is hard."
I sank back into my chair and let sleep plunge into me like a wave.
"Just wait till he's a teenager, Cassie," I heard myself say, "that's going to be quite a thesis to write."
caring, love, friend, child, beautiful, handsome, moral, integrity, uplifting, innocent, teenager
**
She held the bundle tenderly, gently cupping her hand to hold the beautiful, golden curls adorned head.
"Oh... oh my god... isn't he handsome Beth? Isn't he?"
She looked up at me and I smiled at my best friend. She looked tired, her own mess of straw colored locks having lost the grace of her usual perfectionism. But she somehow shone, as if encased in a glow of some powerful love still a mystery to me. She was watching him move his tiny mouth open and shut, her lips slightly echoing the movements in a sort of awe.
"How perfectly innocent he looks... how perfectly new and innocent!"
I didn't need to answer... she wasn't talking to me. I closed my eyes halfway, relaxing in my chair a little more than I had allowed myself to these last eight hours. Eight months ago, I had been on her couch, telling her philosophical mind to shut up about morality and integrity and all the uppity jargon that never really impressed my head. All I knew was that she had life in her. Life. Not right or wrong. Not Kant or Heidegger. Life.
And this was supposed to be uplifting, I thought. Watching mother and child bond. Watching that glow grow brighter... I was supposed to feel good. I was supposed to feel the goodness of life. I opened my eyes again and watched her as she traced his chin. The baby must have felt strange because suddenly, he was wailing in his high-pitched, breathless way.
"Beth! Beth! He's crying! Beth... what do I do!?"
I got up slowly and reached for him. She watched me as I hugged the bundle closer, shushing sounds automatically escaping me. He quietened immediately and was soon back into his mothers arms, her worry lines smooth again.
"This is going to be hard." She said to me, "Caring is hard."
I sank back into my chair and let sleep plunge into me like a wave.
"Just wait till he's a teenager, Cassie," I heard myself say, "that's going to be quite a thesis to write."
October 18, 2009
The Advisor
The Words:
freedom, character, wisdom, knowledge, honesty, indebtedness, truth, trust, life, achievements, goals.
**
"It begins with trust. All things begin with trust!"
"I disagree. Things begin because they begin. And things only begin if one has freedom to do so."
"Ah but nothing is really free! People depend on truth and knowledge. When a country declares independence, for example, they declare it from a set of rules to another given set of rules. There will always be rules. Even Anarchy has a rule: no government! But the difference is, when people are setting out to claim these rules, they are doing it out of the need for truth to prevail, and knowledge to proliferate."
"Then why isn't there more honesty in this world? Why aren't I more honest? Why do I feel like I am living a life where achievement is only gained through a bunch of lies? Why do I have to be corrupted to reach whatever batch of goals I might have?"
"Because you are afraid. You feel as if being a manipulated character is the only way to reach the top. But truth is, that top is really not a top. It's the bottom."
"No it's not... the bottom is ME. The bottom is truthful people like me sitting in limbo, unable to whip up schemes and lies, unable to cope with the cream of the crop which is actually fermentation of the lowest dirt you can find on this planet. But no,they RULE the world. They MAKE things happen. And I? I just sit here, thinking, wondering, appalled and utterly sickened by the wisdom they preach on... How do you expect me to have a whisper of indebtedness towards this world? How do you expect me to live like I have to give back? How can you call THEM the bottom when I am the one that doesn't CARE anymore?"
"If you didn't care, you wouldn't be here."
"Oh spare the circle talk. You have it easy don't you? Sitting in your chair, examining my tortured presence, making a mental note to bring me something next time to occupy my thoughts... what do you know anyway?"
"That I was, or even am, like you."
"Oh yeah? What made you go sane?"
"I became an Advisor."
**
freedom, character, wisdom, knowledge, honesty, indebtedness, truth, trust, life, achievements, goals.
**
"It begins with trust. All things begin with trust!"
"I disagree. Things begin because they begin. And things only begin if one has freedom to do so."
"Ah but nothing is really free! People depend on truth and knowledge. When a country declares independence, for example, they declare it from a set of rules to another given set of rules. There will always be rules. Even Anarchy has a rule: no government! But the difference is, when people are setting out to claim these rules, they are doing it out of the need for truth to prevail, and knowledge to proliferate."
"Then why isn't there more honesty in this world? Why aren't I more honest? Why do I feel like I am living a life where achievement is only gained through a bunch of lies? Why do I have to be corrupted to reach whatever batch of goals I might have?"
"Because you are afraid. You feel as if being a manipulated character is the only way to reach the top. But truth is, that top is really not a top. It's the bottom."
"No it's not... the bottom is ME. The bottom is truthful people like me sitting in limbo, unable to whip up schemes and lies, unable to cope with the cream of the crop which is actually fermentation of the lowest dirt you can find on this planet. But no,they RULE the world. They MAKE things happen. And I? I just sit here, thinking, wondering, appalled and utterly sickened by the wisdom they preach on... How do you expect me to have a whisper of indebtedness towards this world? How do you expect me to live like I have to give back? How can you call THEM the bottom when I am the one that doesn't CARE anymore?"
"If you didn't care, you wouldn't be here."
"Oh spare the circle talk. You have it easy don't you? Sitting in your chair, examining my tortured presence, making a mental note to bring me something next time to occupy my thoughts... what do you know anyway?"
"That I was, or even am, like you."
"Oh yeah? What made you go sane?"
"I became an Advisor."
**
October 17, 2009
Siblings at a Funeral
The Words:
gaudy, narcissistic, composed, jaunty, intrepid, benign, juxtaposition, spartan, amiable, reserved, sesquipedalian.
**
"Don't be such a damn spartan."
"Don't be so amiable."
"You're such a narcissistic soul."
"You're a gaudy nothing."
"I don't know why I'm related to you."
"Don't worry, you're just a tumor. A benign tumor. That I can't get rid of."
"Oh, quit it with the juxtapositions!"
"Quit being a sesquipedalianist."
"At least I'm not reserved nincompoop."
"At least I'm not a jaunty wannabe."
"Oh you're such a composed asshole... what gets to you!?"
"Outspoken, pseudo-intrepid bitches like you."
"Shut up, there comes to coffin."
"That's going to be us one day."
**
Grade: B
gaudy, narcissistic, composed, jaunty, intrepid, benign, juxtaposition, spartan, amiable, reserved, sesquipedalian.
**
"Don't be such a damn spartan."
"Don't be so amiable."
"You're such a narcissistic soul."
"You're a gaudy nothing."
"I don't know why I'm related to you."
"Don't worry, you're just a tumor. A benign tumor. That I can't get rid of."
"Oh, quit it with the juxtapositions!"
"Quit being a sesquipedalianist."
"At least I'm not reserved nincompoop."
"At least I'm not a jaunty wannabe."
"Oh you're such a composed asshole... what gets to you!?"
"Outspoken, pseudo-intrepid bitches like you."
"Shut up, there comes to coffin."
"That's going to be us one day."
**
Grade: B
October 16, 2009
A Queen to Her People
The Words:
Chivalry, Death, Enigma, Angelic, Intrinsic, Devotion, Frailty, Whimsical, Noble, Rend, Fallen
**
**
To ENGLAND!
**
Note: This is supposed to come from a Queen of the Renaissance or prior... Elizabeth II, hence, doesn't count.
October 15, 2009
A Sonnet For Taken
The Words:
azure, balmy, clarity, deference, evanescent, flicker, gadfly, haunting, illness, jovial, kisses
Lady, forgive me: this gadfly haunting
Your evanescent presence that flees me.
Can you not sense this illness rage, writhing
In deference at your feet? Do you see
How the heart twitches and the mind bickers
As you tread the sand in balmy sunset
With your wraps and flops and tiny knickers?
Oh how do you make men (who need!) forget?
But imagine this: me + You, jovial,
Sipping two cocktails, a soothing massage,
Or laying under this azure, idle,
Painting with kisses a body collage.
Alas, I am seeking a lost reverie
For, look! A diamond flickers in clarity.
**
Note: Shakespearean style!
**
Grade: A+
azure, balmy, clarity, deference, evanescent, flicker, gadfly, haunting, illness, jovial, kisses
Lady, forgive me: this gadfly haunting
Your evanescent presence that flees me.
Can you not sense this illness rage, writhing
In deference at your feet? Do you see
How the heart twitches and the mind bickers
As you tread the sand in balmy sunset
With your wraps and flops and tiny knickers?
Oh how do you make men (who need!) forget?
But imagine this: me + You, jovial,
Sipping two cocktails, a soothing massage,
Or laying under this azure, idle,
Painting with kisses a body collage.
Alas, I am seeking a lost reverie
For, look! A diamond flickers in clarity.
**
Note: Shakespearean style!
**
Grade: A+
October 14, 2009
Games
The Words:
thumbs, milk mustache, cheeky, raincoat, voltage, processional, prognosis, velour, junk, synecdoche, culprit
"Synecdouche."
"You're kidding, right?"
They were laying on the grassy knoll above the river in raincoats, the wet moss a sort of velour sheet underneath.
"Not kidding. Ready?"
"No."
"A specific class of milk mustaches."
"Got Milk?"
"Part of 'tongue in cheek rude.'"
"Cheeky."
"For a farmer."
"Green thumbs."
"Indicative processional."
"Here comes the Bride."
"General class of unwanted shit."
"Junk."
"Part of electricity."
"Voltage."
"Have we already played this?"
"Your memory is your culprit."
He shifted over and raised himself on his elbows, looking down into her mocking smile. Years smoldered between them. How did she remember.
"Prognosis. Not culprit."
"Whatever."
"One more."
"No."
"Encompassing of a whole in three."
She laid silent, brows furrowed. He grinned, relishing.
"Three..."
"Don't give up."
"Have I ever?"
"Yes."
"Oh shut up.... let me think..."
"Clue?"
"No. I can do this."
She stared at the gray masses above, shifting shapes with the wind. She bolted up as it came to her, looking down at him with a smirk,
"That's it! I love you!"
He laughed up at her, sinking into her joy, her success. Standing on his elbows again, he tilted his head and matched her smile.
"Me too."
**
Grade: A
thumbs, milk mustache, cheeky, raincoat, voltage, processional, prognosis, velour, junk, synecdoche, culprit
"Synecdouche."
"You're kidding, right?"
They were laying on the grassy knoll above the river in raincoats, the wet moss a sort of velour sheet underneath.
"Not kidding. Ready?"
"No."
"A specific class of milk mustaches."
"Got Milk?"
"Part of 'tongue in cheek rude.'"
"Cheeky."
"For a farmer."
"Green thumbs."
"Indicative processional."
"Here comes the Bride."
"General class of unwanted shit."
"Junk."
"Part of electricity."
"Voltage."
"Have we already played this?"
"Your memory is your culprit."
He shifted over and raised himself on his elbows, looking down into her mocking smile. Years smoldered between them. How did she remember.
"Prognosis. Not culprit."
"Whatever."
"One more."
"No."
"Encompassing of a whole in three."
She laid silent, brows furrowed. He grinned, relishing.
"Three..."
"Don't give up."
"Have I ever?"
"Yes."
"Oh shut up.... let me think..."
"Clue?"
"No. I can do this."
She stared at the gray masses above, shifting shapes with the wind. She bolted up as it came to her, looking down at him with a smirk,
"That's it! I love you!"
He laughed up at her, sinking into her joy, her success. Standing on his elbows again, he tilted his head and matched her smile.
"Me too."
**
Grade: A
October 13, 2009
A Feminist Tail
The Words:
Irony, dilapidated, rivalry, supremacy, naked, bygone, war, coin, linger, knowledge, trust.
"I'll tell you about male supremacy! It lingers sticky like sludge in dark, thought bygone corners, manipulating already dilapidating, needy minds... Corners like the battlefront of war where a woman must be shaded by a mans protecting shadow. Corners where chances are never given because, ironically, they don't care to trust a woman of knowledge. Corners of secret, lost bedroom rivalries where the man refuses to get naked before the woman. Let's fucking face it: in some cases, the coin is never tossed!"
"Wanna toss one now?"
"Heads or tails?"
"Heads."
"See? It's always tails on us. You awful, conceited bastards."
**
Grade: B+
Irony, dilapidated, rivalry, supremacy, naked, bygone, war, coin, linger, knowledge, trust.
"I'll tell you about male supremacy! It lingers sticky like sludge in dark, thought bygone corners, manipulating already dilapidating, needy minds... Corners like the battlefront of war where a woman must be shaded by a mans protecting shadow. Corners where chances are never given because, ironically, they don't care to trust a woman of knowledge. Corners of secret, lost bedroom rivalries where the man refuses to get naked before the woman. Let's fucking face it: in some cases, the coin is never tossed!"
"Wanna toss one now?"
"Heads or tails?"
"Heads."
"See? It's always tails on us. You awful, conceited bastards."
**
Grade: B+
October 12, 2009
When I Carry
The Words:
sparrow, curdle, purple, chime, anoint, lace, mirror, stain, rankle, turgid, memory.
Ever since I saw the lace and mirror in the House of Birth, I wanted to live there. They had thick darkish beddings which Jonas once mentioned as "Purple." I still don't know what that means. But I knew that when the chime goes off within the halls of the house, a turgid woman was to go flat again, and that they could eat as much as they ever wanted.
It rankled me when the Elders lingered at my name and occupation, but they said the right thing. The first night was just as everything I could remember of that one visit a month before. Except this time I had a bed. I realize now that stains never showed on them. Neither would the material curdle at being wet. How smart.
I was happy for a year, running and helping and midwifing. But then there were whispers. Why had I not grown? I heard. Where was my load? They gave me several shots, but nothing ever worked. Then after two years they said I was to be anointed. To carry?, I asked. To carry, the man smiled down. I was in a dull room when a man with mask over his face came in. Remember something pretty, he said.
I remembered the day when a little thing that could fly came and settled in our tree. Jonas said it was a sparrow. A bird. They caught it and took it away, and we never saw another one. But I had liked the little thing. It was fat and cheerful. And it could fly. I thought about flying, and the sparrow.
As things were going black, I thought about all the grapes I could eat when I finally carry...
**
Note: If you've ever read Lois Lowry's "The Giver" this passage shouldn't be so strange to you.
**
Grade: B+
sparrow, curdle, purple, chime, anoint, lace, mirror, stain, rankle, turgid, memory.
Ever since I saw the lace and mirror in the House of Birth, I wanted to live there. They had thick darkish beddings which Jonas once mentioned as "Purple." I still don't know what that means. But I knew that when the chime goes off within the halls of the house, a turgid woman was to go flat again, and that they could eat as much as they ever wanted.
It rankled me when the Elders lingered at my name and occupation, but they said the right thing. The first night was just as everything I could remember of that one visit a month before. Except this time I had a bed. I realize now that stains never showed on them. Neither would the material curdle at being wet. How smart.
I was happy for a year, running and helping and midwifing. But then there were whispers. Why had I not grown? I heard. Where was my load? They gave me several shots, but nothing ever worked. Then after two years they said I was to be anointed. To carry?, I asked. To carry, the man smiled down. I was in a dull room when a man with mask over his face came in. Remember something pretty, he said.
I remembered the day when a little thing that could fly came and settled in our tree. Jonas said it was a sparrow. A bird. They caught it and took it away, and we never saw another one. But I had liked the little thing. It was fat and cheerful. And it could fly. I thought about flying, and the sparrow.
As things were going black, I thought about all the grapes I could eat when I finally carry...
**
Note: If you've ever read Lois Lowry's "The Giver" this passage shouldn't be so strange to you.
**
Grade: B+
October 11, 2009
The Five Year Old
The Words:
green, game, happy, lake, extinguish, impression, stupid twilight vampire, end, seasoning, pre, eleventeen
**
"Why don't they call you eleven-teen?"
"Because they think we are pre-game material. Too green. Too happy."
"How come the lake is blue?"
"It isn't. It's just giving an impression. Add some seasoning to the sky and the lake will be grey."
"Like you?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Do you believe in the end of the world?"
"As much as I believe in that stupid twilight vampire."
"They are extinguished aren't they? Vampires?"
"Not if you read books."
**
Grade: B
green, game, happy, lake, extinguish, impression, stupid twilight vampire, end, seasoning, pre, eleventeen
**
"Why don't they call you eleven-teen?"
"Because they think we are pre-game material. Too green. Too happy."
"How come the lake is blue?"
"It isn't. It's just giving an impression. Add some seasoning to the sky and the lake will be grey."
"Like you?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Do you believe in the end of the world?"
"As much as I believe in that stupid twilight vampire."
"They are extinguished aren't they? Vampires?"
"Not if you read books."
**
Grade: B
October 10, 2009
The Beach Shooting
The Words:
elk, abbeys, bone structure, RNA, crystals, frog legs, diets, Jew Bastard, Marlon Brando in a tight t-shirt....sand... SAND!
**
"Like this?"
"Sure. Smile into the camera."
Whatever makes money, I thought.
**
Grade: A-
elk, abbeys, bone structure, RNA, crystals, frog legs, diets, Jew Bastard, Marlon Brando in a tight t-shirt....sand... SAND!
**
There was wet sand clinging to her bare back, like Marlon Brando's t-shirt would stick to his chest sometimes. She reached over to brush it off, her elbow bending and making frog legs of her arms. It's the diet, I thought. The one where they stir some crytals into water to make some kind of piss colored liquid which was supposed to make you feel full. She bunched her long legs closer to her breasts, her heels trailing marks on the sand. No wonder she felt like a Jew bastard in an abbey. She wasn't made for this. Her RNA reeked of waitress bone structure. Elkishly she craned her neck around, big eyes staring back at me.
"Like this?"
"Sure. Smile into the camera."
Whatever makes money, I thought.
**
Grade: A-
Introduction
It started as a goodbye. One of those where you don't say the word "goodbye." I got 11 words instead. 11 random words. And I used them all to create a short. A written short, kinda like the shorts film enthusiasts make.
Give me your 11 words, and I'll take a shot in turning them into a short.
The price? Give me a grade too. A+ through F- accepted.
Fire away!
Give me your 11 words, and I'll take a shot in turning them into a short.
The price? Give me a grade too. A+ through F- accepted.
Fire away!
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