It’s very early and I’ve been ebaying for a typewriter. See, I’ve got a notion of escape that– apparently– involves an almost obsolete technology. I’ve got Zach Houston on my mind today, and my escapee friend, the letter D. As alphabets go, this year has definitely been a Silent E, so far. Very busy indeed,…
Reading “Out of a Clear Sky”
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I am happy to report that I received my copy of Sally Hinchcliffe’s Out of a Clear Sky in the post yesterday. It is currently out of stock on Amazon proper, but you can buy it in the U.S. through Amazon booksellers. It took about a week to arrive. Sally’s bio in the book is…
A Note on Nougat
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Occasionally I ask myself “What are you writing?!?? Pelting squirrels and fuzzy cat buses?!?” That is usually when I can feel myself “filling in”– you know, writing something that isn’t exactly the truth of what is on my mind. I guess I “fill-in” on the days when I need to talk, to spill it, but…
Where the White Squirrels Are
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I like to be tormented. Anyone who knows me can tell you that. Squirrels are my latest rant. We are infested with them in our yard! Apparently that fat squirrel wasn’t just enjoying the pickings of our compost pile… she was out swinging the cat around a couple months ago and now we have 10…
Catbuses Need Love Too
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I try not to love the internet as much as I do, but there are so many good reasons. Here’s another good reason to check it out. Not only can you buy secondhand things on Craigslist, you can buy all sorts of things you never knew you might not be able to live without.
The Bluest Water
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Colin and I like to travel a lot. When we were overseas, you could find us in a foreign country on any given weekend. Our latest adventure, to the Dominican Republic, was thanks to my brother-in-law Jay and my sister Mary. This was their trip, and they asked us to come along. Mary and I…
What a Writer Looks Like – 2008
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What a Writer Looks Like by me She stares hard at the screen, hands clenched. Just one index finger poised over the arrow key and One fist gripped at her mouth. She reads herself. His ears are wrapped in something – maybe Mozart, maybe Britney Name tag dangling from a shoulder Pen rushing on the…
Variations on a Theme
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“Breakfast in Amsterdam” March 3, 2007
Write-a-Thon 2008 Results!
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I got down with my pen and laptop at the 2008 NY Writers’ Coalition Write-a-Thon yesterday. Here is a sample of some bits I wrote–the RESULTS of the Send me a Writing Idea Competition! (selected by independent judge C. Phillips). Runner Up – T. Mallie! haiku for T. Mallie lace panties annoy the sort of…
Offer Expires at Midnight
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Someone whispered to me this: Today is a one-time deal, Elizabeth. Offer expires at midnight. It’s days before the anniversary of one year in Connecticut and the leaves are still busting out. The forsythia does not bloom forever. I can’t tell you about tomorrow, but for today, I am cashing in on the deal.
You alright?
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John Brandon, the great governor of the Warrington Hotel, was the first English person to truly confuse me with a question. “You alright?” he’d ask, his voice rising up lightly. He was from East London, proper Cockney. His “you alright” was was one of the few things I could actually understand him saying. Except that…
Nowhereland
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It’s dark in here. Yesterday, after the end came, I spotted a soggy tennis ball at the side of the road. It was in the sand, nearby the strip mall, inches away from rushing tires. Miles away from tennis courts, or even miles from the drooling mouth of a happy dog. It gets easier to…
Where My Thoughts Escaping
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I am running back today, to London, for a quick breath. I am looking for my feet and for my friends. For the tiny space of quiet in the corners, and the for the push of the people against my shoulders. I am ready for the dampness and ready for the attention I need to…
Bored Beyond Belief
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Lately, I don’t know what I am doing. I am not so much numb as I have been fiercely holding down my mind, pressing it up against my palm to keep it from straying. I am stopping every other thought… back spacing and deleting it. I am rushing backwards to go over the day, to…
Black Boxes Are Boxes Too
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It’s no secret that the word “box” is slang for “woman.” (if you are under consenting age and you didn’t know that already, ask you parents why, just for fun.) So just to make this post an curious mix of boxy entendres, here’s what happened last night. I had a most pleasant collision of the…
