The white noise of civilization has faded out...Usually crowded places are disquietingly empty.
The Rose
It says a lot by saying very little.
Tower of Memories
I found this place impressive, cinematic, unusual...and unsettling.
Write badly
One of the things that's been joyously freeing about my writing program is that we're given permission to do something important: Write badly. In order to create a sculpture, you have to start with a big block of clay, or a stone, or a chunk of wood. At first, you're just hacking pieces away and … Continue reading Write badly
Happy Halloween
The things we replace
As a young child, I had a small music box that played Fur Elise. I carried it everywhere. It looked much like this... My childhood one was smaller, and enclosed in plastic, but you get the idea. A really nasty adult, who was irrationally upset by my innocent obsession, took it away from me. Years … Continue reading The things we replace
What it feels like to shiver
Last night as I drove home from my writing class, there was a gentle, lackadaisical snow falling in Denver. The restaurant and microbrewery patios were empty. The homeless had taken shelter somewhere - at least I hope they did - as the temperature dropped. Less people roamed the sidewalks. It was quiet, in that beautiful … Continue reading What it feels like to shiver
Delete the explanation
The other week in class, my writing instructor said, "When you get rid of the explanation, the emotion really comes through." That hit me, because I was like...this is truth. This is a life lesson. Reveal something without directly saying it, and you make it much more powerful. Watch how others around you reveal things … Continue reading Delete the explanation
Literary mea culpas, literary prayers
In my writing class, there's a certain format to things. We read a bit of this, then reflect. Read another passage, discuss. A literary liturgy of sorts. There's something about this class that reminds me of Catholic masses, only without the standing and kneeling. (Though, I would say, our literary docent probably wouldn't mind if … Continue reading Literary mea culpas, literary prayers
In the coffeehouse
Killing time before my writing class, perhaps waiting for something in the way one waits for Godot. A blue-haired girl with large, round rimmed glasses is to my left, Misfits sticker prominently placed on her laptop, studying for what I think is a chemistry exam with a raven-haired girl with thick-rimmed black glasses. To my … Continue reading In the coffeehouse
