But I put out the garbage.
And now I feel MUCH better!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Tuesday is garbage night.... - Creative Writing
The sun has not yet gone down
and so I am not allowed to put out my garbage.
All that is rotting must be put out after dark.
So that it is not visible by the light of day.
Only the moon, barely a quarter of its usual grandeur,
can shine down on the black bags filled with waste.
As the chemical reactions of decomposition
start to give off gases with the most foul of odors,
the bags multiply up and down the avenue.
Like huge, dark mushrooms the garbage sprouts
in the shade of the trees lining the street.
Shade that can only be seen by the light of day.
As the night becomes darker, the scavengers, both human and animal alike,
come out to feed off of that which is no longer wanted.
They sift through food scraps and tin cans
in the hopes of finding something of worth,
something that is still good.
Something the insiders may have overlooked.
Inside their homes after dark, the citizens are safe
from the stench which will overtake the night.
The stench in which the scavengers will bath in order to find some rotting treasure.
A piece of meat on the bone.
A soda can to recycle.
Persistence and repetition arm the scavengers for success.
Sooner or later the animals find rotten morsels
while the humans add another five cents to their mental tally.
And inside,the blue squares give off a shine
much like that of the moon but much less reserved.
While outside, the blue luminescence glows from each window
and mixes in with the foetid stink of garbage.
and so I am not allowed to put out my garbage.
All that is rotting must be put out after dark.
So that it is not visible by the light of day.
Only the moon, barely a quarter of its usual grandeur,
can shine down on the black bags filled with waste.
As the chemical reactions of decomposition
start to give off gases with the most foul of odors,
the bags multiply up and down the avenue.
Like huge, dark mushrooms the garbage sprouts
in the shade of the trees lining the street.
Shade that can only be seen by the light of day.
As the night becomes darker, the scavengers, both human and animal alike,
come out to feed off of that which is no longer wanted.
They sift through food scraps and tin cans
in the hopes of finding something of worth,
something that is still good.
Something the insiders may have overlooked.
Inside their homes after dark, the citizens are safe
from the stench which will overtake the night.
The stench in which the scavengers will bath in order to find some rotting treasure.
A piece of meat on the bone.
A soda can to recycle.
Persistence and repetition arm the scavengers for success.
Sooner or later the animals find rotten morsels
while the humans add another five cents to their mental tally.
And inside,the blue squares give off a shine
much like that of the moon but much less reserved.
While outside, the blue luminescence glows from each window
and mixes in with the foetid stink of garbage.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Stream of Thought & Vision - CW
Dark sky, birds fly.
Clouds of steele.
Right turn at a stop sign.
Flashing light.
Wind dance.
Grocery bags full.
Pointing here and there.
Push, push.
Grunt, grunt.
Wheels spin then stop.
Couples hand-in-hand.
Tricycle, bicycle.
First date banter.
Family drive.
Umbrella in hand.
Newborns everywhere.
Young girls.
Flipping their hair.
Pigeon's flight.
Dark of night.
Descends.
The New Village.
Boys on wheels.
Recycling bag.
Neon skate.
Crosswalk, take-out.
Chinatown.
Golden leopard.
Dark sky, jets fly.
Bus pass.
Flip-flop.
Day's end.
Begin again.
Clouds of steele.
Right turn at a stop sign.
Flashing light.
Wind dance.
Grocery bags full.
Pointing here and there.
Push, push.
Grunt, grunt.
Wheels spin then stop.
Couples hand-in-hand.
Tricycle, bicycle.
First date banter.
Family drive.
Umbrella in hand.
Newborns everywhere.
Young girls.
Flipping their hair.
Pigeon's flight.
Dark of night.
Descends.
The New Village.
Boys on wheels.
Recycling bag.
Neon skate.
Crosswalk, take-out.
Chinatown.
Golden leopard.
Dark sky, jets fly.
Bus pass.
Flip-flop.
Day's end.
Begin again.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The Angry Teapot - Creative Writing
The following creative writing piece
was written during my afternoon writing session with Lorraine.
We had to choose an inanimate object
and then give it a voice.
--------------------------------------------------------
The Angry Teapot
I am so tired.
I get so hot.
Then I get the chills.
I feel like a menopausal woman during a heat wave.
I wish that they would have a little more consideration
for my comfort.
Yes! My comfort.
It seems that I am always the one who is giving comfort:
in the early morning,
in the late afternoon,
and then again in the evening.
I am always thinking of others.
I am always doing for others.
When is it going to be my turn?
I love the fact that I can give
so much comfort to those around me.
But still....
When is it going to be about me?
People are always filling me up
then emptying me out one cup at a time.
Then there's the chilly rinse.
And the whole process repeats itself
the next time they need a moment of relaxation and comfort.
I am exhausted by these heat spells
and cold chills.
I am tired of being used for the pleasure of others.
When will I get the afternoon off?
It seems that I am always working.
I need a vacation from my life.
Maybe I'll go to Italy.
I hear they have no use for me over there.
All day it's coffee, coffee, coffee.
That would give me the rest I need.
Then I could enjoy life a bit, too.
Who knows?
Maybe I'll go to the beach and work on my tan.
Yes! That's it!
Italy sounds good. Very good.
A little bit of rest & relaxation from these English ways....
was written during my afternoon writing session with Lorraine.
We had to choose an inanimate object
and then give it a voice.
--------------------------------------------------------
The Angry Teapot
I am so tired.
I get so hot.
Then I get the chills.
I feel like a menopausal woman during a heat wave.
I wish that they would have a little more consideration
for my comfort.
Yes! My comfort.
It seems that I am always the one who is giving comfort:
in the early morning,
in the late afternoon,
and then again in the evening.
I am always thinking of others.
I am always doing for others.
When is it going to be my turn?
I love the fact that I can give
so much comfort to those around me.
But still....
When is it going to be about me?
People are always filling me up
then emptying me out one cup at a time.
Then there's the chilly rinse.
And the whole process repeats itself
the next time they need a moment of relaxation and comfort.
I am exhausted by these heat spells
and cold chills.
I am tired of being used for the pleasure of others.
When will I get the afternoon off?
It seems that I am always working.
I need a vacation from my life.
Maybe I'll go to Italy.
I hear they have no use for me over there.
All day it's coffee, coffee, coffee.
That would give me the rest I need.
Then I could enjoy life a bit, too.
Who knows?
Maybe I'll go to the beach and work on my tan.
Yes! That's it!
Italy sounds good. Very good.
A little bit of rest & relaxation from these English ways....
The Quiet Life
Today I went downtown and met Lorraine.
We spent a couple of hours doing some creative writing exercises.
I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I might post one of the stories here.
Anywho------I am reading a really good book.
"Giovanni's Room" by James Baldwin (1956)
I am perhaps a third of the way through the book.
It is an excellent read.
Very dramatic.
I realize(with much glee)how little drama there is in my life.
And it makes me so happy.
When I was younger my whole life was about drama, it seems.
That is probably a distortion but still.....
I was very much into a dramatic existence.
I thought the rush of contrary emotions
helped me to feel more alive.
But in fact, all it did was create lots of anxiety.
The last five years of my life has been filled with real drama.
My brother was killed in a war in the Middle East five yrs. ago.
And my father just died of diabetes this past March.
And yet, despite these HUGE losses,
I still feel as if my life is relatively calm....and I LOVE IT!!!
I no longer need drama in my life
in order to validate my existence.
I am immensely satisfied with serenity.
I do believe that I am repeating myself.
But it is worth repeating.
I am so happy having a quiet life.
And now I know how to leave other peoples' drama to them.
I can listen. Interject.
But I don't let the drama suck out my energy.
I don't make the drama my own.
Thank God!!!
Of course, the ability to unplug is a work in progress.
I am not always able to remain a witness.
Sometimes I do get wrapped up.
But now I often catch myself before getting fully razzled by someone else's drama.
And I step back.
And take a breath.
And centre myself once more.
Then I can listen again without being zapped of energy.
How beautiful is that?
We spent a couple of hours doing some creative writing exercises.
I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I might post one of the stories here.
Anywho------I am reading a really good book.
"Giovanni's Room" by James Baldwin (1956)
I am perhaps a third of the way through the book.
It is an excellent read.
Very dramatic.
I realize(with much glee)how little drama there is in my life.
And it makes me so happy.
When I was younger my whole life was about drama, it seems.
That is probably a distortion but still.....
I was very much into a dramatic existence.
I thought the rush of contrary emotions
helped me to feel more alive.
But in fact, all it did was create lots of anxiety.
The last five years of my life has been filled with real drama.
My brother was killed in a war in the Middle East five yrs. ago.
And my father just died of diabetes this past March.
And yet, despite these HUGE losses,
I still feel as if my life is relatively calm....and I LOVE IT!!!
I no longer need drama in my life
in order to validate my existence.
I am immensely satisfied with serenity.
I do believe that I am repeating myself.
But it is worth repeating.
I am so happy having a quiet life.
And now I know how to leave other peoples' drama to them.
I can listen. Interject.
But I don't let the drama suck out my energy.
I don't make the drama my own.
Thank God!!!
Of course, the ability to unplug is a work in progress.
I am not always able to remain a witness.
Sometimes I do get wrapped up.
But now I often catch myself before getting fully razzled by someone else's drama.
And I step back.
And take a breath.
And centre myself once more.
Then I can listen again without being zapped of energy.
How beautiful is that?
Friday, September 2, 2011
Husband By-the-Hour - Creative Writing
The following news article is the inspiration
for my creative writing piece called
"Husband By-the-Hour."
------------------------------------------------------------
Posted on January 18, 2011 14:54:29 EST by nickcarraway
A new business in Georgia is offering single women who need household help the chance to hire 'husbands' by the hour - but the company's owner admits that all that some of his customers need is love.
"Our service is here to assist those women who need help with tough housekeeping tasks, such as for example minor repair works," company owner Beso Mchedlishvili told AFP.
But he said that many women had been confused by the company's name - A Husband for an Hour Limited - and had been asking for something more.
Since going into business in the ex-Soviet republic two months ago, the number of calls from women seeking a more intimate hour has significantly exceeded the orders for the company's actual services.
"So we have to explain to them that our guys are not male prostitutes," Mchedlishvili said.
"They can help with repairing a leaking tap, but their job description says nothing about providing affection."
Hiring out a 'husband' from the Tbilisi-based company costs 17 dollars (13 euros) an hour, Mchedlishvili said.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Husband By-the-Hour.
I am not married
and I don't want to be.
But sometimes it would be nice
to rent a husband by-the-hour.
There are some tasks that I'd prefer not to do.
I am quite capable
but I just don't want to have to deal with the garbage.
And those heavy boxes that need to be taken out of storage.
I am very strong
but I'd rather have a man to move them.
A surrogate husband.
A man I could rent by-the-hour.
You know.
A man I could call
to come and massage my feet when they hurt.
For just one hour.
Or when my back aches.
When I've had a bad day
And would like someone to come home to.
A man who would take me in his arms and hug me tightly.
That's when I'd rent a husband by-the-hour.
I am an independent, contemporary woman.
But still.
It would be nice to rent a husband by-the-hour.
Perhaps when I'm sick with a cold
and can't find the courage to go to the drugstore
for much needed remedies.
Or in the dead chill of winter.
He could warm the bed for me
with his furnace-like heat.
And keep my monkey feet warm against his body.
We could spoon
and I'd fall into peaceful slumber.
I like my space.
And I LOVE my own company.
But even I get overcome by waves of nostalgia.
I get tired of being alone.
I dream of what it would be like to be in the perfect relationship.
At times like those I'd pick up the phone
and dial for a husband by-the-hour.
I might even call on some Friday nights.
When I am tired of eating by myself.
I'd cook us dinner.
And we'd talk about our day.
Then maybe watch a movie at home.
Ah! What matrimonial bliss.
Cuddling and commenting on the movie.
We'd create our own happy ending.
I never realized that there are so many advantages
to having a man around the house.
Hey! Maybe I should just get married.
Perhaps I could start by dating.
Nah! I'll just rent a husband by-the-hour.
for my creative writing piece called
"Husband By-the-Hour."
------------------------------------------------------------
Posted on January 18, 2011 14:54:29 EST by nickcarraway
A new business in Georgia is offering single women who need household help the chance to hire 'husbands' by the hour - but the company's owner admits that all that some of his customers need is love.
"Our service is here to assist those women who need help with tough housekeeping tasks, such as for example minor repair works," company owner Beso Mchedlishvili told AFP.
But he said that many women had been confused by the company's name - A Husband for an Hour Limited - and had been asking for something more.
Since going into business in the ex-Soviet republic two months ago, the number of calls from women seeking a more intimate hour has significantly exceeded the orders for the company's actual services.
"So we have to explain to them that our guys are not male prostitutes," Mchedlishvili said.
"They can help with repairing a leaking tap, but their job description says nothing about providing affection."
Hiring out a 'husband' from the Tbilisi-based company costs 17 dollars (13 euros) an hour, Mchedlishvili said.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Husband By-the-Hour.
I am not married
and I don't want to be.
But sometimes it would be nice
to rent a husband by-the-hour.
There are some tasks that I'd prefer not to do.
I am quite capable
but I just don't want to have to deal with the garbage.
And those heavy boxes that need to be taken out of storage.
I am very strong
but I'd rather have a man to move them.
A surrogate husband.
A man I could rent by-the-hour.
You know.
A man I could call
to come and massage my feet when they hurt.
For just one hour.
Or when my back aches.
When I've had a bad day
And would like someone to come home to.
A man who would take me in his arms and hug me tightly.
That's when I'd rent a husband by-the-hour.
I am an independent, contemporary woman.
But still.
It would be nice to rent a husband by-the-hour.
Perhaps when I'm sick with a cold
and can't find the courage to go to the drugstore
for much needed remedies.
Or in the dead chill of winter.
He could warm the bed for me
with his furnace-like heat.
And keep my monkey feet warm against his body.
We could spoon
and I'd fall into peaceful slumber.
I like my space.
And I LOVE my own company.
But even I get overcome by waves of nostalgia.
I get tired of being alone.
I dream of what it would be like to be in the perfect relationship.
At times like those I'd pick up the phone
and dial for a husband by-the-hour.
I might even call on some Friday nights.
When I am tired of eating by myself.
I'd cook us dinner.
And we'd talk about our day.
Then maybe watch a movie at home.
Ah! What matrimonial bliss.
Cuddling and commenting on the movie.
We'd create our own happy ending.
I never realized that there are so many advantages
to having a man around the house.
Hey! Maybe I should just get married.
Perhaps I could start by dating.
Nah! I'll just rent a husband by-the-hour.
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