Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Nostalgia
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Sharon's hair (admit it. you don't know her name. sharon was your babysitter.) gleams like burnished bronze as she sits in a stream of March's best light. The scene inside the café reminds you of the time you stood nose to canvas with Bierstadt's California Spring (the interplay of sun and shade always has a…
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I informed Elinore that I trusted my gut more than some expert's opinion on how best to sell myself to the Cogs of Industry. She didn't believe me. All is right in the world if we choose to listen to the mysteries in the wind that sigh and cry. Soughing and cooing from on high…
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What is it you need to show to the world? What's the one thing you want me to know about you? How can you tell your story without it being a masterfully manipulated collection of photographs on Insty-Sham? Here's what Phyllida wants us to know about her: I am the Crone. I am your Forever…
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nice guysknow a kind wordplus an easy smile are the best luresto snare an unsuspecting heartso simple to kill them with attentionthey were all easy girls once no more bullseye on their backsj. could pick them out of a crowd tooand she warned the neighbor about m.sometimes the wrong boy is the safe choicebut a…
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Sometimes when I talk to you, your eyes are distorted by a liquid shimmer. "I'm not crying. You're crying!" A dead guy once called that rheumy-eyed stare "the puddly look of nostalgia." Are you reliving the past when you look at me? I have to admit there was something oddly familiar the first time I…
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If someone uses the phrase "safe as houses," think twice before you accept their invitation to come around for tea. Houses are portals to places we've never been, and would do well to traverse with care. Is it hospitality or the promise of the unknown that propels us to cross the threshold as we stand…
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Jessamine got to school early to snatch a desk at the back. Not her preferred seating arrangement, but the boy named Micah would be her object of study for the next hour and not the lesson on Cosecant / Secant / Cotangent Functions Ms. Onoko promised the day before. Micah. The friendly one who everybody…
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longing for the old countrywhere its inhabitants would eat your tender bellyand spit out what would be left of any backboneyou are neither just off the boatnor are you 15 quid short of the price needed for membershipyour contacts are clouded by a pretty shade of pussy willowwhile you struggle to juggle disparate worlds in…
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In your solitude, create art. Virginia would want you to. There is no such thing as loneliness. Rub away the charcoal line until the jawbone is softened. With eraser, swipe at age spots that give up the great lie. Smooth as a baby's argument; clear as the conscience of a nun. Creases are a way…
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You are not alone. The kid who thinks the external world – from mac-n-cheez to thrill rides at the county fair – is put in place by magical mommies/daddies for her sole pleasure grows up to be the woman who questions the reality of the timecard – from cubicle walls to eyeballs gone blurry by…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 