Semi-Daily Scribbles

Carving out a corner to post random crap.

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  • Sleep is Real

    Sleep is Real

    Previously…

    But it is lazy, sloppy storytelling. Isn't it? It was all just a dream. Sleep, though. That's where it all happens. Sleep is a mistress. The perfect companion. The keeper of secrets. Gives gives gives while you take take take. Respectable, and you wake up refreshed in the morning. No need for flowers or candy or shame-filled walks back to the apartment. No stink eye. No tut tut tongue-clucking disapproval. Just the kind of realness you can't get from family night dinner conversation or a job interview. Proof irrefutable that this walking around with eyes pried open is a sham. Quickest way to lose one's balance.

  • Dawn

    Monday Morning[monsters hold down jobs] Some days you feel these steps have been laid out for you and you're slowly catching up with a predetermined outcome. [dawn is a hollow promise] I dare you to take a wrong turn. Just can't happen. Walk…run…[a shot in the dark] Makes no difference at all. You'll get there in the end.

  • Chore

    ChoreMaya earned a college degree, damn it! Ralph and the kids didn't give a second thought to Mom's intellect. They just needed her to make their lives a little less of a hassle. For instance, Maya knew how to separate the laundry. She'd happily tell them all cold water worked for most things. Maya dreamed of rivulets and great sweeping sheets of icy blue water. She often pictured herself clad in overstretched sweats, negotiating treacherous rapids on a rather enlarged under-the-rim bowl deodorizer, paddling madly with a wickedly big brush. She was going to get to her destination regardless of discomfort and danger. Regardless of loneliness and lungs filled with pure mountain runoff. All she had to do was take a deep breath, point her toes in the right direction, and hold on. Maya'd grown tired of scrubbing the commode every time she had to pee. What a chore, but how else could she sit down in peace? Turbulent, torrential water washed away a multitude of sins.

  • A Solitary Situation

    At your serviceCommunity is good for kvetching but it's no place to get work done. Who wants to watch you become unhinged? Soil yourself? It's just an uncomfortable situation all around when you toss your entrails on the rocks to figure out where your story should go. That is magic best kept behind the red velvet curtain, Cupcake. This solitary thing we do can't be done by committee, no matter how many hugs and high-fives we get for typing ten pages a day. Just keep excavating in your dungeon. It's cool. It's dark. No one sees the mountain of empties in the corner. Silence is your best friend.

  • turned on

    Turned Onjust stop and think for a moment about that moment when all the forces of the universe converged inside one bleary eyed thought while watching some old b&w costume drama after a week of very very little sleep and the kids stopped with the crying but the milk went bad and there was not a whole lot of happiness found anywhere in the house but there was a stack of junk mail and a newish black ballpoint pen found at the park and through the haze of it all the recipe for bacon pecan cinnamon rolls was written down front and back on several of those yellowed with age or rain stained envelopes piled high on the kitchen table where there were five rectangular shaped rubbish free patches so someone could set down a bowl and eat and oh how the idea for a lucrative business in the baked goods trade was turned on in the sluggish brain because of that soured milk

  • Camera Shy

    Too Camera ShyIt's hot today, but you always did like a good soak in the sun. It's been a year since I was able to scratch your chin and tell you it was too early for supper. We can feel you roam about the house, taking head count as you move from room to room so no one goes unaccounted for on your watch. Little sis misses you, too. She's in the habit these days of snoozing in the same crannies and corners you used to go hide in. I've even found her nestled in your favorite spot in our bedroom closet. You know I still can't say your name without her ears standing at attention. She feels your absence even though your essence is everywhere. Very confusing! We all expect to see you asleep in your basket or pawing at the laundry room door. And the crazy runnin'! The way you'd take off chasing invisible rabbits in the backyard always made us laugh. You may have gone on ahead without us, but in my mind's eye you're curled up at my feet as I type this remembrance to mark the day we had to say goodbye.

  • “Admittedly, I’m a coward.”

    CorneredMarnie avoided her best friend for the past two weeks. If she thought she heard Lettie's voice, or smelled Lettie's attar of roses while she was out running errands, Marnie ducked down dark alleys and hid in really spider-webby photinias. She began to get disgusted with herself. She should have just come out and said, "No, I won't read it." She should have told Lettie best friends don't make good literary critics. Not if the parties involved wanted to remain best friends. But Marnie accepted Lettie's single-spaced pages; their margins crammed with Lettie's handwritten notes/comments (Hell demons need a catchier name. Use silvery orb instead of moon? The deal with the baby explained in book 5.) And all the characters talked funny. Marnie didn't think Bronze Age people used that many adverbs when they confabbed around the fire.

  • A Whimsical Thing

    BaseProse riddled with holes.
    Janie's dots never connect.
    Whimsy goes so far.

  • Lula in the Spotlight

    Lula in the SpotlightLula drowned in the summer sun. Her features faded under golden molten rays of light. Her brain turned into sticky sweet tar. Lula's power to project an essence of innocence melted like fat off her bones and splish-splattered down the storm drain. Lula stood exposed, worse than naked even. Her fanbase saw for the very first time the charred heart Lula kept hidden beneath her charming deceit.

  • on a roll

    On a Rollit's round it's square
    it hits you on the noggin from out of thin air
    naw, it was already there
    coiled up in your belly
    stretched out on the grass
    wide-eyed
    or weary
    hot coals glow and winter's grip goes slack
    summer keeps coming back
    the thought can't find its word but
    the world still turns

    Inspiration