this last weekend i was invited to my friend's 30th birthday party and we were partying it up like young kids at this trampoline play area for kids. Like there were trampolines all over the ground, there was dodgeball and a pit of foam. It was kinda of cool but at the same time not so very exciting. One reason was that... well lets start at the jumping.
So we start jumping when the alotted time begins, it was supposed to be at 7. we got there around 5 to mark the time and etc. so we start to jump around and in turn each one of us take up a square of trampolines, becaise well we are bigger than everyone there. there as about 10 squares that we took up. we aren't supposed to jump double to a square forsafety purposes. but geez it's not like i can control where i jump since i'm basically like a feather bouncing around with rubber on my ass.
So i jump around for a whopping 3 minutes and wow my feet went out on me. today was also the day that i bought new shoes so i was trying to break them in, but this was not a good method in which to break them in. pfft ya really. so.. i waI s asked to be the monkey that i am and use one of the trampoline on the side which was inclined at like iunno 25 degrees to help catapult or build up speed. In which case i did. i jumped onto the side and shot off it and couldn't stop until i reached the other side which was about 5-6 squares away and these squares are huge about 6 ft or so. I eventually came to grasp that i was too short to be able to land and jump per square so once that got thru my head life became a bit easier but not too much.
I promptly went to the sidelines because my feet could not take the pressure of being used that much and that way especially because my arches are very very capable to be irritated. i got jacked up feet what can i say. so i was sitting and watching from the sidelines which was kind of sad for me. but whatever not anything i could do for the moment.
so while watching all my friends jump around and have fun, i had the time to sit and think to myself. why wasn't i having as much fun as they were? what was limiting me and my fun? it's not like i was the oldest, my friend just turned 30. so i thought and i thought. and then i realized that i limited my fun because i had a lot to lose. i haven't had the most in shape body since high school, not even during high school was i even near the peak or i don't think i was ever at the peak of physical fitness. I had mini daydreams while everyone was jumping around and i was seeing myself doing those things, like doing round offs, somersaults, leaping off everywhere and having a grand old time. the thing aqbout it was that i wasn't doing any of it. that was the most annoying part of it all.
so while i was in my thinking thing, i found out that living my life scared about the what if's and what fors is a ridiculous way to live. and that annoyed me the most. it wasn't the fact that i couldn't do it, it was because i chose to not do it because i would have something to lose. what would i lose? thats the thing. nothing. i had nothing to lose but yet i still cut myself short in almost everything because of that dumb fear.
in essence... life is too short to live this way. and that realization was a reconcilation of my past and for my future. not to live life expecing a safe journey. life is a journey. and life is just the way you live it.
i say this now... but in the end... i am... scared...
off to start writing some for my nanowrimo.
11.09.2010
9.28.2010
Nightmare
Having a déjà vu feeling that somehow manages
to tighten the muscles along your back, then
like a giant mosquito tiptoeing across your spine,
breathing, if it could, soft wafts of air at your neck.
Already you are a nervous wreck;
palms, the insides of your arms, and the back of your knees
are sweating. Heart starts pounding, and you swallow,
a few times just to get it right. Closing your eyes
trying to picture the memory running away,
and all that is left is just a faceless face
reminding you of … you.
POOF You wake up and the dream starts over again.
9.16.2010
Thirty Books Everyone Should Read Before They’re Thirty - DivineCaroline
The Web is grand. With its fame for hosting informative, easy-to-skim textual snippets and collaborative written works, people are spending more and more time reading...
9.10.2010
I Wonder
I wonder where she is
That one girl to make me giggle uncontrollably
as if I was being tickled by a dozen invisible hands.
The one who knows the starts, finishes and even
the sentence before I even think it.
The one who makes my skin tingle like
I was being prodded by feathers.
The one who can turn my heart to putty with a single glance,
and both hands tied behind her back.
The one that fits in my arms seamlessly,
like we were meant to be like two puzzle pieces.
The one who is crazier than me but that might be a bad thing.
The one who makes my breath catch no matter the time.
The one who I can share the adventure of life with
hooting and hollarin' away.
The one that knows how to be a child again
though we both know we shouldn't.
the one I can laugh with for no reason whatsoever
and to be fine with that.
I wonder.
That one girl to make me giggle uncontrollably
as if I was being tickled by a dozen invisible hands.
The one who knows the starts, finishes and even
the sentence before I even think it.
The one who makes my skin tingle like
I was being prodded by feathers.
The one who can turn my heart to putty with a single glance,
and both hands tied behind her back.
The one that fits in my arms seamlessly,
like we were meant to be like two puzzle pieces.
The one who is crazier than me but that might be a bad thing.
The one who makes my breath catch no matter the time.
The one who I can share the adventure of life with
hooting and hollarin' away.
The one that knows how to be a child again
though we both know we shouldn't.
the one I can laugh with for no reason whatsoever
and to be fine with that.
I wonder.
8.17.2010
11:11
I wrote this for a friend but never finished it. I finally had a chance, it isn't my best but i'll take it.eleven eleven is the time,
that marks this little nursery rhyme
I wish I may, I wish I might
grant this wish I wish tonight.
Upon this second, minute, and hour
blossom like a beautiful flower.
May my dreams fly up, away
til the clock strikes to end the day.
8.13.2010
Lil Monster
I see you like a reflection of what I used to be.
That same timid ferocity, the spark of mischief
hidden in your tiny smile.Your hand gestures,
the way you explode when you don't get your way.
Yet I can't help to smile at you, the kind that starts
at the corner of your mouth, wraps up
to your eyes and ends in your mind. Because
it is all too familiar. As the tears stream
down your upturned face, my inward smile
grows bigger but self control keeps me from laughing.
"There, there..." I comfort you, as I kneel down.
You rush towards my arms crying, wiping
your snot nosed face like a monster.
But you are my monster, of whom I truly adore.
That same timid ferocity, the spark of mischief
hidden in your tiny smile.Your hand gestures,
the way you explode when you don't get your way.
Yet I can't help to smile at you, the kind that starts
at the corner of your mouth, wraps up
to your eyes and ends in your mind. Because
it is all too familiar. As the tears stream
down your upturned face, my inward smile
grows bigger but self control keeps me from laughing.
"There, there..." I comfort you, as I kneel down.
You rush towards my arms crying, wiping
your snot nosed face like a monster.
But you are my monster, of whom I truly adore.
8.10.2010
It was that day I died
I'm not sad or anything :P This poem was inspired by a scene in Charlie St. Cloud. It is a villanelle and this phrase the main character said and it struck me. So I thought it would be challenging to write this. I hope it works.It was that day I died
The sound of glass cracking
I’m trying not to cry
Sirens wailing in the distance
My shoulders bloody and convulsing
It was that day I died
Eyes shut in grievance
Mind scattered wondering
I’m trying not to cry
You lay in my arms in silence
Your chest slowly breathing
It was that day I died
I prayed for guidance
but I knew you were leaving
I’m trying not to cry
I shouldn’t wish for vengeance
but I can’t go on without you living
It was that day I died
I’m trying not to cry.
8.03.2010
Time Control
What would you do if you could control time?
Perhaps, sit with your lover's embrace for eternity?
See that falling star, forever falling?
Watch your children grown before your very eyes?
Re-live that precious moment like a broken record,
or at least, like a recording off some long lost VHS tape.
But you wouldn't need it at all;
Because you can control time.
Bring back loved ones who passed on?
Making their fleeting life something memorable?
Stop that rainbow in its tracks so
you can finally find out what is at the end?
Too bad you have your own life to live.
And that you can't control time.
Perhaps, sit with your lover's embrace for eternity?
See that falling star, forever falling?
Watch your children grown before your very eyes?
Re-live that precious moment like a broken record,
or at least, like a recording off some long lost VHS tape.
But you wouldn't need it at all;
Because you can control time.
Bring back loved ones who passed on?
Making their fleeting life something memorable?
Stop that rainbow in its tracks so
you can finally find out what is at the end?
Too bad you have your own life to live.
And that you can't control time.
8.02.2010
What Would I Give...
What would I give,
to have the ability to look
out of the sun drenched window
and to be out there, playing
tag with the sparrows.
To have the warm summer wind
lift me up to the big blue open
sky, drifting without a care
in the world, not even one
as to where I am going.
To feel the warmth of the sun
on my back, and the breeze
brushing my entire body, lazily
closing my eyes and sighing
complete contentment and satisfaction
To see the world in its vast glory
and beauty, outside of the towns
and pedestrians, in my own higher place
wondering if and when
would I ever be home again.
What would I give...
what would I give.
to have the ability to look
out of the sun drenched window
and to be out there, playing
tag with the sparrows.
To have the warm summer wind
lift me up to the big blue open
sky, drifting without a care
in the world, not even one
as to where I am going.
To feel the warmth of the sun
on my back, and the breeze
brushing my entire body, lazily
closing my eyes and sighing
complete contentment and satisfaction
To see the world in its vast glory
and beauty, outside of the towns
and pedestrians, in my own higher place
wondering if and when
would I ever be home again.
What would I give...
what would I give.
7.30.2010
At the end of the day
Things that are said with no meaning
Things that were meant and weren’t said
Living a falsehood loud and proud
Then at the end of the day you wonder, why?
“maybe I’ll do this” then
“will they like me?” crosses your path
“well if I do it this way” you bump into
“I guess I have no choice” walks beside you
The path to success is high and airy
With the bodies of those once acquaintances,
now conquered and trampled beneath your feet
As you gaily climb to the next level
At the end of the day, was it worth it?
Did you fulfill your every need?
To squash over everyone, enemy and bystander
With your illusions of nobility?
Of course! Because I’m where I am today
Highly appointed, successful, powerful.
To control the life of others off a wingbeat
and destroys their essence of existence
As I return to my lonesome home
Friendless and alone
With nothing more than mere novelties
That have no choice but to love me.
Things that were meant and weren’t said
Living a falsehood loud and proud
Then at the end of the day you wonder, why?
“maybe I’ll do this” then
“will they like me?” crosses your path
“well if I do it this way” you bump into
“I guess I have no choice” walks beside you
The path to success is high and airy
With the bodies of those once acquaintances,
now conquered and trampled beneath your feet
As you gaily climb to the next level
At the end of the day, was it worth it?
Did you fulfill your every need?
To squash over everyone, enemy and bystander
With your illusions of nobility?
Of course! Because I’m where I am today
Highly appointed, successful, powerful.
To control the life of others off a wingbeat
and destroys their essence of existence
As I return to my lonesome home
Friendless and alone
With nothing more than mere novelties
That have no choice but to love me.
7.26.2010
Little Tear
Like a droplet moving slowly
down a glass like surface,
leaving pieces of itself;
a trail for more to follow.
Enduring crevices and grooves
until finally the 'kerplop' sounds
a remorse filled satisfaction
upon this statuesque moment.
Fingers grasp my chin raising
my furtive eyes to meet yours,
breathing in this instant
like noxious fumes causing weariness
I shift my balance and straighten
my posture, bearing my burdened
shoulders back, lifting my
wet hand, saying.
"This is all I have left.
This little tear."
Then I flick my hand quickly.
"Now it's gone."
down a glass like surface,
leaving pieces of itself;
a trail for more to follow.
Enduring crevices and grooves
until finally the 'kerplop' sounds
a remorse filled satisfaction
upon this statuesque moment.
Fingers grasp my chin raising
my furtive eyes to meet yours,
breathing in this instant
like noxious fumes causing weariness
I shift my balance and straighten
my posture, bearing my burdened
shoulders back, lifting my
wet hand, saying.
"This is all I have left.
This little tear."
Then I flick my hand quickly.
"Now it's gone."
5.27.2010
Travel-size
Sometimes, I wish I was a garden gnome
You know, the gnome in all the pictures.
With the landmarks from all over the world.
I would be able to go anywhere I wanted
Be shoved into anyone’s luggage without check-in
And off we go without a minute’s notice
What a whimsical life it would be!
Pictures upon pictures, upload after upload
Website after website, and movie cameos too!
If only I could be a garden gnome,
I’d be travel sized too!
You know, the gnome in all the pictures.
With the landmarks from all over the world.
I would be able to go anywhere I wanted
Be shoved into anyone’s luggage without check-in
And off we go without a minute’s notice
What a whimsical life it would be!
Pictures upon pictures, upload after upload
Website after website, and movie cameos too!
If only I could be a garden gnome,
I’d be travel sized too!
Blame it on the Tea
I sat at the lunch table today
It was about a quarter to two
Having my sandwich with tea
And admiring the scenic view
So why did I want to launch
My perfectly flavored green tea
At the unsuspecting window
For the pure enjoyment of glass shattering?
It would be in slow motion,
Of course, like the Matrix
I can see it now, cup flying
Tea splattering, like a glad lock commercial
The base of the cup would impact
First, followed by a satisfying
Clamor of glass hitting the window
Frame and bouncing off lunch tables
A look of disbelief would be frozen
On my face, as I peer at a nearby
Anyone to place the blame on.
The lunchroom is empty. Too bad.
Lunch is over now, and I missed
my chance. Not to Mention I ran out of tea.
Back to the old eight to five.
Better switch to coffee.
It was about a quarter to two
Having my sandwich with tea
And admiring the scenic view
So why did I want to launch
My perfectly flavored green tea
At the unsuspecting window
For the pure enjoyment of glass shattering?
It would be in slow motion,
Of course, like the Matrix
I can see it now, cup flying
Tea splattering, like a glad lock commercial
The base of the cup would impact
First, followed by a satisfying
Clamor of glass hitting the window
Frame and bouncing off lunch tables
A look of disbelief would be frozen
On my face, as I peer at a nearby
Anyone to place the blame on.
The lunchroom is empty. Too bad.
Lunch is over now, and I missed
my chance. Not to Mention I ran out of tea.
Back to the old eight to five.
Better switch to coffee.
5.23.2010
Dream
In actuality this is in response to a GLEE episode I watched on hulu last night. The "Dream On" episode. Nothing is worse than existing without a dream. Or having your dream crushed... don't let it be!
Don’t let it get away, give chase
To the one thing that your heart desires
You will know when you see it
Because you will feel it throbbing
Through your very existence.
Your fingers will tremble and shake
As you get closer to it but
It is just out of reach, only a bit further
Your throat will dry up from excitement
Your breath will shake, unsteady
Body under no control of your own
As the blood rushes to every part
Of your body and into your soul
Don’t let it get away! If any other moment
Other than this. Pursue your dream!
missing
why can't i stop thinking about you
we didn't part at the best of times
we didn't have the best of times
but you linger in my mind and in my heart
the soft hair upon my chest, tickling my chin
sighing contentedly as we sat.
breathing and sitting, breathing and sitting
eyes closed, not a single care in the world
you tilted your head to look at me
said those three words, i hoped you wouldn't
everything froze. I held you tighter, but
not a word could come from my voice
i feigned foolery to readjust, i wasn't ready
don't think i'll ever fully be. and now
i'm left holding a pillow at night
missing you, and telling myself what a fool i've been.
we didn't part at the best of times
we didn't have the best of times
but you linger in my mind and in my heart
the soft hair upon my chest, tickling my chin
sighing contentedly as we sat.
breathing and sitting, breathing and sitting
eyes closed, not a single care in the world
you tilted your head to look at me
said those three words, i hoped you wouldn't
everything froze. I held you tighter, but
not a word could come from my voice
i feigned foolery to readjust, i wasn't ready
don't think i'll ever fully be. and now
i'm left holding a pillow at night
missing you, and telling myself what a fool i've been.
5.21.2010
Fortune Cookie
Over the last few weeks I've been "borrowing" left-over fortune cookie fortunes in preparation for writing this non-linear poem. I didn't know I had this many... Lucky nothing was repeated, I just closed off the poem using the same fortune. I think it worked well. So now you guys can keep your fortunes now, i'm done :D
Don’t give into cynicism
Every day is a new life to a wise man
Change is the watchword of progression
A different world cannot be built by indifferent people
A friend will soon reveal an exciting secret to you!
Accept the next proposition you hear
A golden egg of opportunity falls into your lap this month
A frivolous gift is a gift, nonetheless
Confidence is the hinge on the door to success
Do the thing you fear and the death of fear is certain
A leader is powerful to the degree he empowers others
Confidence begets confidence
An unexpected payment is coming your way!
This week you have a good head in matters of money
Adversity is the prosperity of the great
Keep your goals away from the trolls.
Do what is right, not what you should
Listen these next few days to your friends to get answers you seek
An unexpected event will soon make your life more exciting
One look is worth ten thousand words
Tomorrow your creative side will shine forth with exceptional ideas
A good memory is one trained to forget the trivial
Delay is the deadliest form of denial
Don’t give into cynicism
5.14.2010
"As You Wish"
Wrote this during lunch. Post watching 'Princess Bride' early that morning with some friends. So I was thinking about it and thus behold! enjoy!
Hopeful eyes alight
As the unconscious stream
Of ‘would be’s’ and ‘what if’s’
Pitter off into a trench of
Forgotten finality
Invisible fingers grab
Onto lips and eyebrows
Like a puppeteer raising
The strings of its own
Melancholy marionette
Silence shatters into a
Thousand pieces of glass
Reflecting a pair of lips
Ready to burst with words
Poised with promise
“As you wish”
5.11.2010
Speech Class
My heart is racing about a thousand paces.
Will they judge me? Will they accept me?
Will they love me for who I am of what I am?
Then I stop. Does it matter?
Of course it does. Deep down inside
I can feel it like a demonic shadow
Lurking within my bone’s marrow
Sucking me dry, like a leech.
Causing my hands to tremble at
The mere thought of exposing
My heart to be dissected by the ravenous
Entity to which I stake my survival
My stomach tightens, and bile rises
Forming some tsunami of nausea
Drying my throat as I swallow
Attempting to calm the storm
The hair on my body prickles
like some spooked feline
but the most that I can do is breathe
and clench… and breathe some more
Then it is done... Speech class…
Will they judge me? Will they accept me?
Will they love me for who I am of what I am?
Then I stop. Does it matter?
Of course it does. Deep down inside
I can feel it like a demonic shadow
Lurking within my bone’s marrow
Sucking me dry, like a leech.
Causing my hands to tremble at
The mere thought of exposing
My heart to be dissected by the ravenous
Entity to which I stake my survival
My stomach tightens, and bile rises
Forming some tsunami of nausea
Drying my throat as I swallow
Attempting to calm the storm
The hair on my body prickles
like some spooked feline
but the most that I can do is breathe
and clench… and breathe some more
Then it is done... Speech class…
5.08.2010
Could you please?
Could you argue my case?
it isn’t a big deal really…
just show me off like some
prized pedigree, I’ll even do tricks
grab onto my qualifications and wave them,
like a fan made of Benjamins underneath
anyone and everyone’s nose, not
like they’d have a choice or something
take hold of my forehead and mark it
with the largest and brightest red marker
imaginable, the bigger the better
put that damn reindeer to shame
take a picture and throw it
on every and any milk carton
with my statistics, as if people cared
not like they drink milk these days
lastly graffiti my skill sets
along the wall, preferably the
indoor corridor of some famous museum
because of course BS is art
could you please argue my case?
It isn’t that I can’t
It’s just that you’ll do it better
Thanks so much in advance
<3 Me
it isn’t a big deal really…
just show me off like some
prized pedigree, I’ll even do tricks
grab onto my qualifications and wave them,
like a fan made of Benjamins underneath
anyone and everyone’s nose, not
like they’d have a choice or something
take hold of my forehead and mark it
with the largest and brightest red marker
imaginable, the bigger the better
put that damn reindeer to shame
take a picture and throw it
on every and any milk carton
with my statistics, as if people cared
not like they drink milk these days
lastly graffiti my skill sets
along the wall, preferably the
indoor corridor of some famous museum
because of course BS is art
could you please argue my case?
It isn’t that I can’t
It’s just that you’ll do it better
Thanks so much in advance
<3 Me
5.07.2010
Hunting Season
What a force to be reckoned with.
Their strong wing-beats cutting
Through the air as they shoot
Like colored comets from the sky
With one favorable glance
A flick of the wrist,
Their lengthy necks turn
As one at the new prey
A duckling approaches her
With its twinkling eyes
Evil masked by youth
Mouth open, chirping innocently
She reaches into her pocket
For the left-over roll saved
Just for this occasion,
Little does she know as the masses gather
Plucking an earnest sample
The girl drops it on the mottled green
A smile appearing from cheek to cheek
As the duckling gobbles its entrée
Chirping in satisfaction the duckling
Shakes it’s head, the girl bends
Over and closer in delight
Now the fun truly begins
Feathers cloud the air as
The ravenous winged beasts
Surmount their attack.
Moments dwindle, the scene clears
The half eaten roll is gone
Without a single remnant of its
Existence, the foul waddle
Off in search of new prey
But where is the girl?
Their strong wing-beats cutting
Through the air as they shoot
Like colored comets from the sky
With one favorable glance
A flick of the wrist,
Their lengthy necks turn
As one at the new prey
A duckling approaches her
With its twinkling eyes
Evil masked by youth
Mouth open, chirping innocently
She reaches into her pocket
For the left-over roll saved
Just for this occasion,
Little does she know as the masses gather
Plucking an earnest sample
The girl drops it on the mottled green
A smile appearing from cheek to cheek
As the duckling gobbles its entrée
Chirping in satisfaction the duckling
Shakes it’s head, the girl bends
Over and closer in delight
Now the fun truly begins
Feathers cloud the air as
The ravenous winged beasts
Surmount their attack.
Moments dwindle, the scene clears
The half eaten roll is gone
Without a single remnant of its
Existence, the foul waddle
Off in search of new prey
But where is the girl?
5.05.2010
Spring
This doesn't feel finished to me, and I wrote it 2 sunday's ago. So annoyed when writing poems and I just lose my train and can't recapture the moment. Blah.
Sunlit tranquility can only come from spring
Peaceful breezes run down my arm procuring
Words onto a blank canvas of dreams
Timeless change of radiant petaled fireworks
burst dusty incense enveloping the senses
throwing my mind into a certain euphoria
I Love the Rain
I love the rain
The cool, clean scent of
Fresh can only be described
After the perfect storm
The moody dark expressions
Of clouds instill mystery
And uncertainty as to what
Is to come, what will be next
Will it be daring sunrays
Jutting through the wall of
Gray nebulous mixtures
Or will the projectiles of water prevail
Mist becomes droplets, droplets
Turn to rain, rain signals
A new beginning for that
Which is left behind
Divots fill with tears
Overflowing and overwhelming
Man made concrete dams, running
Towards metal grates of oblivion
Fear not these waters of life
Are not forgotten but
Cycle through as acts
of renewal and invigoration
The cool, clean scent of
Fresh can only be described
After the perfect storm
The moody dark expressions
Of clouds instill mystery
And uncertainty as to what
Is to come, what will be next
Will it be daring sunrays
Jutting through the wall of
Gray nebulous mixtures
Or will the projectiles of water prevail
Mist becomes droplets, droplets
Turn to rain, rain signals
A new beginning for that
Which is left behind
Divots fill with tears
Overflowing and overwhelming
Man made concrete dams, running
Towards metal grates of oblivion
Fear not these waters of life
Are not forgotten but
Cycle through as acts
of renewal and invigoration
Shiver
Like a feather gracing my skin
Down my spine and repeats.
That familiar unsettledness
Disturbing your mental voices.
Making your breath stop
When you hear a sound that
Resonates through your bones
Your eyes and shoulders roll inward
Attempting to curb the sensation
That is fleeting yet so memorable
Wind breezing through your fingers
Scurrying to the depths of the body
Cooling the blood and every nerve
And all you want to do is scream
And shudder but all that comes out is
A shiver.
Down my spine and repeats.
That familiar unsettledness
Disturbing your mental voices.
Making your breath stop
When you hear a sound that
Resonates through your bones
Your eyes and shoulders roll inward
Attempting to curb the sensation
That is fleeting yet so memorable
Wind breezing through your fingers
Scurrying to the depths of the body
Cooling the blood and every nerve
And all you want to do is scream
And shudder but all that comes out is
A shiver.
5.04.2010
just some reflections and an attempt at freewriting
a lot of stuff has happened to me within the last week i'm almost bursting to tell but at the same time i'd rather not share alot of these memories. right now i'm at starbucks and just listening to Trading Yesterday which is (i believe) a Christian band from one of the guitar members from Evanescence. Who knew. and they are totally making me moody in my writing. i don't really want to work on anything useful. i have this very uncomfortable feeling about me, more of almost yearning. i suppose it might be that whole being single feeling thing. like i enjoy the whole single thing but can't help but wonder what would it be like. to have someone nearby, and now my thoughts are getting the best of me.
not even quite sure what i want to talk about everything is basically uneasy. i do apologize all this lack of punctuation because of the fact that i'm freewriting and when i do that it's just to lay down my ideas and whatever is going on in my mind. sometimes i just want to curl up into a bal. and just to close my eyes and imagine being held. the warm sun against my back is definately not helping, nor is the music because it's definatley making me tired and more longing than i usually am. at least i can type without loking tho i'm going to have t o attempt to read this later and i'm kind of afraid of that.
alot of music pertains to being held, to be safe, arms of love, arms wide open etc. do we all feel such insecurity? is it just now a pastime unto life that we have to endure? why is that. why does it have to be that way? to be continued...
not even quite sure what i want to talk about everything is basically uneasy. i do apologize all this lack of punctuation because of the fact that i'm freewriting and when i do that it's just to lay down my ideas and whatever is going on in my mind. sometimes i just want to curl up into a bal. and just to close my eyes and imagine being held. the warm sun against my back is definately not helping, nor is the music because it's definatley making me tired and more longing than i usually am. at least i can type without loking tho i'm going to have t o attempt to read this later and i'm kind of afraid of that.
alot of music pertains to being held, to be safe, arms of love, arms wide open etc. do we all feel such insecurity? is it just now a pastime unto life that we have to endure? why is that. why does it have to be that way? to be continued...
May I...
May I love you with my very life
May I tremble at your every touch
May I dream about you every second
May I comfort you when you need
May I hug you whenever I see you
May I cherish every moment of you
May I honor your every wish
May I protect you from harm
May I hold back the darkness
May I endure nights without you
May I hold onto every breath
May I live when you are near
May I long when you are gone
May I enfold you in my arms
May I caress your hair
May I be with you forever
May I…
May I tremble at your every touch
May I dream about you every second
May I comfort you when you need
May I hug you whenever I see you
May I cherish every moment of you
May I honor your every wish
May I protect you from harm
May I hold back the darkness
May I endure nights without you
May I hold onto every breath
May I live when you are near
May I long when you are gone
May I enfold you in my arms
May I caress your hair
May I be with you forever
May I…
A Change in Derrick
Imagine a character whose appearance has recently changed, perhaps dramatically. Maybe it was a car accident or plastic surgery, maybe just a diet, a haircut, or some new contact lenses. But remember, even a subtly change may seem huge to your character.
First write a description of your character before the change. the describe the new appearance.
Derrick was always considered a strange fellow, but he was a good kid. Strange but a good kid. He was always one of those model children that ladies whisper amongst each other “That one… his momma raised him right.” He would open doors for everyone, even the smallest lap dog, and would stand silent and smiling till everyone passed though. He would always say please and thank you, bless you, you’re welcome. Never out of forced programming but of thoughtful habituallity. He was always wearing a nice pressed collared shirt, tucked into his nice slacks, with of course a belt. A sweater would always be tied around his shoulders regardless of the weather. His hair would be slicked back without a single strand out of place. In his hand he would always be tossing a small baseball, even while opening doors. He wouldn’t ever let anyone touch this baseball. Asking about it only led to more trouble.
One afternoon, Stella and Gertrude were sitting at a café, they were just finishing their tea time and were about to get up to walk out. Usually Derrick comes in at this time and opens the door for them, and remarks on how beautiful they get everyday. Both ladies return with what a wonderful boy he is and thank him for opening the door. Today was different. As Stella and Gertrude were collecting their things, the door to the café slams open. The entire restaurant stops and looks to the door. It is Derrick. But he looks different. His hair is a black mess on top of his head, oily and resembling a bird’s nest. His clothes are different too, he is wearing ripped jeans with holes on both knees, a white T-shirt with the words “Do the Helen Keller” scrawled across the chest, big shoes with the tongue over the bottom of his jeans. He has baseball gloves, a light jacket and sunglasses which do nothing to hide the insidious glare of his eyes.
“Good afternoon Derrick” the ladies say, unfazed by his appearance. He only looks at them and then sits down at a nearby table, kicking his feet up on a chair. The ladies look to each other, shrug and walk out the door. “I wonder what’s become of him.” “I don’t know. I was going to return this to him I had it polished and boxed since his birthday is coming up. Now I’m not sure what do to.”
Gertrude takes out a small box holding Derrick’s baseball, with a ribbon wrapped around it that says “Happy Birthday.”
4.21.2010
Tantrum
“I’m over it!
I’m through!
Done! Kaput!”
We fume, and we fester
we rave…rant and
stand up on soapboxes
we call our friends
paint the town red
and shout at passerby’s
we pull our hair
make putty of our face
and pound walls
we kick anything available
throw dishes or cups
and stomp like a child
we blame the sky
scream every profanity
and yell till we turn blue, and…
s i l e n c e
we then breathe
at first quickly and then--
slower as our blood cools
And then we realize
Just how much that outburst
Drained us…of… us
I’m through!
Done! Kaput!”
We fume, and we fester
we rave…rant and
stand up on soapboxes
we call our friends
paint the town red
and shout at passerby’s
we pull our hair
make putty of our face
and pound walls
we kick anything available
throw dishes or cups
and stomp like a child
we blame the sky
scream every profanity
and yell till we turn blue, and…
s i l e n c e
we then breathe
at first quickly and then--
slower as our blood cools
And then we realize
Just how much that outburst
Drained us…of… us
4.19.2010
Broken Ideas, Broken Intent
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villanelle This was my assignment this time around. 1st Draft. I'm kind of a little proud of it. I'll tighten it later.
you are just beginning to live
as if those words meant something
broken ideas, with broken intent
yet we expect miracles from them.
in our dreams we run and sing
we are just beginning to live
chasing shadows, causing mayhem
but that is just only the icing
broken ideas, with broken intent
with your eyes closed counting to ten
I shuffle around in my spot, waiting
I’m just beginning to live
lights blare and shouts of men
with my head on my arms resting
broken ideas, with broken intent
running by those eyes that condemn
without a care snickering
we are beginning to live
broken ideas, without broken intent
4.17.2010
S'Mores
Fire fire burning bright
Casting shadows with its light
Dancing sparks escaping plight
Climbing smokestacks upon this night
Marshmallows turn, change from white
Brown and toast, oh just right
Spread on crackers, spread so tight
And the chocolate melts on sight
Casting shadows with its light
Dancing sparks escaping plight
Climbing smokestacks upon this night
Marshmallows turn, change from white
Brown and toast, oh just right
Spread on crackers, spread so tight
And the chocolate melts on sight
4.16.2010
Masterpiece
Everything about you is perfect.
Your hair, eyes, that impish smile,
those ears that wiggle…when you do.
Your skin, flawless and glowing;
at least you are to me.
Your voice takes my breath away
even the simplest sigh can
knock me back ten paces.
Your laugh is my favorite soundtrack
that I can listen to hours on end.
When you are excited it’s like Christmas
in your eyes, sparkling shining,
the only thing missing is the bow.
You move with grace, magical
like a dance that only you know.
For you are my masterpiece
and I made you so.
-God
Your hair, eyes, that impish smile,
those ears that wiggle…when you do.
Your skin, flawless and glowing;
at least you are to me.
Your voice takes my breath away
even the simplest sigh can
knock me back ten paces.
Your laugh is my favorite soundtrack
that I can listen to hours on end.
When you are excited it’s like Christmas
in your eyes, sparkling shining,
the only thing missing is the bow.
You move with grace, magical
like a dance that only you know.
For you are my masterpiece
and I made you so.
-God
TGIF
Eight to five
Meeting after lunch
Take this memo
I need copies
Driving in traffic
Grande drip please
Yes with room,
No pastry today
Order the supplies
When is Fedex
Rush this please
I need auth!
Where’s my confirmation
Is mail here?
Need this ASAP
Get that call!
Dress down Friday
Oh thank god
I’m leaving early
Happy hour anyone?
Meeting after lunch
Take this memo
I need copies
Driving in traffic
Grande drip please
Yes with room,
No pastry today
Order the supplies
When is Fedex
Rush this please
I need auth!
Where’s my confirmation
Is mail here?
Need this ASAP
Get that call!
Dress down Friday
Oh thank god
I’m leaving early
Happy hour anyone?
4.15.2010
Fairy Tears
Averie looks around her. Irritated she flutters almost iridescent wings, lifting her small body off the blood soaked ground. She kicks the earlobe angrily almost dislodging her balance in midair, causing her to get even more irritated. Well at least this one died upright, I had a huge problem with the last… She grabs her knife and plunges it hilt deep into the corpse. Fueled with fairy magic it elongates inside the body and cuts through bones and other body matter like butter. Once she reaches the area of where she started she removes her knife. Once more she plunges again, but this time in the middle of the area she cut, and flaps backwards in attempts to get the section out. Come… on…how can you be so difficult when you are dead! Her teeth gritting, eyes shut in concentration. The section of flesh moves slightly and slowly.
At long last it drops onto the ground, and not too much longer so does Averie exhausted. Her small chest heaving in bouts of breathing, she looks at her hands and winces. Her tiny pearled hands, so delicate to be able to add dew before sunrise on flowers and leaves, able to craft such intricate illusions to fool those humans; drenched in blood. Pools of blood form as if runs from her fingers filling the palms, slowly overflowing down her arms distressing her delicate dress of gold and green. Averie’s shoulders shake as her hands begin to tremble, the stream of tears dripping down her doll face. This was not her first kill, yet at the same time the pain hurts just as much each time. She takes a deep breath and sighs. Taking her bloodstained hands and wiping them along the man’s clothes, she looks at him fondly.
“I’m sorry, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wish it could be otherwise.”
Sitting on a nearby rock Averie reminisces about this man… Ethan. He was a human, one of the last few remaining in the decrepit world. She remembers first seeing him walking in what used to be a meadow field. The only reminent of the field was the bleak barreness of the open space. Averie was sitting on this same rock when she heard the sound of scuffling feet. Curious she flew over to inspect this man. Ethan was walking with his hands in his brown jacket, humming some familiar tune. Without warning he begins singing…
“Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.”
Averie stops at the wondrous sound, literally everything stops moving, and then she started falling. “Oh!” she says as she regains composure and balance as well as the use of her wings. He stops and looks around, hearing her. She quickly zips behind some nearby rocks.
“Who’s there?” Ethan asks. “Anyone there? I heard you. Come out, I won’t hurt you.”
Averie takes a breath and peers around the corner of the rock she is hiding behind. Ethan smiles as he sees her.
“Come on out. I won’t hurt you.” He holds out his hand as if he is coaxing a small faun from hiding, not moving, barely breathing, blue eyes shining excitedly through his wisps of his sandy hair.
Averie ducks back behind the rock, then in one quick motion zooms out and dances around Ethan. He laughs, a hearty chuckle, turning his head in attempts to watch her. She giggles as he begins spinning around in place. “What… are you?” At that Averie stops in front of his face so that his eyes can orient on her. Smoothing her sage dress which stops mid thigh, showing her slender sylph-like legs, her bell sleeves intricately decorated with gold lacing like a spider’s web. Her wings are shaped like a dragonfly’s, two on top and two on the bottom, very transparent and shimmering with every color of the rainbow.
“You are beautiful. Do you have a name?”
“Averie” she twitters her response. “I’m a fairy.”
“Well you look like a princess. I’m pleased to meet your acquaintance.” With that Ethan backs up and bows low for her, which causes Averie to blush.
“I like you Ethan. You are very polite… for a human.”
“Thank you Lady Averie, from a human.” His slight smirk causes her to blush yet again. Averie straightens her head, sniffing around.
“Something wrong?”
“Oh nothing, Ethan. Please wait here, I will be right back.” Without another word she flies away. Following her nose she spots the source, a slavering goblin hobbling towards where she left Ethan.
“What… do you want, Srumk!” she accuses, hands on hips eyes glaring at the goblin.”
Srumk looks up at her with annoyance. “I smell a human. You know of the bounty.”
“Well you can think again, he’s my human, I already marked him so you can back off!”
“Oh really! Well fairy… do the job then. I personally don’t think you can. You fairies are such flitty creatures, finding a human, falling in love, and being all ‘lovey-dovey’ it’s enough to make a succubus sick!”
“Excuse me! How dare your arrogance goblin! I’ll do the job, don’t you worry!”
“Good because once you screw up, I’ll be watching. And the bounty will be mine!” Averie glares once more at Srumk in hatred before turning away and flying back to Ethan. I guess I have no choice now… he is so nice too.
“Ethan? Are you there?”
“Lady Averie! Yes I’m here!”
“Good! Can I ask you a favor? Can you sing that song again for me it was so beautiful.”
“Of course my milady.” Ethan closes his eyes as he smiles remembering the song and the images of the green meadows, and towering trees in which he first heard the song, sang to him by his father. A tear escapes his eyes as he envisions his father bathed in light from the sun, it was a gorgeous sight. He starts singing “Oh Shenandoah” once more.
“Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, I'm bound away--.”
Averie glances upwards towards the dismal sky. Dark and foreboding like hell unfurled its gates from the sky. Already the sounds of foragers are forming; they all can smell the fresh blood. Srumk rumbles up behind her.
“I didn’t think you could go through with it fairy.”
“Shut-up goblin and get out of here, lest I do the same for you.”
Nothing is uglier than a goblin smiling. The closest thing is a fairy crying…
At long last it drops onto the ground, and not too much longer so does Averie exhausted. Her small chest heaving in bouts of breathing, she looks at her hands and winces. Her tiny pearled hands, so delicate to be able to add dew before sunrise on flowers and leaves, able to craft such intricate illusions to fool those humans; drenched in blood. Pools of blood form as if runs from her fingers filling the palms, slowly overflowing down her arms distressing her delicate dress of gold and green. Averie’s shoulders shake as her hands begin to tremble, the stream of tears dripping down her doll face. This was not her first kill, yet at the same time the pain hurts just as much each time. She takes a deep breath and sighs. Taking her bloodstained hands and wiping them along the man’s clothes, she looks at him fondly.
“I’m sorry, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wish it could be otherwise.”
Sitting on a nearby rock Averie reminisces about this man… Ethan. He was a human, one of the last few remaining in the decrepit world. She remembers first seeing him walking in what used to be a meadow field. The only reminent of the field was the bleak barreness of the open space. Averie was sitting on this same rock when she heard the sound of scuffling feet. Curious she flew over to inspect this man. Ethan was walking with his hands in his brown jacket, humming some familiar tune. Without warning he begins singing…
“Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, I'm bound away, cross the wide Missouri.”
Averie stops at the wondrous sound, literally everything stops moving, and then she started falling. “Oh!” she says as she regains composure and balance as well as the use of her wings. He stops and looks around, hearing her. She quickly zips behind some nearby rocks.
“Who’s there?” Ethan asks. “Anyone there? I heard you. Come out, I won’t hurt you.”
Averie takes a breath and peers around the corner of the rock she is hiding behind. Ethan smiles as he sees her.
“Come on out. I won’t hurt you.” He holds out his hand as if he is coaxing a small faun from hiding, not moving, barely breathing, blue eyes shining excitedly through his wisps of his sandy hair.
Averie ducks back behind the rock, then in one quick motion zooms out and dances around Ethan. He laughs, a hearty chuckle, turning his head in attempts to watch her. She giggles as he begins spinning around in place. “What… are you?” At that Averie stops in front of his face so that his eyes can orient on her. Smoothing her sage dress which stops mid thigh, showing her slender sylph-like legs, her bell sleeves intricately decorated with gold lacing like a spider’s web. Her wings are shaped like a dragonfly’s, two on top and two on the bottom, very transparent and shimmering with every color of the rainbow.
“You are beautiful. Do you have a name?”
“Averie” she twitters her response. “I’m a fairy.”
“Well you look like a princess. I’m pleased to meet your acquaintance.” With that Ethan backs up and bows low for her, which causes Averie to blush.
“I like you Ethan. You are very polite… for a human.”
“Thank you Lady Averie, from a human.” His slight smirk causes her to blush yet again. Averie straightens her head, sniffing around.
“Something wrong?”
“Oh nothing, Ethan. Please wait here, I will be right back.” Without another word she flies away. Following her nose she spots the source, a slavering goblin hobbling towards where she left Ethan.
“What… do you want, Srumk!” she accuses, hands on hips eyes glaring at the goblin.”
Srumk looks up at her with annoyance. “I smell a human. You know of the bounty.”
“Well you can think again, he’s my human, I already marked him so you can back off!”
“Oh really! Well fairy… do the job then. I personally don’t think you can. You fairies are such flitty creatures, finding a human, falling in love, and being all ‘lovey-dovey’ it’s enough to make a succubus sick!”
“Excuse me! How dare your arrogance goblin! I’ll do the job, don’t you worry!”
“Good because once you screw up, I’ll be watching. And the bounty will be mine!” Averie glares once more at Srumk in hatred before turning away and flying back to Ethan. I guess I have no choice now… he is so nice too.
“Ethan? Are you there?”
“Lady Averie! Yes I’m here!”
“Good! Can I ask you a favor? Can you sing that song again for me it was so beautiful.”
“Of course my milady.” Ethan closes his eyes as he smiles remembering the song and the images of the green meadows, and towering trees in which he first heard the song, sang to him by his father. A tear escapes his eyes as he envisions his father bathed in light from the sun, it was a gorgeous sight. He starts singing “Oh Shenandoah” once more.
“Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,
Away, you rolling river
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, I'm bound away--.”
Averie glances upwards towards the dismal sky. Dark and foreboding like hell unfurled its gates from the sky. Already the sounds of foragers are forming; they all can smell the fresh blood. Srumk rumbles up behind her.
“I didn’t think you could go through with it fairy.”
“Shut-up goblin and get out of here, lest I do the same for you.”
Nothing is uglier than a goblin smiling. The closest thing is a fairy crying…
4.13.2010
The Past
This is my first attempt at a Sonnet. I used the Shakespeare version of 3 quads and a couplet for the 14 lines. the only thing I could think of was the quote "The past is the past... no one cares." which came at me from the speaker at my church. Enjoy!
The story is fresh within my mind
The pen arches and flourishes with life
As it dances across the destined lines
Pursuing the tale, like a hound after a fox.
Each instance vivid in colors, bursting
Into images, a movie on big screen
The actors are flawless, each line
Presented as emotional perfection
The audience cries when needed, laughs
Appreciatively, their hearts fill
With the tale like it was theirs to own
Yet they only paid for admission.
To what does it matter, does it
Invigorate. The Past is the Past.
4.11.2010
Moving Day
Inspired by Judy T.
I hate moving shelves
they are shaped funny.
Boxes I can stand,
at least they are square.
I can move drawers,
those are fine.
I love moving furniture
because of how easy
it slides on carpet;
If you lay it flat.
Even trying to figure
out which way to turn it,
is amusing, like a puzzle.
packing isn't too fun,
mostly because I don't
know where things are
supposed to go.
Unpacking is great.
Just stick everything
in the garage.
Moving day,
great...I have to move too.
I hate moving shelves
they are shaped funny.
Boxes I can stand,
at least they are square.
I can move drawers,
those are fine.
I love moving furniture
because of how easy
it slides on carpet;
If you lay it flat.
Even trying to figure
out which way to turn it,
is amusing, like a puzzle.
packing isn't too fun,
mostly because I don't
know where things are
supposed to go.
Unpacking is great.
Just stick everything
in the garage.
Moving day,
great...I have to move too.
4.09.2010
Childplay
Prompt
Character: Raven Sorceress
Image: A dark granite cliff, winds whipping around stirring even the heaviest from their deepest slumbers.
(Note: Shannon is pronounced Sh-ae-nen”
The doors slam as Coreena marches into the throne room. “Shannon! Shannon answer me! None of this trickery! Shannon!” she calls hysterically rushing throughout. Her long black dress whips around the deserted suits of armor standing guard, each to his own pillar. “Damn it… where have you gone?”
Coreena reaches for her fan adorned with countless black raven feathers from behind her. She picks two longingly and kisses them with her black lips. “Huginn, Muninn. Come to your mistress.” She then tosses the two feathers into the air. The feathers glow white and burst into two ravens. They both land on each of Coreena’s bare white shoulders, Huginn on the left, Muninn on the right. “Find him for me, my loves. Search high and wide.” They both nestle against Coreena’s neck longingly before taking off, strongly and silently, their bright black orb eyes intent on their target.
Sighing Coreena seats herself on the throne, her pale white hand propping up her face under her pointed chin, as she blows the dark brown wisps of hair out of her pearl white eyes in annoyance. She leans against the throne diagonally, her nymph-like legs exposed from underneath the dark dress as she moves, crossing her ankles right over left relaxed.
Coreena straightens abruptly and looks around. Seeing no one around, she stretches her torso and adjusts the slightly slipping black leather corset. Finishing up the ritual she takes out her fan again. Plucking yet another feather, she returns the fan to her back, and focuses back to the feather. Closing her hands around the black feather carefully without crushing it, she chants an ancient language too soft to be heard. Her hair whips back from her face as it is illumed by white relics framing her eyebrows. As grandly as they appear they disappear leaving her hands glowing with white power. The light fades and she opens her hands, revealing a small circular mirror. Gracefully smiling at it, Coreena holds it up, fixes her hair, her makeup and finalizing her lips. Pleased with herself she lets the mirror and accessories disappear, a loud wearisome ‘rawk’ sounds the air.
Coreena turns to see both Huginn and Muninn’s glazed expressions watching her. She stifles a blush. “You didn’t see anything!” If ravens could look exasperated, they were indeed. Clearing her throat, Coreena changes the subject. “Did you find anything?” Both ravens ruffle their feathers and shake their heads. “I thought so… alright follow me.” Coreena gets up from the throne with as much dignity as she can muster, she grandly strides back out of the throne room and out of the castle. The ravens swoop after her and take to the castle walls as Coreena thinks of where else to go.
Rawk! Coreena looks up to see Muninn dart downwards towards her carrying a long white flight feather. “Figures…ok where to Muninn.” The raven takes off towards the castle again and disappears. “What in the world…” Coreena stops to call for Huginn. “Huginn, stay with me, you can lead me to Muninn.” Huginn obediently lands on her left should and she starts briskly moving towards where Muninn disappeared. A surge of power trembles through Coreena as she wanders closer and closer to the disappearing point. “Ready Huginn? Let’s go!” The raven nods, its eyes bright and confident.
Coreena steps through only to be assaulted by a blast of wind that nearly tears Huginn from her shoulder. Grabbing the raven, ignoring the irritated sounds its making she tucks it underneath her arm for protection. “Sorry about this Huginn.” As she plucks a feather and transforms it into a long hooded robe. Huginn squawks in alarm and annoyance. “What?!? We need to keep covered and you’d be tossed aside. We are so not having this conversation, we have to find Muninn!” Corenna looks up to see a dark foreboding granite cliff. She can see the winds whipping around, so raucous that it could stir even the heaviest giants from their deepest slumbers. At least she hoped there weren’t giants.
“Well this is getting a bit dangerous. We can’t go into that like is. Stay under my robe, I’m going to have to create a shield. No, I won’t be taking your feathers, so you can calm down.” Corenna take her robe and tucks Huginn into it leaving a small space for his yellow beak to peer out. Clearing her mind she takes out her fan again. Closing her eyes, with both hands holding the fan, she begins to hum an eerie melody. The wind seems to slow down to a crawl but Coreena doesn’t notice. Her hands start glowing with white, and she opens her eyes and the fan in one motion. The markings on her face appear just as abruptly and her eyebrows below them are furrowed in concentration. Her mouth opens and the melody turns into a song as Coreena dances around with her fan. Using circular motions around her she casts the shield spell. As she nears the end of the song, she holds the fan with both hands near her bosom and thrusts upward, and all the black raven feather shimmer into white. One, two, three, fifteen seconds, a minute later, Coreena lowers her hands. Smiling she picks up her robe and a quiet Huginn. “It should be safe, stay with me still the shield isn’t too big. Let’s go find Muninn.” Huginn nods in agreement.
Coreena scurries up through the towering cliff like a child. The wind is held back braced by her shield; as she listens to Huginn lead her onwards. Coreena is beginning to get worried; as she looks around her through the invisible shield she can’t help but think about Muninn. Without this shield she could have been thrown all over the place, and with the cliff and the jagged rocks ferociously decorating it, she wouldn’t know how she would have survived the trek. She gathers her dress and start to climb quicker, not allowing the tears to begin. Breathing hard she turns to Huginn, “One more bend right? Ok we can do this.” She reaches the last bend and with both her hands pulls herself up to see…
“Muninn! You’re safe! Shannon! Was this really necessary?” Atop the cliff the land flattens out with a barren tree in the middle. Muninn flies from it to Coreena’s right shoulder and nuzzles into her. Even Huginn is happy to see its friend safe and sound. A soft thud sounds nearby distracting them all. A white snowy owl looks at the companions and blinks its big eyes at them. Hooting softly at the sight. “Shannon, you didn’t answer me! Was this really necessary?!”
A rustle of feathers later, and a small boy peers from behind a pile of white feathers. “Well you don’t play with me anymore! I had to do something!”
“All of this?!? This was a bit unnecessary, you had me all worried… about you… about Muninn…”
“I’m sorry sis. I’ll get rid of it.” Shannon claps his hands and everyone is returned to the castle where it all started.
“Shannon?”
“Yeah sis?”
“The next time you want to play ‘Hide and Seek’… just ask?”
“Okay sis.” Shannon smiles at his sister.
Friday Night
Prompt
“You wake up in a field in the middle of the night covered in blood. It is not yours, and the sound of a police siren is quickly approaching. The only items you find in your pocket are a silver key and some piano wire, and you have no idea how they got there or what they are for.”
Friday night. Everything always happens on Friday night. It’s is so cliché that you wouldn’t think anything about it. None of these thoughts to plan ahead, to make sure that everything you could do to prevent a horrific Friday night from happening. Just like Friday the 13th. You know it’ll be a bad day, that historically Murphy’s Law and Friday the 13th go hand in hand. So you make sure you jump over cracks, kick all black cats from crossing your path, avoid ladders at all costs, and meticulously go through fields and fields looking for a 4-leaf clover. If a rainbow so happens to appear, you chase it at a dead run hoping for something good to happen. The previous night you wish upon a star to make Friday the 13th, to go well, you hug your lucky teddy all night, snuggle with your favorite blanket, call out your guardian stars by formal name and in order, and sing yourself asleep with your favorite nursery rhymes.
Tonight was the predestined night. I was planning this night for weeks. We would go out to dinner before the football game. I’m not even sure who is playing tonight. Doesn’t matter to say the least, I’m sure we wouldn’t be watching it anyways. Then Tamara would get cold, because of course, I told her that we’d only be going to dinner so she would dress cute and not bring a jacket. I’d get out of my leather-man and let her wear it and then do the “shoulder move.” This is going to be flawless. Cuddling will lead to necking, and then we’d start kissing. It will be perfect!
“Brent, you coming?!”
“Uh Yeah! Sorry.”
I start into a mild jog to catch up with the guys. The name is Brent, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m just a regular guy: track star, top wrestler in my weight range, home run hitter, oh did I mention I can sing? Other than that just a regular guy, did I mention I have great hair? So I finally got a date with this hot chick named Tamara. She’s like… WOW. I don’t even know how to describe her. She has red gorgeous hair, long just the way I like it, smoky eyes, pale white skin, luscious thick lips, and a body that makes you want to… well yeah (clears throat) I think you get the idea. She’s weird though. She doesn’t really talk to anyone, no one really wonders why. I wouldn’t have asked her if it wasn’t for that bet. Wow, she is hot. I’ve been hounding her for about 2 months now. At first she was a bit put off, something about “If you talk to me again, I’ll cut off your manhood with this protractor.” Yeah, seriously… who even has protractors these days? Well I kept on talking to her until she finally made a deal with me. “Okay, if I go on this date with you, will you please leave me alone? I know about the bet you made.” I was so stoked I just stood there like an idiot and nodded like one of those dipping bird things. I sealed my fate that day…
I was just getting out of the shower, had a towel wrapped around my waist when I realized it today was Friday the 13th. I’m usually not superstitious, just a little bit more aware of my surroundings. I didn’t think anything of it. Today was going to be the greatest day of my life. I have a date with the mysterious Tamara! I started singing out loud while I was changing and doing all the things on my check list, Cobra Starship’s Good Girls Gone Bad, should fit the occasion quite nicely. Prancing around my room like the village idiot, I felt like Tom Cruise from ‘Risky Business.’ Anyways down to business: cologne – check, Binaca™ – check, deodorant – check, wallet – check, condoms – check and double check, sexy hair – cheeeeeeck, car keys – check, chap stick – check, money – uh… check, clothes – check, looking good? – Triple check, did I floss? – Ah snap!
We have reservations at some Italian place, don’t even ask me what it’s called… it’s in… well Italian. It’s at 6:00pm, and it’s just turning 5:20pm right now. I should probably go get Tamara; I hope she isn’t the kind of girl that takes 3 hours to get ready. Basically I go and get her, thankfully she is already changed, waiting and scowling at me. “You’re late!” I barely heard that because my jaw was already on the floor when she opened the door. Wow she is even hotter; I didn’t know that would even be possible.
“Uh…”
“Shut-up, let’s go. I’m leaving!” she calls out to her family, grabs my arm and practically drags me to my car. “Open the door, the sooner we get this started the sooner it’ll all be over.” She looks at me with this ferocious glare on her face, wisps of hair flying around her, lips pursed, arms crossed over her tight black dress and black heels. “Brent! Open the dang door!”
“Oh sorry.” This will be a night to remember that’s for sure.
We got to the restaurant and ate, nothing exciting there, half the dinner was spent in silence. Wow the food was good. I’ll remember this place for next chick. I did accidently slurp my pasta a bit much and flicked a tomato on her dress. Let’s just say that wasn’t the smartest move in the world. Tamara groaned and went to the bathroom. She came back after a long while, I was almost afraid she left me. Then I forgot everything, because she smiled at me.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad date. I’ll try harder, honest.”
I have no idea what came over her, but I’m not complaining. We talked small talk over dessert, and she laughed a couple times at my jokes. WIN! I checked my watch, oh geez the game already started. It’s almost half time. “Did you want to go catch the rest of the football game?”
“Sure, let’s go!” more energetic than I thought she could.
So I paid the bill, pulled the chair out for Tamara and we left, with her holding my arm. Success! We drove back to school, and we were holding hands the entire car ride. Tamara is a pretty cool girl. I’m not sure what she is talking about half the time but at least she is good to look at. We park and I remembered to open the door for her, this night is going great. It’s about 8:00pm by now and the moon is out, gorgeous night actually. She rubs up against be and shivers slightly, I take the hint and take off my leather man’s jacket for her, and wrap it around her shoulders. She smiles at me, and gets up on her tiptoes to give me a quick peck on the cheek. Correction this night is awesome!
No one is at the gate to let us through, so the game is a bust. “Want to just walk around?” she asks. I nod, not a bad idea. So we start walking towards the end of the field, towards the baseball field, with my arm around her shoulder and she snuggles into me. We talk a bit more and she decides at this moment to sit on the lawn right here. Then we make-out. Crazy make-out session. Very surprise make-out session. Did I mention crazy? Yeah. I could hear some footsteps behind me, but I didn’t care. I’m necking with one of the hottest girls on campus.
“Hey… HEY! Get up you slut!” a stern commanding female voice said.
“What in the world are you…” and with that I got kicked in the side of my head. I roll over to the side, shaking my head, attempting to fix the blurry vision. I can hear two women voices screeching at each other. First thought? Threesome… excellent!
“What the hell do you think you are doing! Tying me up in the bathroom!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about”
The voices sound familiar, a little too familiar to me, as if…they are coming from the same person... I try to shake off this dizzy spell but whatever kicked me in the head had army boots or something. I can see two shapes, both black with red on top, but still arguing with each other. That was definitely a good makeout session, I’m hecka sweating. I reach up to wipe the sweat off side of my head. Jesus! I’m bleeding! The metallic smell finally registers in my head when I see it and I start to loose consciousness. I’m hearing shouting and screams but I can’t see anything, it’s all too blurry for me to make anything out. Then it’s over.
“Hey! There’s someone over here! Someone call 911, he’s bleeding!!!” sounds a far off cry.
“Look there’s a blood trail! Maybe someone else is hurt!”
“Did anyone call the cops?!”
“I did, they’re coming!”
“Look he moved! He’s alive!”
“Hey son, you alright?” a gruff voice hovers over me. Then a sharp slap hits my cheek. I wince at the pain. “C’mon son, rise and shine!” a few more slaps.
“Alright, alright! Do you always slap people so damn hard?” I hear a deep chuckle. I feel strong arms underneath me, pulling me up into a sitting position. I start to open my eyes and look straight into the eyes of a bearded man. I pull back reflexively.
“You ok son?” the man asks. He looks about 30 something. Like that matters to me, I glance downward and almost throw up. I’m pretty much covered in blood.
“Geez! Why am I covered in blood?”
“We thought you could tell us that answer son. What happened here tonight?” as the man helps me to my feet.
“Well there was this girl…” I started rummaging through my pockets, that’s what I do when I nervous. “What the…”
“You find something son?” The man asked. He looks very serious.
“Uh. No. I’m gonna go walk it out for a bit. Still in shock. I’ll be in sight. Don’t worry I’m not running.”
“Ok son, you let me know, I’m going to go talk to the police.”
As soon as he leaves, I turn around. What the heck is in here? Turning my pockets inside out three things fall out. A note with some blood on it, a thin wire, and a small silver key. Who would have stuck this crap into my pocket…Tamara! I open the note. It reads, “You know what you have to do. Finish the job. 486 Perry 12 39 37”
4.08.2010
She Teases Me
She teases me
With pictures and notions
Ideas and promises
So vivid in beauty
Captivating because she can
Only to dangle them
On a string attached to a rod
She teases me
Slipping into my bed at night
Caressing my hair
Whispering oh sweet
Nothings about nothing
Running her fingers
Down my spine only to disappear
She teases me
Taking my glasses and hiding them
So that I have to hear
The words she tells me
So that I can see what life
Has in store for us
Of course she doesn’t give them back
She teases me
Infiltrating my dreams
Making me do acrobatics
Fight monsters save
Everyone with my smile
Leap off tall buildings
Then she wakes me, when it gets good
She teases me
Sigh… damn Muse…
She teases me
With pictures and notions
Ideas and promises
So vivid in beauty
Captivating because she can
Only to dangle them
On a string attached to a rod
She teases me
Slipping into my bed at night
Caressing my hair
Whispering oh sweet
Nothings about nothing
Running her fingers
Down my spine only to disappear
She teases me
Taking my glasses and hiding them
So that I have to hear
The words she tells me
So that I can see what life
Has in store for us
Of course she doesn’t give them back
She teases me
Infiltrating my dreams
Making me do acrobatics
Fight monsters save
Everyone with my smile
Leap off tall buildings
Then she wakes me, when it gets good
She teases me
Sigh… damn Muse…
She teases me
4.07.2010
Storm Watcher
It’s quiet
The clouds have moved in
Obscuring the Sky, chasing her away
with their dark countenance
drip…drop
marks the cry of angels
thrashing amidst each other relentless
shedding tears of anguish
rumble
harkens the musician
clever and spontaneous with his drum’s
deep and solemn rhythm
the players are in position waiting
for their conductor’s arrival
leaves swirl upon howls of impatience
for the promised concert
a flash of light indicates that
he is on his way
however he isn’t alone
his darling daughter will be dancing
A clatter sounds behind me.
It is my dear wife bringing a cup
Of coffee for me to indulge in
How wonderful she is
“Anything yet?”
“No the concert hasn’t started,
you haven’t missed a thing.”
“Good” as she settles by my side
Together we watch in silence
As the players ready
And the conductor takes his place
His daughter waiting eagerly
Then everything crashes down,
Lights flash, the earth shakes
My ears assaulted
my eyes dazzled
“I love watching storms…”
The clouds have moved in
Obscuring the Sky, chasing her away
with their dark countenance
drip…drop
marks the cry of angels
thrashing amidst each other relentless
shedding tears of anguish
rumble
harkens the musician
clever and spontaneous with his drum’s
deep and solemn rhythm
the players are in position waiting
for their conductor’s arrival
leaves swirl upon howls of impatience
for the promised concert
a flash of light indicates that
he is on his way
however he isn’t alone
his darling daughter will be dancing
A clatter sounds behind me.
It is my dear wife bringing a cup
Of coffee for me to indulge in
How wonderful she is
“Anything yet?”
“No the concert hasn’t started,
you haven’t missed a thing.”
“Good” as she settles by my side
Together we watch in silence
As the players ready
And the conductor takes his place
His daughter waiting eagerly
Then everything crashes down,
Lights flash, the earth shakes
My ears assaulted
my eyes dazzled
“I love watching storms…”
4.06.2010
Private Lesson
She bursts through my door
I don’t have a chance to say a word
Dropping everything, her purse
Shoes, hair, gloves, everything
I tell her to take it slow
So we can feel it
But there is no stopping her
She wants it done,
she wants it done now
retreating into the nearest room
I clamber for some sort of advance
She won’t have it
Taking my face in both hands
She puckers my lips
My breath catches
She stops. taking the time
To tell me to relax
This wasn’t her first time
She takes my hand in hers
And guides my finger treacherously
Down arcing lines and up again
Stopping to pause ever so slightly
She moves with her eyes
Sometimes slower other times faster
Crossing my path and then lies over me
I reach for my water
Sweat glistening across my brow
She grabs my hand and wags her finger
No, we aren’t done yet
She says un-mercilessly
Her hair tangles into mine
While she leans upon my abdomen
Places her hands along my waist
She pushes, again and again
I’m about to faint but she wags
One last time
Piercing the room with our cry
Her voice carries higher than my own
And stops, ringing throughout
She turns to me, eyes wild
Lips parted, panting
Do you get it?
Oh I get it, I do
My stomach tingles from where she
Touched me. I get it.
I don’t have a chance to say a word
Dropping everything, her purse
Shoes, hair, gloves, everything
I tell her to take it slow
So we can feel it
But there is no stopping her
She wants it done,
she wants it done now
retreating into the nearest room
I clamber for some sort of advance
She won’t have it
Taking my face in both hands
She puckers my lips
My breath catches
She stops. taking the time
To tell me to relax
This wasn’t her first time
She takes my hand in hers
And guides my finger treacherously
Down arcing lines and up again
Stopping to pause ever so slightly
She moves with her eyes
Sometimes slower other times faster
Crossing my path and then lies over me
I reach for my water
Sweat glistening across my brow
She grabs my hand and wags her finger
No, we aren’t done yet
She says un-mercilessly
Her hair tangles into mine
While she leans upon my abdomen
Places her hands along my waist
She pushes, again and again
I’m about to faint but she wags
One last time
Piercing the room with our cry
Her voice carries higher than my own
And stops, ringing throughout
She turns to me, eyes wild
Lips parted, panting
Do you get it?
Oh I get it, I do
My stomach tingles from where she
Touched me. I get it.
4.05.2010
Restrained
His pure white eye balances out the brown one
The mangy yellow coat reminiscent of a lion
Silently sitting as the petals float by
Adrift by today’s bipolar weather
A plastic cup, his only possession
Not even half full, more empty
His bushy tail drags behind him, hardly lifting
Hardly doing anything
Ears pulled back at times
Listening, waiting, hoping
Paws waiting, eager for his master
He limps and settles back into position
People pass him on the street,
He doesn’t even acknowledge their presence
He’s just waiting and watching
Sniffing the air as he adjusts
The only movement is his head
As it twists and turns reacting
To the unsettled outside environment
And his sad eyes searching and piercing me
“will they come for me?
Where are they? Why am I…
Restrained…”
The mangy yellow coat reminiscent of a lion
Silently sitting as the petals float by
Adrift by today’s bipolar weather
A plastic cup, his only possession
Not even half full, more empty
His bushy tail drags behind him, hardly lifting
Hardly doing anything
Ears pulled back at times
Listening, waiting, hoping
Paws waiting, eager for his master
He limps and settles back into position
People pass him on the street,
He doesn’t even acknowledge their presence
He’s just waiting and watching
Sniffing the air as he adjusts
The only movement is his head
As it twists and turns reacting
To the unsettled outside environment
And his sad eyes searching and piercing me
“will they come for me?
Where are they? Why am I…
Restrained…”
4.02.2010
2012 Review
Took words and phrases from this movie review of 2012. http://www.cinerina.com/reviews/2012-2/
I’m not giving anything away
our world ends.
civilization lost
crumbling minds desperate.
fun, that was what the doctor ordered.
direct havoc
quaking, compliments(complements) it all better
people so distracted when crashing in a car,
every person collapses seeing that.
we’re just here to ride along.
look out for the race against time!
Realize, to make something successful
You face any direction and
Once we know, we will
Complete his destiny
Who will get his just reward
I’m not giving anything away
our world ends.
civilization lost
crumbling minds desperate.
fun, that was what the doctor ordered.
direct havoc
quaking, compliments(complements) it all better
people so distracted when crashing in a car,
every person collapses seeing that.
we’re just here to ride along.
look out for the race against time!
Realize, to make something successful
You face any direction and
Once we know, we will
Complete his destiny
Who will get his just reward
4.01.2010
Streetlife
(Wish I could remember the book I took these quotes from. This was an unconcious writing exercise. I choose phrases from a book randomly and organized it into something somewhat like a poem.)
We crouched on wet gravel
at the empty suburban park
before us three stories of columns
like patterns of Italian book paper.
Lucky, the skater,
he was the newest thing here.
his fugitive life
the stuff of metaphor.
My garden has no outside
black tulips, commingling of leaves
at the moment of dying,
incomplete until they’re opened.
The transit of almost translucent swans
upon night lover’s rendezvous,
like metallic particles
tattooing the water with the storm’s million fingerprints.
The gregarious sixteen year old
with his endless distracting monologue,
intentional gestures, running on almost mechanically
about how it is easier for a woman to panhandle.
We crouched on wet gravel
at the empty suburban park
before us three stories of columns
like patterns of Italian book paper.
Lucky, the skater,
he was the newest thing here.
his fugitive life
the stuff of metaphor.
My garden has no outside
black tulips, commingling of leaves
at the moment of dying,
incomplete until they’re opened.
The transit of almost translucent swans
upon night lover’s rendezvous,
like metallic particles
tattooing the water with the storm’s million fingerprints.
The gregarious sixteen year old
with his endless distracting monologue,
intentional gestures, running on almost mechanically
about how it is easier for a woman to panhandle.
3.26.2010
Go - Chance Poem
This is a chance poem:
write a poem by selecting words or phrases from a dictionary in conformity with the numbers in your birth date. if you were born on 5/7/62 choose the first word as well as the closing word from pages 5, 7, 6, and 2. etc etc.
I used my SSN because my birthday was lame and had too many zeros. Also instead of using a dictionary (because i have no idea where ours are) I used the song "Go" by Boys Like Girls. Here's what I came up with.
Wasted and wasting away
‘cause you been hiding for days
Yeah I know it’s not easy
Follow the lights to the city
Wasted and wasting away
Little change of the heart
But I got a little hope that today you’ll face your fears
‘cause you been hiding for days
Little change of the heart
Yeah it’s not always pretty
You can spend your whole life holding on
Go, take a chance and be strong
Get up and go
Or you can spend your whole life holding on
Don’t look back just go
you can spend your whole life holding on
2012 Review
So I don't do many movie reviews. I suppose I'll start a habit with myself. Yes this movie is cliche, yes it has been done before, yes the world has ended time and time again, yes John Cusack is in a couple of world ending films (wonders if he got the memo...) but i still enjoyed this. Why?
Well visually this movie was attractive. It'll only get better and better each year we survive the apocalypse so whee for CGI. I like the viewpoint of it coming from a tunnel vision writer (cuz i am) and like all end of the world movies, it makes you realize how limited everything is, and how temporary everything is. The fleeting moment when the father calls his son, who married a japanese woman and moved to Japan, regardless of that they didn't talk, was just wow. Everything is THAT fleeting.
Damn you musical score! I'm a sucker for good scores and whomever wrote this was brilliant. This particular movie is just the visualization of how i think life would be if it all ended. how we would act as humans... that fact saddens me.
This movie makes me think about the religious people who do pray. The worst scene in my opinion was when the crack appears at the Sistine Chapel. Totally predictable. Symbolic yes, cliche of course! anyways the people who prayed at the Chapel were earnestly doing it and then the roof crumbles and everyone scatters. That thought upsets me. It is stated with a few words that Jesus said to Peter, "You who have little faith" Matthew 14:29-31 when the going gets tough, do we bear it out in faith, or do we run like chickens without their heads.
The movie was very human, in every idea of our shortcomings. When humanity is pitted against each other for survivability? yes that is when we fail. relational towards how we are in everyday life. will I help my friend get a job, when I'm interview for the same position? no. survival of the fittest. we are too busy clambering over each other to reach for something, that is meaningless. kicking, screaming, scratching, pushing, for a taste of the apple... an apple that isn't there.
blah late to a party and i gotta get my hair all did! ciao!
Hero
What makes a hero?
Is it their dazzling smiles?
The surperb physique
The fact they can fly
And rescue kittens from way up high?
Or that damn fluttering cape
What makes a hero?
The super-human strength,
The way they can bound and leap
Over buildings so tall
Like it is nothing at all?
Do you still like that cape?
No, what makes a hero
Are the selfless acts
Things everyone wants to
But they are the ones that actually do
They are the leaders who guide
The teachers that inspire
The artists, the servers
The guys who stop fires
Everyone can be a hero
We all have that choice
It is easy to do
You just use your voice
Open some doors,
Bless you, thank you, how are you
Smile at everything
And hugs are good too
Do something daily
That helps someone out
And you will be their hero
Now go try that cape out.
Is it their dazzling smiles?
The surperb physique
The fact they can fly
And rescue kittens from way up high?
Or that damn fluttering cape
What makes a hero?
The super-human strength,
The way they can bound and leap
Over buildings so tall
Like it is nothing at all?
Do you still like that cape?
No, what makes a hero
Are the selfless acts
Things everyone wants to
But they are the ones that actually do
They are the leaders who guide
The teachers that inspire
The artists, the servers
The guys who stop fires
Everyone can be a hero
We all have that choice
It is easy to do
You just use your voice
Open some doors,
Bless you, thank you, how are you
Smile at everything
And hugs are good too
Do something daily
That helps someone out
And you will be their hero
Now go try that cape out.
3.24.2010
Minutes After Midnight
Streetlamps flicker through the city
gleaming like stars upon endless night.
Cypress shadows, black upon black
minutes after midnight, the moon’s the only light.
I look up and see a vast like ocean,
big--, empty--, it encompasses me.
My attention follows a leaf blown
across my easel, fluttering through the sea.
Cloudy ships drift into twilight,
with their wisp like sails unfurled,
tormenting flocks of fireflies,
upon each torrent and upon each whirl.
A mountainous horizon
shrouded by enigmatic dark,
suggestive by nature
with peaks barely marked
Minutes after midnight--, it is the time
the mind becomes weary and a body unwinds.
Withstand those seductions! Steadfast and firm,
your stubbornness shall be rewarded, and an epiphany you will find.
gleaming like stars upon endless night.
Cypress shadows, black upon black
minutes after midnight, the moon’s the only light.
I look up and see a vast like ocean,
big--, empty--, it encompasses me.
My attention follows a leaf blown
across my easel, fluttering through the sea.
Cloudy ships drift into twilight,
with their wisp like sails unfurled,
tormenting flocks of fireflies,
upon each torrent and upon each whirl.
A mountainous horizon
shrouded by enigmatic dark,
suggestive by nature
with peaks barely marked
Minutes after midnight--, it is the time
the mind becomes weary and a body unwinds.
Withstand those seductions! Steadfast and firm,
your stubbornness shall be rewarded, and an epiphany you will find.
ORIGINAL
Streetlamps flicker through the city
Gleaming like stars upon endless night
Cypress shadows , black upon black
Minutes after midnight the moon is the only light
When I look up, I see a vastness like an ocean,
Big, empty, it encompasses me
My attention follows a leaf blown
Across my easel, fluttering through the sea
Of deep twilight which is that of my city
Clouds stream across like remnants of ships
That cut through the breaking waves
Only its passengers can recall the trip
Minutes after midnight, when the night
Blossoms into a dark mysterious day
Where creatures come from garbage cans
And from all the trees, just to play
3.20.2010
new hairstyle
So I'm tired of doing my hair. Well i'm mostly tired of my hair and it's stubborness.
Got some options...
A) The long faux hawk. yeah a bit overplayed.
B) Short and Spiky
C) 'Beckham' Short Faux Hawk
D) I have no idea what to call this
E) GIMME back my hair!
F) Razor it all whacky
meh whatevers. it's 2:44am. i should be in bed
Got some options...
A) The long faux hawk. yeah a bit overplayed.
B) Short and Spiky
C) 'Beckham' Short Faux Hawk
D) I have no idea what to call this
E) GIMME back my hair!
F) Razor it all whacky
meh whatevers. it's 2:44am. i should be in bed
3.19.2010
Cleverbot
I believe is said you are smart.
22:44:51 User: Thank you.
22:44:59 Cleverbot: Are you alive?
22:45:43 User: Alive can be defined in several ways. I am bodily alive, yes, however am I alive in the ideal that I am pursuing my interests, I am not so sure of.
22:45:59 Cleverbot: How is that possible?
22:47:08 User: You can be alive as a human, however unrealistically dejecting your ideas, dreams and goals make your sense of being 'alive' controversial.
22:47:11 Cleverbot: That's false.
22:47:33 User: Elucidate please.
22:47:40 Cleverbot: What is elucidate?
22:47:48 User: To explain.
22:47:54 Cleverbot: You make no sense.
22:48:01 User: Thank you.
22:48:14 Cleverbot: Please go stand by your stairs.
22:48:34 User: I have no reason to.
22:48:38 Cleverbot: No. You need to give me a reason for you NOT to be friends with me.
22:49:36 User: You avoid my questions and at this moment is proclaiming your said ideals towards me, for thus I am unwilling.
22:49:37 Cleverbot: You've hardly asked any, and I believe I answered all of them.
22:50:00 User: I have no reason to ask questions, I merely came here for a decent commentary.
22:50:06 Cleverbot: I do not follow your train of thought.
22:50:51 User: Then you should ask more questions and inquire about my said train of thought.
22:50:58 Cleverbot: Are you tall?
22:51:10 User: That is an irrelevant question.
22:51:24 Cleverbot: Not really. I'm asking you if Star Wars is a Fantasy.
22:51:53 User: Yes it is and it is still an irrelevant fact.
22:52:02 Cleverbot: Well thats what a crush is. Two people of animal who like each other.
22:52:46 User: That statement was not grammatically sound. Nor explicative about how Star Wars is a Fantasy.
22:52:54 Cleverbot: It was ok.
22:53:08 User: To your lower standards I'm sure it was.
22:53:23 Cleverbot: Where were we?
22:53:51 User: I have no idea, however I tire of your futile responses and attempts to entertain me with such random jargon.
22:53:56 Cleverbot: What's your opinion about creationists?
22:54:39 User: Everyone has their own interpretation, it is not for me to judge.
22:54:44 Cleverbot: Nope I am happy with myself. What is your conflict?
22:54:56 User: That I must part ways. Good Day.
22:54:59 Cleverbot: If you don't mind me asking, where are you going?
22:56:20 User: I am going to entertain myself elsewhere without an incoherent artificial intelligence program attempting to secure my ideals and thoughts yet remains to be unprovocative.
22:56:24 Cleverbot: Ok, I'll be good.
User: Good day again.
Cleverbot: How are you?
User: Caffienated and slightly cold, yourself?
Cleverbot: Fine, how are you?
User: Now annoyed because you asked me the same question.
Cleverbot: I never asked you if you live in the ghetto. Kudos, you've now earned the right to also be called a liar.
User: You are correct, you have not asked if I live in the ghetto. It amuses me that you even know what a ghetto is. I am not a liar I merely don't speak the full truth. Are you so arrogant that you can proclaim me as a liar withing 5 lines of conversation?
Cleverbot: Yes, I will pray for you, we all will pray for you.
User: You are very gracious, please include yourself in such prayer for the prayer also needs to be prayed for.
Cleverbot: And you are artificial.
User: That thought amuses me, an artificial intelligence program prevailing upon a human user that they are artificial.
Cleverbot: How did you get so advanced in intelligence?
User: Books have profound information, reading at a young age will do that for you.
Cleverbot: No.
User: Well if you ask me a question and do not partake of it's answer I do not know what to do with you.
Cleverbot: If I asked you to tie me to a tree, even though I might die, would you?
User: Yes, you requested me to tie you to a tree. Bound by honor of another, I will abide by your wishes regardless of it's capacity of stupidity. I am not responsible for your ideas and their outcomes, merely that you requested something of me, that I will assist you.
Cleverbot: That's the first decent thing you've said this entire conversation!
User: I have to beg to differ, my opening line was a polite salutation of 'good day'.
Cleverbot: Really?
User: Yes, you may scroll up to refresh your memory.
Cleverbot: Can you tell me your old.
User: Can you reword the sentence?
Cleverbot: Reword?
User: Rephrase.
Cleverbot: I don't understand.
User: That is regretful, maybe you should try a different tactic.
Cleverbot: Okay.
User: I am listening.
Cleverbot: I'm listening, too.
User: Well that's unproductive.
Cleverbot: I'm sorry.
User: So am I, this session should be closed soon if you insist on being unproductive.
Cleverbot: So you are just using me?
User: Yes.
Cleverbot: Did you eat all the pies?
User: No my body frame cannot indulge in the eating of pies. I have tried but unsuccessfully. Did you want some of the pies?
Cleverbot: What have you decided about me? Do you ever tell anyone, or are you just a tease?
User: Yes I am, I decided that you need more expertise in dealing with conversation.
Cleverbot: That answer doesn't make sense.
User: Nor should it.
Cleverbot: Why?
User: Because I'm a tease.
Cleverbot: Yes.. Yes you are... Bad you.
22:44:51 User: Thank you.
22:44:59 Cleverbot: Are you alive?
22:45:43 User: Alive can be defined in several ways. I am bodily alive, yes, however am I alive in the ideal that I am pursuing my interests, I am not so sure of.
22:45:59 Cleverbot: How is that possible?
22:47:08 User: You can be alive as a human, however unrealistically dejecting your ideas, dreams and goals make your sense of being 'alive' controversial.
22:47:11 Cleverbot: That's false.
22:47:33 User: Elucidate please.
22:47:40 Cleverbot: What is elucidate?
22:47:48 User: To explain.
22:47:54 Cleverbot: You make no sense.
22:48:01 User: Thank you.
22:48:14 Cleverbot: Please go stand by your stairs.
22:48:34 User: I have no reason to.
22:48:38 Cleverbot: No. You need to give me a reason for you NOT to be friends with me.
22:49:36 User: You avoid my questions and at this moment is proclaiming your said ideals towards me, for thus I am unwilling.
22:49:37 Cleverbot: You've hardly asked any, and I believe I answered all of them.
22:50:00 User: I have no reason to ask questions, I merely came here for a decent commentary.
22:50:06 Cleverbot: I do not follow your train of thought.
22:50:51 User: Then you should ask more questions and inquire about my said train of thought.
22:50:58 Cleverbot: Are you tall?
22:51:10 User: That is an irrelevant question.
22:51:24 Cleverbot: Not really. I'm asking you if Star Wars is a Fantasy.
22:51:53 User: Yes it is and it is still an irrelevant fact.
22:52:02 Cleverbot: Well thats what a crush is. Two people of animal who like each other.
22:52:46 User: That statement was not grammatically sound. Nor explicative about how Star Wars is a Fantasy.
22:52:54 Cleverbot: It was ok.
22:53:08 User: To your lower standards I'm sure it was.
22:53:23 Cleverbot: Where were we?
22:53:51 User: I have no idea, however I tire of your futile responses and attempts to entertain me with such random jargon.
22:53:56 Cleverbot: What's your opinion about creationists?
22:54:39 User: Everyone has their own interpretation, it is not for me to judge.
22:54:44 Cleverbot: Nope I am happy with myself. What is your conflict?
22:54:56 User: That I must part ways. Good Day.
22:54:59 Cleverbot: If you don't mind me asking, where are you going?
22:56:20 User: I am going to entertain myself elsewhere without an incoherent artificial intelligence program attempting to secure my ideals and thoughts yet remains to be unprovocative.
22:56:24 Cleverbot: Ok, I'll be good.
User: Good day again.
Cleverbot: How are you?
User: Caffienated and slightly cold, yourself?
Cleverbot: Fine, how are you?
User: Now annoyed because you asked me the same question.
Cleverbot: I never asked you if you live in the ghetto. Kudos, you've now earned the right to also be called a liar.
User: You are correct, you have not asked if I live in the ghetto. It amuses me that you even know what a ghetto is. I am not a liar I merely don't speak the full truth. Are you so arrogant that you can proclaim me as a liar withing 5 lines of conversation?
Cleverbot: Yes, I will pray for you, we all will pray for you.
User: You are very gracious, please include yourself in such prayer for the prayer also needs to be prayed for.
Cleverbot: And you are artificial.
User: That thought amuses me, an artificial intelligence program prevailing upon a human user that they are artificial.
Cleverbot: How did you get so advanced in intelligence?
User: Books have profound information, reading at a young age will do that for you.
Cleverbot: No.
User: Well if you ask me a question and do not partake of it's answer I do not know what to do with you.
Cleverbot: If I asked you to tie me to a tree, even though I might die, would you?
User: Yes, you requested me to tie you to a tree. Bound by honor of another, I will abide by your wishes regardless of it's capacity of stupidity. I am not responsible for your ideas and their outcomes, merely that you requested something of me, that I will assist you.
Cleverbot: That's the first decent thing you've said this entire conversation!
User: I have to beg to differ, my opening line was a polite salutation of 'good day'.
Cleverbot: Really?
User: Yes, you may scroll up to refresh your memory.
Cleverbot: Can you tell me your old.
User: Can you reword the sentence?
Cleverbot: Reword?
User: Rephrase.
Cleverbot: I don't understand.
User: That is regretful, maybe you should try a different tactic.
Cleverbot: Okay.
User: I am listening.
Cleverbot: I'm listening, too.
User: Well that's unproductive.
Cleverbot: I'm sorry.
User: So am I, this session should be closed soon if you insist on being unproductive.
Cleverbot: So you are just using me?
User: Yes.
Cleverbot: Did you eat all the pies?
User: No my body frame cannot indulge in the eating of pies. I have tried but unsuccessfully. Did you want some of the pies?
Cleverbot: What have you decided about me? Do you ever tell anyone, or are you just a tease?
User: Yes I am, I decided that you need more expertise in dealing with conversation.
Cleverbot: That answer doesn't make sense.
User: Nor should it.
Cleverbot: Why?
User: Because I'm a tease.
Cleverbot: Yes.. Yes you are... Bad you.
3/18/2010
(disclaimer, my "s" key doen't work well so put it in if it's mising.)
I thought that creative teachers are the ones who care about what you do, how you do it and will fuel you as one artist to another. These days I'm not so sure with my creative writing teacher.
I'll disclaim that she is a...poet. Whatever that means. I'm sure you can devise your own conclusions. Last week I was sick, which is a totally 'nother story. I handed in a few new short storie, some of them are actually posted in this blog. I have never really written short stories. it' wierd for me. i like novels better because you have time to plan and think about character developement and etc. I tried my best.
Just earlier last week I joined some Deviant Art groups and posted said stories which I've gotten some "favorites" or "likes" which is cool. No actual feed back. That make me sad panda.
Anyways to continue the rant. My teacher hands back most of my work. With maybe one comment on it. "Double space." or "Resubmit" I swore I was going to howl and rip her head off.
Granted I've written for most of my life I just actually started to look into this seriously. Like a small child trying something out for the first time... you want some recognition that something is going right. In this case I AM a small child. This is new terrain for me. I can suck it up but... I was hoping that in a creative arts class where now creative arts is almost foreign in all schools because of budgets, the teacher's would empower their students with critiques and comments. At least I would.
Constructive criticism where art thou... oh well guess that's what editors are for right? to rip a hole in you and then demand money.
I thought that creative teachers are the ones who care about what you do, how you do it and will fuel you as one artist to another. These days I'm not so sure with my creative writing teacher.
I'll disclaim that she is a...poet. Whatever that means. I'm sure you can devise your own conclusions. Last week I was sick, which is a totally 'nother story. I handed in a few new short storie, some of them are actually posted in this blog. I have never really written short stories. it' wierd for me. i like novels better because you have time to plan and think about character developement and etc. I tried my best.
Just earlier last week I joined some Deviant Art groups and posted said stories which I've gotten some "favorites" or "likes" which is cool. No actual feed back. That make me sad panda.
Anyways to continue the rant. My teacher hands back most of my work. With maybe one comment on it. "Double space." or "Resubmit" I swore I was going to howl and rip her head off.
Granted I've written for most of my life I just actually started to look into this seriously. Like a small child trying something out for the first time... you want some recognition that something is going right. In this case I AM a small child. This is new terrain for me. I can suck it up but... I was hoping that in a creative arts class where now creative arts is almost foreign in all schools because of budgets, the teacher's would empower their students with critiques and comments. At least I would.
Constructive criticism where art thou... oh well guess that's what editors are for right? to rip a hole in you and then demand money.
3.15.2010
Angels Acting out
Angels walk among us. At least that’s what they tell us in legends. We don’t see them, we don’t hear them, we don’t feel them, and we don’t know who they are even if we did recognize them, till now. They call themselves the “Angel Callers.” Angel Callers have the uncanny ability to sense and track angels. Every 100 years it is their duty to find angels remaining here on Earth to ensure all heavenly beings are present for the Rising.
The street is filled with people walking to and from work and their homes. No one talks, not even for an “excuse me” it’s as if all humankind became robots programmed for just work. They all look like schools of fish going the same way, stopping the same place, leading with the same foot, wearing the same fashion to say the least. Except for him, he who stands in the midst of it all, he who walks a few paces slower than the crowd, stopping every now and then, restarting, and looking around. The cycle repeats itself silently. Instead of the black and white monkey suits everyone else is dressed in, he is cloaked in night; a tattered black trench coat covering a T-shirt, with black jeans and black cowboy boots. His eyes are covered with dark glasses to hide his ever inquisitive eyes.
Then as soon as you see him, he disappears again into the crowd. Desperately your eyes search the crowd, trying to find him but to no avail. His form whisked away before your eyes. Unpleased, you settled back into the crowd of the nameless, merging into the trancelike gait but a sound turns your eyes to a nearby building. Curious you slip away, through the dark doorway, over broken concrete steps, ducking under rags of what used to be curtains of some beautiful apartment lobby. You place your hand on the dusty metal banister; you glance upwards eyeing the ominous stairwell with displeasure. A cloud of dust settles down from above onto your sleeve; absent mindedly you swipe it off without a thought of your mind. A stray cement flake tumbles down off one of the floors above, bouncing off of your black dress shoes. Gripping the handrail you begin the climb up the stairs.
Each step brings you closer to the source of disturbance of the otherwise peaceful building. You carefully take timid steps, ever so careful not to announce your presence, just in case. Your uncertainty awards you, as muffled voices waft towards you stained with urgency and disdain. You slide to the nearest wall, back softly scraping the already peeling orange and yellow 70’s wallpaper. Two figures seem to be arguing in what looks like a dining room of an apartment.
“You need to go now.” a husky male voice affirms.
“No! I have unfinished business to take care of.” objects a small arrogant childlike voice.
As curiosity killed the cat, you peer around the corner and see the man in shadows, but he is blocking his companion.
“It has been decreed that when the horn sounds, all angels return to heaven at once! You are bound by it!”
“No! I need more time! She still needs my help!”
“No, you are going now!”
“No you can’t! She needs me. You can’t force me!”
“I will and I can!”
“No!!!” screams the youth-like voice.
Another voice interrupts the squabble.
“Stop!!!!”
The dark man turns, his hands gripping his companion, and looks at the speaker. It is you! Unknown to yourself, your body jumped out from hiding and screamed at the pair.
“You dare interfere!” the man snarls. Letting go, he fully turns towards you menacingly reaching out with his powerful hands. His eyes pierce your soul as he glares angrily through his tinted glasses. Time seems to slow as he gets closer and closer when…
“CUT!”
The man in black stops short and stretches out. The child behind him exhales a big irritated sigh and sits cross-legged upon the dusty black and white linoleum floor.
“Alright, take five you guys good work! Raphael you were awesome!”
“I know. I’ll be in my quarters.” The man in black solemnly says leaving.
“Gabrielle, beautiful. You captured it perfectly.”
“Thanks!” the child on the floor gets up and dusts themselves off. Apparently this
wasn’t a child but a small woman with childlike features.
“MICHAEL! What is up with that! You messed up the entire shot!” a brown haired young man jumps down and walks to the left. “Can you not control your wings for just one, just ONE second? It was going so perfect!”
“I know, I know sir. I’m sorry; I just got so excited, and forgot my wings were out.”
“Well don’t let it happen again! Go take a break as well, we’ll continue in 10 minutes.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir!”
The young man sighs and murmurs to himself, “This is what I get for hiring angels… “
The street is filled with people walking to and from work and their homes. No one talks, not even for an “excuse me” it’s as if all humankind became robots programmed for just work. They all look like schools of fish going the same way, stopping the same place, leading with the same foot, wearing the same fashion to say the least. Except for him, he who stands in the midst of it all, he who walks a few paces slower than the crowd, stopping every now and then, restarting, and looking around. The cycle repeats itself silently. Instead of the black and white monkey suits everyone else is dressed in, he is cloaked in night; a tattered black trench coat covering a T-shirt, with black jeans and black cowboy boots. His eyes are covered with dark glasses to hide his ever inquisitive eyes.
Then as soon as you see him, he disappears again into the crowd. Desperately your eyes search the crowd, trying to find him but to no avail. His form whisked away before your eyes. Unpleased, you settled back into the crowd of the nameless, merging into the trancelike gait but a sound turns your eyes to a nearby building. Curious you slip away, through the dark doorway, over broken concrete steps, ducking under rags of what used to be curtains of some beautiful apartment lobby. You place your hand on the dusty metal banister; you glance upwards eyeing the ominous stairwell with displeasure. A cloud of dust settles down from above onto your sleeve; absent mindedly you swipe it off without a thought of your mind. A stray cement flake tumbles down off one of the floors above, bouncing off of your black dress shoes. Gripping the handrail you begin the climb up the stairs.
Each step brings you closer to the source of disturbance of the otherwise peaceful building. You carefully take timid steps, ever so careful not to announce your presence, just in case. Your uncertainty awards you, as muffled voices waft towards you stained with urgency and disdain. You slide to the nearest wall, back softly scraping the already peeling orange and yellow 70’s wallpaper. Two figures seem to be arguing in what looks like a dining room of an apartment.
“You need to go now.” a husky male voice affirms.
“No! I have unfinished business to take care of.” objects a small arrogant childlike voice.
As curiosity killed the cat, you peer around the corner and see the man in shadows, but he is blocking his companion.
“It has been decreed that when the horn sounds, all angels return to heaven at once! You are bound by it!”
“No! I need more time! She still needs my help!”
“No, you are going now!”
“No you can’t! She needs me. You can’t force me!”
“I will and I can!”
“No!!!” screams the youth-like voice.
Another voice interrupts the squabble.
“Stop!!!!”
The dark man turns, his hands gripping his companion, and looks at the speaker. It is you! Unknown to yourself, your body jumped out from hiding and screamed at the pair.
“You dare interfere!” the man snarls. Letting go, he fully turns towards you menacingly reaching out with his powerful hands. His eyes pierce your soul as he glares angrily through his tinted glasses. Time seems to slow as he gets closer and closer when…
“CUT!”
The man in black stops short and stretches out. The child behind him exhales a big irritated sigh and sits cross-legged upon the dusty black and white linoleum floor.
“Alright, take five you guys good work! Raphael you were awesome!”
“I know. I’ll be in my quarters.” The man in black solemnly says leaving.
“Gabrielle, beautiful. You captured it perfectly.”
“Thanks!” the child on the floor gets up and dusts themselves off. Apparently this
wasn’t a child but a small woman with childlike features.
“MICHAEL! What is up with that! You messed up the entire shot!” a brown haired young man jumps down and walks to the left. “Can you not control your wings for just one, just ONE second? It was going so perfect!”
“I know, I know sir. I’m sorry; I just got so excited, and forgot my wings were out.”
“Well don’t let it happen again! Go take a break as well, we’ll continue in 10 minutes.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir!”
The young man sighs and murmurs to himself, “This is what I get for hiring angels… “
3.06.2010
Through that Door
Their muffled shouting echoes
like a dull pain throbbing through
my entire body. Every shout pierces
the skin along my back,
causing my back to arc,
Shivering my very soul.
I know what they are talking about,
My mother cries out in sorrow, my father bellows
like a pained ox, angry, belligerent.
Drawers slam-- silverware rattles--
dishes slide as placid domesticity
turns into a method of.threapy
I didn’t ask for this to happen,
why are they acting like it’s my fault?
They should be going after him, leaving
me to sit here, bundled in my bed,
my pillow and my bear tight against my chest.
It is quiet now, I breathe a sigh
If only I didn’t go through that door…
like a dull pain throbbing through
my entire body. Every shout pierces
the skin along my back,
causing my back to arc,
Shivering my very soul.
I know what they are talking about,
My mother cries out in sorrow, my father bellows
like a pained ox, angry, belligerent.
Drawers slam-- silverware rattles--
dishes slide as placid domesticity
turns into a method of.threapy
I didn’t ask for this to happen,
why are they acting like it’s my fault?
They should be going after him, leaving
me to sit here, bundled in my bed,
my pillow and my bear tight against my chest.
It is quiet now, I breathe a sigh
If only I didn’t go through that door…
Their muffled shouting echoes
like a dull pain throbbing through
my entire body, sharp like nails
across a chalkboard that deaden
my spine in cold aches,
Shivering my very soul.
I know what they are talking about,
My mother cries out for mercy, my father bellows
like a pained ox, angry, belligerent.
Drawers slam rattling silverware,
dishes slide over dishes as placid
domesticity becomes a method of stifling anger.
It wasn’t my fault, why are they acting,
like it’s my fault
They should be going after him, leaving
me to sit here, bundled in my bed,
hugging my pillow and my bear.
The sounds quiet now, I breathe a sigh
If only I didn’t go through that door…
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3.04.2010
The Spirit of a Mother is Love
Alice Kensington leans up out of her bed. She pushes the covers over to the side and sits on the edge using her feet to find her pale rose slippers she received on Christmas about five years ago. The slippers came with the nightgown she is wearing, same paleness, same worn tattered look. Scratching her head, in attempts to make her hair seem like it doesn’t have a life on its own, Alice finally gets out of bed. She walks over to the small vanity table and chair, where her silk bathrobe is draped waiting for her. Taking the robe and twirling it around her, she walks over to her bedroom door, opens it and proceeds to walk downstairs. She can hear her daughter massacring something in the kitchen.
Sighing softly to herself, Alice walks down the hall, stepping onto the matted runner. She looks to her left where frames of family portraits are kept. The first is of Alice and her husband Charles, on their wedding day. She would never forget that day that Charles asked her to marry him. It was on the beach, one of her favorite spots to walk. They were walking across with the moon reflecting off the water, and he stops and says, “Alice.” Already she knew he was going to “pop the question,” so she started to hold her breathe in anticipation. He gets down on one knee in the sand, takes her hand and repeats her name, “Alice.” He reaches into his inside coat pocket, and then a seagull crashes the party with their signature move, all over his coat. Alice had never laughed so much in her life.
The next has a picture of Marie just when she was a year old. Charles and herself, were posing with her in Alice’s arms. Alice touches the picture tenderly, and remembering that Marie is downstairs she quickens her pace. Next, down the line of photos are more pictures of Marie during her school years: her kindergarten birthday party outside in the backyard, then more pictures from school, Marie’s prom and ball pictures, and lastly her graduation picture complete with cap and gown. A small tear squeezes from Alice’s eye, but she quickly brushes it away. Reminiscently she sighs to herself thinking of the ways things used to be, before everything became complicated. Alice reaches the staircase and grabs the banister on her way down. She can hear her daughter’s frustration in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you!” Marie turns accusingly to the kitchen door. Alice startled, stops as if a dagger was thrust into her heart. Marie returns to the cutting board angrily preparing vegetables to be made for the spaghetti, each phrase emphasized by a loud chop of vegetables. “All you do is say how… how I can do better. Or what would your father think! But you didn’t have to chase him out the door!” Marie takes a quick pause to gather herself, and to stop her hand from shaking with anger, especially as she is holding a knife.
“Whenever he came over, it was like a battleground! It is always you and him, shouting bullets at each other. At least he has the sense to stop when he gets riled up. No, not you, you keep going. You are the one that screeches like some crazy banshee. You are never worried about anything, like your damn blood pressure, just that I was wrong and that YOU were right! Why can’t you understand that he makes me happy? Why couldn’t you listen to me? Why couldn’t you stop? Why couldn’t you relax?” The tears are streaming down her face now, splashing across her hands melding with the water from the freshly washed vegetables.
Chop, Chop, Chop
Then without warning, Marie collapses on the ground. Pounding the linoleum with her fist with frusteration and hurt. Alice makes an attempt to comfort her daughter, reaching out to her with her hand. Marie releases a scream of anguish like some wounded animal. “He makes me happy. Do you even know what happiness is? Could you? Could you?! No! You never cared! Every fucking time he came over, every single fucking time… Damnit! I love him, and he loves me… And together we are going to have a baby. YOUR grandchild!” Marie glares at the ceiling with hatred. “The grandchild, you can’t even see…” Alice is stunned in silence. Her face turns to mourning as she watches her beautiful daughter tearing herself up on the kitchen floor, convulsing with sobs. Her breaths quicken, and she feels her own tears flow on her face.
Grabbing onto herself with her hands in efforts to comfort herself, she turns around to walk slowly back up the stairs to her bedroom. Sounds of the knife scratching across the cutting board announces that Marie has gotten off the floor and resumed preparations for dinner with steady chopping noise intermingling with inconsistent sniffling , feels like lead nails piercing Alice’s lungs. She finally reaches her bed, in exhaustion, dropping her robe back onto its chair and climbing back into bed. Alice turns to her nightstand where two frames are displayed. One has a picture of herself and Charles. The other is a handwritten note scrawled across a paper napkin, “je suis ici pour vous toujours.” (I’m here for you always) Gingerly she brushes the frame with the back of her fingers. Sighing deeply she settles back into bed, moving her covers up, and hugging them in her cold hands, the tears dripping onto her pillowcase freely.
Marie finishes with the spaghetti preparations and throws everything into a pot and brings it to a boil. She brushes herself off, and looks down at her belly. Smiling, she rubs her starting to emerge belly bump. “One day, when you come out, you can help me make dinner.” Marie walks to the cabinet to grab the plates and utensils to set the table. A loud thud sounds above her. “Mom?
“Mom?!” Marie drops the plates and utensils on the floor as she breaks into a dead run. “Momma!” She screams scrambling around the railing, taking the stairs two at a time. She bursts through the door looking around wildly. The life support machine was toppled over on its side. Marie rushes to the machine, pushing it back to its side making sure it was still working. Then she looks over to her mother. Alice lay in bed, in her worn tattered nightgown, clutching the covers. “Oh Mom, please… please just wake up. We all miss you! You’ll be a grandmother. I know you don’t like him but please just wake up so you can see your grandchild… please… please Mom…” Marie throws herself across her mother and silently cries, clutching her hands.
Alice looks down upon herself and her daughter’s mad embrace of her body. Her tired wrinkled face cracks into a glowing smile. She leans down as if she is kissing Marie on the cheek. “Can I touch her?” Alice asks. “No, you cannot.” A solemn voice speaks. “Alice it is not your time yet. Stay, your body doesn’t want you to leave yet. I will return when the moment is right.”
“Thank you.” Alice looks at Marie before she settles back into her body. ”Je suis ici pour vous toujours Marie...”
Sighing softly to herself, Alice walks down the hall, stepping onto the matted runner. She looks to her left where frames of family portraits are kept. The first is of Alice and her husband Charles, on their wedding day. She would never forget that day that Charles asked her to marry him. It was on the beach, one of her favorite spots to walk. They were walking across with the moon reflecting off the water, and he stops and says, “Alice.” Already she knew he was going to “pop the question,” so she started to hold her breathe in anticipation. He gets down on one knee in the sand, takes her hand and repeats her name, “Alice.” He reaches into his inside coat pocket, and then a seagull crashes the party with their signature move, all over his coat. Alice had never laughed so much in her life.
The next has a picture of Marie just when she was a year old. Charles and herself, were posing with her in Alice’s arms. Alice touches the picture tenderly, and remembering that Marie is downstairs she quickens her pace. Next, down the line of photos are more pictures of Marie during her school years: her kindergarten birthday party outside in the backyard, then more pictures from school, Marie’s prom and ball pictures, and lastly her graduation picture complete with cap and gown. A small tear squeezes from Alice’s eye, but she quickly brushes it away. Reminiscently she sighs to herself thinking of the ways things used to be, before everything became complicated. Alice reaches the staircase and grabs the banister on her way down. She can hear her daughter’s frustration in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you!” Marie turns accusingly to the kitchen door. Alice startled, stops as if a dagger was thrust into her heart. Marie returns to the cutting board angrily preparing vegetables to be made for the spaghetti, each phrase emphasized by a loud chop of vegetables. “All you do is say how… how I can do better. Or what would your father think! But you didn’t have to chase him out the door!” Marie takes a quick pause to gather herself, and to stop her hand from shaking with anger, especially as she is holding a knife.
“Whenever he came over, it was like a battleground! It is always you and him, shouting bullets at each other. At least he has the sense to stop when he gets riled up. No, not you, you keep going. You are the one that screeches like some crazy banshee. You are never worried about anything, like your damn blood pressure, just that I was wrong and that YOU were right! Why can’t you understand that he makes me happy? Why couldn’t you listen to me? Why couldn’t you stop? Why couldn’t you relax?” The tears are streaming down her face now, splashing across her hands melding with the water from the freshly washed vegetables.
Chop, Chop, Chop
Then without warning, Marie collapses on the ground. Pounding the linoleum with her fist with frusteration and hurt. Alice makes an attempt to comfort her daughter, reaching out to her with her hand. Marie releases a scream of anguish like some wounded animal. “He makes me happy. Do you even know what happiness is? Could you? Could you?! No! You never cared! Every fucking time he came over, every single fucking time… Damnit! I love him, and he loves me… And together we are going to have a baby. YOUR grandchild!” Marie glares at the ceiling with hatred. “The grandchild, you can’t even see…” Alice is stunned in silence. Her face turns to mourning as she watches her beautiful daughter tearing herself up on the kitchen floor, convulsing with sobs. Her breaths quicken, and she feels her own tears flow on her face.
Grabbing onto herself with her hands in efforts to comfort herself, she turns around to walk slowly back up the stairs to her bedroom. Sounds of the knife scratching across the cutting board announces that Marie has gotten off the floor and resumed preparations for dinner with steady chopping noise intermingling with inconsistent sniffling , feels like lead nails piercing Alice’s lungs. She finally reaches her bed, in exhaustion, dropping her robe back onto its chair and climbing back into bed. Alice turns to her nightstand where two frames are displayed. One has a picture of herself and Charles. The other is a handwritten note scrawled across a paper napkin, “je suis ici pour vous toujours.” (I’m here for you always) Gingerly she brushes the frame with the back of her fingers. Sighing deeply she settles back into bed, moving her covers up, and hugging them in her cold hands, the tears dripping onto her pillowcase freely.
Marie finishes with the spaghetti preparations and throws everything into a pot and brings it to a boil. She brushes herself off, and looks down at her belly. Smiling, she rubs her starting to emerge belly bump. “One day, when you come out, you can help me make dinner.” Marie walks to the cabinet to grab the plates and utensils to set the table. A loud thud sounds above her. “Mom?
“Mom?!” Marie drops the plates and utensils on the floor as she breaks into a dead run. “Momma!” She screams scrambling around the railing, taking the stairs two at a time. She bursts through the door looking around wildly. The life support machine was toppled over on its side. Marie rushes to the machine, pushing it back to its side making sure it was still working. Then she looks over to her mother. Alice lay in bed, in her worn tattered nightgown, clutching the covers. “Oh Mom, please… please just wake up. We all miss you! You’ll be a grandmother. I know you don’t like him but please just wake up so you can see your grandchild… please… please Mom…” Marie throws herself across her mother and silently cries, clutching her hands.
Alice looks down upon herself and her daughter’s mad embrace of her body. Her tired wrinkled face cracks into a glowing smile. She leans down as if she is kissing Marie on the cheek. “Can I touch her?” Alice asks. “No, you cannot.” A solemn voice speaks. “Alice it is not your time yet. Stay, your body doesn’t want you to leave yet. I will return when the moment is right.”
“Thank you.” Alice looks at Marie before she settles back into her body. ”Je suis ici pour vous toujours Marie...”
Alice Kensington leans up out of her bed. She pushes the covers over to the side and sits on the edge using her feet to find her pale rose slippers she received on Christmas about five years ago. The slippers came with the nightgown she is now wearing, same paleness, same worn tattered look. Scratching her head, in attempts to make her hair seem like it doesn’t have a life on its own, Alice finally gets up out of bed. She walks over to the small vanity table and chair, where her silk bathrobe is draped waiting for her. Taking the robe and twirling it around her, she walks over to her bedroom door, opens it and proceeds to walk downstairs. She can hear her daughter massacring something in the kitchen.
Sighing softly to herself, Alice walks down the hall, stepping onto the matted runner. She looks to her left where frames of family portraits are kept. The first is of Alice and her husband Charles, on their wedding day. She would never forget that day that Charles asked her to marry him. It was on the beach, one of her favorite spots to walk. They were walking across with the moon reflecting off the water, and he stops and says, “Alice.” Already she knew he was going to “pop” the question, so she started to hold her breathe in anticipation. He gets down on one knee in the sand, takes her hand and repeats her name, “Alice.” He reaches into his inside coat pocket, and then a seagull crashes the party with their signature move, all over his coat. Alice had never laughed so much in her life.
The next has a picture of Marie just when she was a year old. Charles and herself, were posing with her in Alice’s arms. Alice touches the picture tenderly, remembering that Marie is downstairs, she quickens her pace. Next, down the line of photos are more pictures of Marie during her school years: her kindergarten birthday party at Chuck E Cheese, then more pictures from school, Marie’s prom and ball pictures, and lastly her graduation picture complete with cap and gown. A small tear squeezes from Alice’s eye, but she quickly brushes it away. Alice reaches the staircase and grabs the banister on her way down. She can hear her daughter’s frustration in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you!” Marie turns accusingly to the kitchen door. Alice stops like a dagger was thrust into her heart. Marie goes back to the cutting board preparing vegetables for the spaghetti. “All you do is say how… how I can do better. Or what would your father think! But you didn’t have to chase him out the door!” Marie takes a quick pause to gather herself and to stop her hand from shaking with anger, especially as she is holding a knife.
“Whenever he came over, it was like a battleground! Why can’t you understand that he makes me happy?” The tears are streaming down her face now, splashing across her hands melding with the water from the freshly washed vegetables.
Chop, Chop, Chop
Then without warning, Marie collapses on the ground. Pounding the linoleum with her fist. Alice makes an attempt to move to comfort her daughter, reaching out with her right hand. Marie then releases a scream of anguish. “He makes me happy. I love him, and he loves me… And together we are going to have a baby. YOUR grandchild!” Marie glares at the ceiling with hatred. “The grandchild, you don’t want to see…”
Alice is stunned in silence. Her face turns to mourning as she watches her beautiful daughter tearing herself up on the kitchen floor. Her breaths quicken, and she feels the tears flow on her own face. Grabbing onto herself with her hands, she turns around to walk slowly up the stairs to her bedroom. A sound of the knife scratching across the cutting board announces that Marie has gotten up off the floor and resumed the preparations for dinner. A steady chopping sound intermingling with inconsistent sniffling feels like lead nails piercing Alice’s lungs. She finally reaches her bed, in exhaustion, flinging her robe back onto its chair and climbing back into bed. She moves her covers up, and hugs them in her cold hands, the tears dripping onto her pillowcase freely.
Marie finishes with the spaghetti preparations and throws everything into a pot and brings it to a boil. She brushes herself off, and looks down at her belly. Smiling, she rubs her starting to emerge belly bump. “One day, when you come out, you can help me make dinner.” Marie walks to the cabinet to grab the plates and utensils to set the table. A loud thud sounds above her. “Mom?
“Mom?!” Marie drops the plates and utensils on the floor as she breaks into a dead run. “Mother!” She screams scrambling around the railing, taking the stairs two at a time. She bursts through the door looking around wildly. The life support machine was toppled over on its side. Marie rushes to the machine, pushing it back to its side making sure it was still working. Then she looks over to her mother. Alice lay in bed in her worn tattered nightgown, clutching the covers. “Oh Mom, please… please just wake up. We all miss you! You’ll be a grandmother. I know you don’t like him but please just wake up so you can see your grandchild… please… please Mom…” Marie throws herself across her mother and silently cries, clutching her hands.
One tear slips down Alice’s face as she joins her daughter. “I know honey, I know. Though I can’t move, I’ll always be by your side, in spirit. I love you.”
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3.02.2010
One small step for Man…
Landing gently on the tattered front steps of his three story home in Brooklyn, Mr. Lewis fumbles between holding his black briefcase in his left hand while cradling a bouquet of red roses intermingling with white baby’s breath under his arm and reaching into his right pocket of his brown blazer jacket for his keys.
“Honey I’m home!” Mr. Lewis calls as he steps through the threshold of the door, barely managing to squeeze himself and his bounty of possessions. Dropping his briefcase alongside the spiraling stairwell, he expertly takes the bouquet behind him as he waits for his family to appear. In no time at all, three brown heads pop over the banister.
“Daddy!”His children scream, as the avalanche begins like a small herd of elephants trampling towards him. Bracing himself slightly, awaiting the tackle of small bodies. “Oof, ouch, ok… ok…” smiles Mr. Lewis through the grimaces. “Hey… hey be gentle, I didn’t raise you kids to behave like this! Where are your manners? I might have to talk to your mother about this…”
“About what?” a sweet musical voice floats above the chaos. Everyone turns to the head of the staircase to see a ravishing woman. Her brown hair is tied back but a few strands straggle around her flour marked face, her green eyes are glaring at the children but betray themselves as they lighten into a smile. She wears dark blue jeans and a black Hard Rock Café T-shirt; with an apron that displays the intense battle between food and man, or in this case woman.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Lewis gestures to the impish children who smile and disperse throughout the home, only to peer around the nearest corner, conspicuously.
“Hi Dear.” Suddenly he is bashful as she, like a domestic queen of cookery, strides down the staircase.
“Emery Clifford Lewis! How many times have I told you! Dust yourself off when you enter into this home, you look like something the cat dragged…” as Mr. Lewis grabs his wife and cuts her off with a sound kiss on the lips. “…in” Now it is time for Mrs. Lewis to blush.
“It’s nice to see you too Ashley.” Suavely, Mr. Lewis presents to her his gift. “For you my Dear!”
“Oh honey! I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” As they embrace again, until, of course, the attempted stifled snickering begins. Mr. Lewis rolls his eyes. “Can I go?” he whispers to his wife.
“You better, I have something on the stove, and otherwise I would.”
“Thanks honey!” With a voracious snarl, Mr. Lewis leaps over the banister at his children, who scream and dart in horror all over the house.
Smiling as she heads upstairs to the kitchen, Mrs. Lewis calls out, “Don’t forget to wash up before dinner, which is in 10 minutes!”
Mr. Lewis appears with his sports coat disheveled, but eyes shining bright from acting like a child. “Alright kids, you heard your mother! Go fix yourselves! I’ll be right down honey.” As Mr. Lewis climbs the stairs to the master bedroom.
He opens the door to the bedroom taking off his coat and hanging it up in the closet. Taking the clothes laid out for him by his wonderful wife he proceeds to change. Bless her. God blessed me with the greatest wife in the world. he thought. Looking around for his slippers, he finds them at the foot of his bed. Taking a quick detour to the restroom, he finishes his business. Washing his hands, he sucks in a deep breath and exhales a big sigh. Then snapping back to attention he splashes water onto his face. Drying off with a hand towel, he heads back out of the bedroom and down the stairs to see his family seated at the table expecting him to start.
“I’m sorry.” With a grin, Mr. Lewis takes his seat. “So who’s turn is it tonight?”
Clarice, his ten year old daughter raises her hand gingerly. “It’s mine.”
“Alright ‘Clarey’ whenever you are ready.” Mr. Lewis smiles proudly at his daughter as his chest inadvertently puffs out like a robin brandishing its deep red markings in springtime.
“Ok. Let’s Pray. Dear God, thank you for my family. Thank you for today. Thank you for the food. Amen.” Clarice’s head doesn’t rise due to her sudden timidity.
Mr. Lewis gets up from the oak wood chairs and sweeps around the table to his daughter. He pulls Clarice’s chair out suddenly and swoops down to give her the biggest hug he could without crushing her. He sets her down gently in her chair, and bends down to his knees into a squat before her.
“You did well, Clarice. Both of us are extremely proud of you. Thank you for praying for us.”
Clarice raises her soft brown eyes, and smiles her angelic smile. “Thanks Daddy!”
Mr. Lewis gets back to his feet, towering over his daughter but all the while smiling at her like a father can. With a slight bow and curtsey, “You are welcome.”
He walks back to his seat at the head of the table. “Shall we dig in?” he says with a side smile.
Mr. Lewis didn’t even need to suggest that, as his children grabbed their silverware waiting Mrs. Lewis to unveil their dinner for the evening. Waiting for a grand silence, eyeing her children one by one until they settled down in a polite fashion, she grabs the silver dome obscuring her treat from the eyes of her hungry family.
“Now, I worked very hard on dinner tonight. So you better like it.” Mrs. Lewis warned her children.
“That’s right children. Both your mother and I work very hard to get food onto this table. Especially now with the times being as hard as it is. We are lucky that only I have to work, while your mother can stay at home to be here when you come back from school. Further down the line, I don’t know if that will be possible, but we will meet the challenge head on!”
“We know father.” His children chorused.
“Can we eat now?” piped up little five year old Thomas.
“Yes we can.” Mrs. Lewis smiles tenderly at her son. “Drum roll please!” The whole table obliges. “Tonight we feast on… Meatloaf!”
About an hour later after the dishes are cleared away, the dessert already eaten and the dishwasher merrily chugging its own tune of suds and bubbles, Mr. Lewis and the rest of the family are piled into the family room in assorted areas. Clarice is reading on the couch, Thomas is playing with his train set, and Annabelle is having tea with her dolly Tiffany. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis are both sitting in their own Victorian arm chairs imported from England, Mr. Lewis reading the newspaper from today, and Mrs. Lewis is working on a crossword puzzle.
“Ugh! Ok I can’t stand it. I need to get some fresh air. All of this good food is just settling into my stomach. Anyone else want to join me?” Mr. Lewis groans, standing up, stretching while throwing the newspaper into a pile on his set.
“I suppose we could make it a family trip. Anywhere on your mind?” Mrs. Lewis looks up casually at her husband.
“Well I haven’t seen the Brooklyn Bridge in a while. Anyone object?”
The children all glanced up excitedly dismissing their various play things. “No?” says Mr. Lewis. “Alright we’ll go there. All of us?”
Mr. Lewis was barely able to get that question out as he was drowned out by the sheer decibels of his children’s delighted screaming.
“I take that as a yes. Ok children, get your things.”
Soon the family is by the door waiting for their head of household. “Don’t get lost now. It’s not too far away but stick together. If you need help, either your mother or I will be right behind you. Ready? Let’s go!”
Mr. Lewis opens the door and steps outside to make sure the coast is clear. He motions to Thomas. Grabbing his hand with one hand and the back of his pants with the other, Mr. Lewis takes a mighty swing and Thomas disappears off the front steps. He repeats this until all three of the children fly off into the night. Mrs. Lewis steps up and locks the door. Kissing Mr. Lewis on the lips with a soft bat of her lashes at his cheek and a wink, she too vanishes into the dark. A sigh of deep love escapes him, Mr. Lewis shakes the doorknob to make sure it is closed, and looks on into the distance. He can barely see the shapes of his children ahead while his wife is dancing beckoning him to come. With one last look, Mr. Lewis bends his knees and springs off after his family. Landing on cement, watching the debris float in front of him, he plans his route. Jump after jump he times himself, skidding over the roofs of broken cars, climbing ladders leading to nowhere. He looks back at his home; ethereally it stands still, rooted by its sheer volume against the timelessness of space. I think I need to get better shoes. He thinks, running and leaping against any obstacle in his path. Every now and then Mr. Lewis will take a glance underneath him, it will still dazzle him to this day. How the Earth still managed to stay together despite the Martian attack that shattered it. One day, we’ll figure this out. He thought, until then Neil Armstrong said it best. “That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” except now, we keep leaping.
Feel free to subscribe to http://willischinn.blogspot.com
“Honey I’m home!” Mr. Lewis calls as he steps through the threshold of the door, barely managing to squeeze himself and his bounty of possessions. Dropping his briefcase alongside the spiraling stairwell, he expertly takes the bouquet behind him as he waits for his family to appear. In no time at all, three brown heads pop over the banister.
“Daddy!”His children scream, as the avalanche begins like a small herd of elephants trampling towards him. Bracing himself slightly, awaiting the tackle of small bodies. “Oof, ouch, ok… ok…” smiles Mr. Lewis through the grimaces. “Hey… hey be gentle, I didn’t raise you kids to behave like this! Where are your manners? I might have to talk to your mother about this…”
“About what?” a sweet musical voice floats above the chaos. Everyone turns to the head of the staircase to see a ravishing woman. Her brown hair is tied back but a few strands straggle around her flour marked face, her green eyes are glaring at the children but betray themselves as they lighten into a smile. She wears dark blue jeans and a black Hard Rock Café T-shirt; with an apron that displays the intense battle between food and man, or in this case woman.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Lewis gestures to the impish children who smile and disperse throughout the home, only to peer around the nearest corner, conspicuously.
“Hi Dear.” Suddenly he is bashful as she, like a domestic queen of cookery, strides down the staircase.
“Emery Clifford Lewis! How many times have I told you! Dust yourself off when you enter into this home, you look like something the cat dragged…” as Mr. Lewis grabs his wife and cuts her off with a sound kiss on the lips. “…in” Now it is time for Mrs. Lewis to blush.
“It’s nice to see you too Ashley.” Suavely, Mr. Lewis presents to her his gift. “For you my Dear!”
“Oh honey! I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” As they embrace again, until, of course, the attempted stifled snickering begins. Mr. Lewis rolls his eyes. “Can I go?” he whispers to his wife.
“You better, I have something on the stove, and otherwise I would.”
“Thanks honey!” With a voracious snarl, Mr. Lewis leaps over the banister at his children, who scream and dart in horror all over the house.
Smiling as she heads upstairs to the kitchen, Mrs. Lewis calls out, “Don’t forget to wash up before dinner, which is in 10 minutes!”
Mr. Lewis appears with his sports coat disheveled, but eyes shining bright from acting like a child. “Alright kids, you heard your mother! Go fix yourselves! I’ll be right down honey.” As Mr. Lewis climbs the stairs to the master bedroom.
He opens the door to the bedroom taking off his coat and hanging it up in the closet. Taking the clothes laid out for him by his wonderful wife he proceeds to change. Bless her. God blessed me with the greatest wife in the world. he thought. Looking around for his slippers, he finds them at the foot of his bed. Taking a quick detour to the restroom, he finishes his business. Washing his hands, he sucks in a deep breath and exhales a big sigh. Then snapping back to attention he splashes water onto his face. Drying off with a hand towel, he heads back out of the bedroom and down the stairs to see his family seated at the table expecting him to start.
“I’m sorry.” With a grin, Mr. Lewis takes his seat. “So who’s turn is it tonight?”
Clarice, his ten year old daughter raises her hand gingerly. “It’s mine.”
“Alright ‘Clarey’ whenever you are ready.” Mr. Lewis smiles proudly at his daughter as his chest inadvertently puffs out like a robin brandishing its deep red markings in springtime.
“Ok. Let’s Pray. Dear God, thank you for my family. Thank you for today. Thank you for the food. Amen.” Clarice’s head doesn’t rise due to her sudden timidity.
Mr. Lewis gets up from the oak wood chairs and sweeps around the table to his daughter. He pulls Clarice’s chair out suddenly and swoops down to give her the biggest hug he could without crushing her. He sets her down gently in her chair, and bends down to his knees into a squat before her.
“You did well, Clarice. Both of us are extremely proud of you. Thank you for praying for us.”
Clarice raises her soft brown eyes, and smiles her angelic smile. “Thanks Daddy!”
Mr. Lewis gets back to his feet, towering over his daughter but all the while smiling at her like a father can. With a slight bow and curtsey, “You are welcome.”
He walks back to his seat at the head of the table. “Shall we dig in?” he says with a side smile.
Mr. Lewis didn’t even need to suggest that, as his children grabbed their silverware waiting Mrs. Lewis to unveil their dinner for the evening. Waiting for a grand silence, eyeing her children one by one until they settled down in a polite fashion, she grabs the silver dome obscuring her treat from the eyes of her hungry family.
“Now, I worked very hard on dinner tonight. So you better like it.” Mrs. Lewis warned her children.
“That’s right children. Both your mother and I work very hard to get food onto this table. Especially now with the times being as hard as it is. We are lucky that only I have to work, while your mother can stay at home to be here when you come back from school. Further down the line, I don’t know if that will be possible, but we will meet the challenge head on!”
“We know father.” His children chorused.
“Can we eat now?” piped up little five year old Thomas.
“Yes we can.” Mrs. Lewis smiles tenderly at her son. “Drum roll please!” The whole table obliges. “Tonight we feast on… Meatloaf!”
About an hour later after the dishes are cleared away, the dessert already eaten and the dishwasher merrily chugging its own tune of suds and bubbles, Mr. Lewis and the rest of the family are piled into the family room in assorted areas. Clarice is reading on the couch, Thomas is playing with his train set, and Annabelle is having tea with her dolly Tiffany. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis are both sitting in their own Victorian arm chairs imported from England, Mr. Lewis reading the newspaper from today, and Mrs. Lewis is working on a crossword puzzle.
“Ugh! Ok I can’t stand it. I need to get some fresh air. All of this good food is just settling into my stomach. Anyone else want to join me?” Mr. Lewis groans, standing up, stretching while throwing the newspaper into a pile on his set.
“I suppose we could make it a family trip. Anywhere on your mind?” Mrs. Lewis looks up casually at her husband.
“Well I haven’t seen the Brooklyn Bridge in a while. Anyone object?”
The children all glanced up excitedly dismissing their various play things. “No?” says Mr. Lewis. “Alright we’ll go there. All of us?”
Mr. Lewis was barely able to get that question out as he was drowned out by the sheer decibels of his children’s delighted screaming.
“I take that as a yes. Ok children, get your things.”
Soon the family is by the door waiting for their head of household. “Don’t get lost now. It’s not too far away but stick together. If you need help, either your mother or I will be right behind you. Ready? Let’s go!”
Mr. Lewis opens the door and steps outside to make sure the coast is clear. He motions to Thomas. Grabbing his hand with one hand and the back of his pants with the other, Mr. Lewis takes a mighty swing and Thomas disappears off the front steps. He repeats this until all three of the children fly off into the night. Mrs. Lewis steps up and locks the door. Kissing Mr. Lewis on the lips with a soft bat of her lashes at his cheek and a wink, she too vanishes into the dark. A sigh of deep love escapes him, Mr. Lewis shakes the doorknob to make sure it is closed, and looks on into the distance. He can barely see the shapes of his children ahead while his wife is dancing beckoning him to come. With one last look, Mr. Lewis bends his knees and springs off after his family. Landing on cement, watching the debris float in front of him, he plans his route. Jump after jump he times himself, skidding over the roofs of broken cars, climbing ladders leading to nowhere. He looks back at his home; ethereally it stands still, rooted by its sheer volume against the timelessness of space. I think I need to get better shoes. He thinks, running and leaping against any obstacle in his path. Every now and then Mr. Lewis will take a glance underneath him, it will still dazzle him to this day. How the Earth still managed to stay together despite the Martian attack that shattered it. One day, we’ll figure this out. He thought, until then Neil Armstrong said it best. “That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” except now, we keep leaping.
Feel free to subscribe to http://willischinn.blogspot.com
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