Sunday, July 10, 2011
--DON'T SIT THERE, IT'S TOO CLOSE TO THE ROAD
…I read Jacqui Corcoran’s terrific slice of manna, “Somewhere Like Here” and consequently wrote heaps and heaps of poems. Some were edgy and out there. Some were gumballs or jawbreakers. One was about a Scottish wedding and newlyweds eating Haggis, which I just yesterday learned, is a delicacy made with sheep’s lung. Yum!
…I got a poem accepted by The L.E.S. Review. At first—because of the name--I thought it was a lesbian lit mag, but LES actually stands for Lower Eastside, meaning Manhattan. It made me happy that they liked my work. Anything NY connected or related gets me giddy because it is my favorite city on our fine planet.
…Silly me—I put together my second story collection. It’s all paginated. It’s ready to read. Ready to go. To ship. To be bound (and gagged?)
What’s silly is I haven’t got my first collection published yet.
Nor my novel.
I don’t even have an agent.
All I have, really, is words and these fingers that type them.
But, this isn’t me feeling sorry for myself. It’s not. Not today. I’m in good spirits. I am.
I do need a name for this second unpublished collection. Perhaps you could help me?
Here are some potential titles (tell me what you favor):
--Talk To Me
--Putting You Away
--Things I Know About Rabbit Holes
--The Truth About Leprechauns and Miracles
--I’ll Never Tell
--The Deep End
--Acts of Love
--Children In the Walls
--The Sin Jar
All of these are titles of stories I’ve had published and are included in the unpublished second collection.
Thanks for your help!
…I ran 11 miles on Saturday. It was sunny. A sunny unsleepless Saturday in Seattle. So I thought, why not just run Forrest Gump-style, though I did stop after 11.
I ran fast.
I got sweaty.
For whatever reason, I was not sore afterward and I’m not sore today.
Sometimes running is very necessary for me to stay sane.
…I live on a lake. It’s always pretty. There’s an eagle that lives in a tree next door. I call him Pete, Pete the eagle. I’m a fan of Pete’s. He looks so buff and full of pride. He flies by several times each day. Often he is as close to my window as ten feet.
Yesterday I heard this horrific honking. I’d never heard anything like it. It was worse than any cab war in NY.
A Momma duck was really blasting away. HONNNK! HAWNNNCK! HONNNK!!!
When I took a closer look, I saw why--Pete kept dive-bombing the water where a few of her ducklings had gotten carried away with the current, several yards apart from mother hen.
This swooping and HONKING! And attacking went on for quite some time.
It was unnerving, to say the least.
Momma duck blew as hard as she could, which bought her some time, which startled Pete enough, which enabled Mom to get her chicks all huddled up and safe.
It was a little frightening and I don’t know whether I’ve lost respect for Pete or not. He must have been awfully hungry, is all I could think.
…In any event, here are some nuggets for a festive Sunday night:
--"Like a costume, my numbness was taken away. Then hunger was added."
--"To get born, your body makes a pact with death, and from that moment, all it tries to do is cheat."
--"It's natural to be tired of earth. When you've been dead this long, you'll probably be tired of heaven."
--"You can see it in her face, everyone can. So the snow has to fall, sleep has to come. Because the mother's sick to death of her life and needs silence."
--"Are you healed, or do you only think you are?"
--"I was vigilant. I touched myself. I didn't feel anything."
--"I told myself from nothing nothing could be taken away."
--"The fresh unsteady colors."
--"I walked out of the fire alive; how can that be?"
--"You saved me, you should remember me. You changed me, you should remember me."
"But there are truths that ruin a life; the same way, some lies are generous, warm and cozy like the sun on the brick wall."
--"Nothing can be forced to live. The earth says forget, you forget. It says begin again, you begin again."
--"Living-living takes you away from sitting."