The man sat on the patio chair and watched Petunia play with her string of beads large and small. She’d grab them and run across the yard, look back at him to make sure he was watching, then take off again… a pale pink streak with them streaming behind her like an optimistic kite tail […]
A little warm-up writing (draft) from this morning’s coffee… (spurred by this image and a ‘mock’ cover I created that could one day be a real story). Spring had died, drowned by the climbing mercury in the giant thermometer on the brick wall of Tilson’s bar she could see by day in rising and fading […]
On those evenings, the backyard would become thick with fireflies; a dozen and more points of light. I’d sit on the steps and watch the little gold sparks wink in and out of the shorter grass close to the house as they moved towards the tall grass further back.
With a sigh she didn’t realize had come from her… she stooped to fill her jug.
I think many people (at least I know I do) get the most enjoyment and value out of things that are more than one layer deep. It could be the richness of a color (like you could dip your finger in it), the texture of a fine wood and look and feel of its grain, the savor of the food or drink, the subtleties and nuances of a well-written book, well-scripted/written movie or TV show, the joy of an intelligent discussion/conversation. It’s the same for me when it comes to the quality of interaction with another person and clients and I very much appreciate the quality of the person I work with and hope to know and work with them for a long time to come.
Sometimes creation is spurred by a plan, a predetermined action. I’ve found it’s also triggered often by something random. A sound, smell… a picture or image… sometimes a place or setting. All of them have an effect. Music is intense for me. It, sometimes a specific song, transports me into a vivid memory. Songs figure […]
Every picture tells a story… He was still young, almost 18, but many—no, most—would say too old to swing like a child. But the motion soothed him; a subconscious sense he could change his perceptions by mere movement. A shifting of view that revealed more of the world… and himself. To see what was before […]
She watched the old man, who had brought her there, as he went about adding more forgettable things to what was already forgotten.
As I write this—from my Pandora random station shuffle—Joan Baez is singing, ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.’ A song written by Robbie Robertson and originally recorded by the Canadian-American roots rock group The Band in 1969. It’s a first-person narrative relating the economic and social distress experienced by a poor white Southerner during […]
I’ve carried this piece of writing in my daily planner since 1992 and when life (or something within it) turns to shit as can happen from time to time… with troubles and worries all around. I’ve often read it to put things in perspective and give me something to center me and sync with what […]