Tag Archives: creative writing

19. The Kavorka: either you have it or you don’t

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As an admirer of the Seinfeld series, I have watched each episode over and over again; I am never bored. Seinfeld’s genius lies in his ability to view human nature and reflect it, with all its silliness and inadequacies, through the use of a marvelous ensemble cast. Seinfeld manages to weave several mini-themes throughout each main theme, which can best be described as a game of trivial pursuit. But it fascinates us because we all can see ourselves playing out the same ridiculous situations, or perhaps we just like to laugh along—at ourselves. As I was eating dinner this evening, … Continue reading →

14. Charmed. I’m Sure

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originally posted 4/12/07 Bloggers and Bloggettes; This morning as I was brushing my teeth my day’s idea came to me. I write in many different forms. One is in silver. This is my story. One day in the early 1950’s, my parents took me on a subway ride to the Bronx (one of the 5 “boroughs of New York City: Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, Staten Island, and Manhattan are the five boroughs and are largely residential.”) Part of the train ride is elevated and it is a kick for a young child to kneel backwards in her seat and look … Continue reading →

84. Poetry: To Be Or Not To Be

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Evolution ©5/1/07 all rights reserved by author BANG!   Birth. Fire. Water. Earth. Cretaceous, spacious, bodacious, dearth– Buds, plants, pollen; cries  for bees, moths, butterflies.  Homosapiens: planters, farmers, sowers,  buzzers, flying, busy, growers;  Petals, stamens, pistols, honey; Hives, harvest, workers; money–   Cell phones ringing? GPS?  Fly too high like Icarus?  Hives are empty, won’t be long: barren fields, dry and wan, sunspots? warming? global spawn? Look again, the bees are gone. On Einstein’s earth: years left there’s four– once the bees are nevermore.  Bang. Comments (7 total) Post a Comment redhe… Offline IM How lovely, how true, and how very … Continue reading →

50. Poetry: The Light Side: Married life

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Rob and Sue Inc. Well blogerinas and blogerinos, today is another special day. Yesterday was my 2 month blogaversary (as Kari would appropriately call it) and today, well, it was 31 years ago that your Sans Souci married Mr. Sans Souci. It’s a day of celebration and gratitude. Relationships ain’t easy and marriage certainly isn’t either, but if a couple can last and not kill eachother, that’s a good sign. And if they produce a good kid, it’s even better. We did. And the good kid goes to a good school that requires good money, and Mr., who is rightfully … Continue reading →

32. Poetry: Blue Cheese

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Lunacy ©2002     original post 5/7/07   I The butter moon Waits to be spread Across the sky, Now black bread. For brief moments, The view will last, My eyes fill with this bright repast. And then with hunger, My heart does long, And bite by bite, The moon is gone. II Hughs, Plath: Wrath. Rivera, Kahlo: Halo. Rodin, Claudell: Hell. Man on the moon. I am so cold.   ””” Comments (9 total) Post a Comment Lex Offline I think I just lost again in the poetry. Am I that bad? Tuesday May 8, 2007 – 05:20am (ICT) … Continue reading →

146 b. How and why: The story behind the vintage ice cream wagon charm: Why I write in silver

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Memories translate to words and charms.           And here is why. See the little ice cream cart? I’ll take you on a journey to 1959.   8 CommentsChronological Reverse Threaded reply aladybug wrote on Jan 27, ’08, edited on Jan 27, ’08 I don’t see the ice cream cart… I see pans, one open, one closed, then something else I can’t identify, then a woman in an exercise machine (perhaps just my perception?), then a round object, a hot dog, and then… something else I can’t identify either… Am I crazy? reply aladybug wrote on Jan … Continue reading →

44. NonFiction: 1. Branches and Leaves (4 parts)

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Written years ago.  Some things live on in other ways. Some people remain in memory, and for a moment, in that memory, the past continues.             Original Introduction I wrote this story last year (the summer of 2006) after a jolt from the universe; like everything I write, it is based on experience. It is about love and loss. I had a very dear friend who I actually never met in person, but we had a sweet platonic friendship from afar; we were on the same wavelength, enjoyed many of the same things, helped and … Continue reading →

45. NonFiction: 2. Branches and Leaves (4 parts)

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Ok, do you see where this might be leading? Groovy. There was marijuana growing in big pots under grow lights in my attic—we were in the upstairs apartment so we lucked out with the extra space. My husband, who was seemingly untouchable at the time, decided to plant the stuff, to the dismay of my weak ego-ed self, and supply the neighborhood. Little trees grew everywhere you looked. Aluminum foil reflected green. There were rows of pot plants in their little pot cribs ready for the harvest. I thought my husband was the love of my life until he started … Continue reading →

46. NonFiction: 3. Branches and Leaves (4 parts)

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In 1974 I left the Bronx, and Bruno, in his garage-living room. Left the fear of his banging on the ceiling behind, and bought an apartment in Queens; my husband was already a year or more into an illness, and at 28 he knew hospital walls well. He wasn’t with me for the move. He wasn’t there to help pack, carry, support, or transit. The van came, he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was dying. What did young people in their 20’s know or understand? Beyond peace, love, and Bill Withers in 100 degree heat in Central Park. What concerns could … Continue reading →

47. NonFiction: 4. Branches and Leaves (4 parts)

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I forgot to mention that at the base of the tree there was a thumb-size sprout, fragile looking, with several leaves giving the world a good fight. It must have taken to life when an orange dropped and I left it on the soil. I knew it was there but never focused on, it or gave it credibility. I dug at it with a trowel and the roots were strong and deep. I had to poke down into the huge pot to enable the tiny plant its freedom. I tore some roots in the process and was awed by its … Continue reading →

[58.] The WTC Blogs: 1. Windows On The World

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The world, and how it was. 9/11 Memorial series originally posted on Yahoo 9/07       Introduction to The WTC Blogs In the early ’70s, from the classroom window where I taught, I watched as the World Trade Center started to peek above the buildings in my view. Gradually it ascended, higher and higher, two towers that became beacons, compasses, lighthouses.They were gigantic. Unless you’ve been to New York City, it is impossible to imagine how they loomed over everything, how they called to you. How you could take them for granted.They weren’t gorgeous, not in the minds of … Continue reading →

[59.] The WTC Blogs: 2. Audio Walking Tour: a thousand pictures from the sound

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“A picture is worth a thousand words.” I will give you the sounds– from them you will have a thousand pictures. Today I am posting the World Trade Center walking tour of Paul Auster, who is a New York City poet and screenwriter.   “In the aftermath of September 11, 2001, Auster added his distinct and original voice to NPR’s Peabody Award-winning Sonic Memorial Project, a nationwide collaboration that came together to chronicle and commemorate the life and history of the World Trade Towers. Now, from the vantage point of Ground Zero, Paul Auster leads us through streets and time … Continue reading →

[60.] The WTC Blogs: 3. The Names~Billy Collins, U.S. Poet Laureate

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The Names by Billy Collins, United States Poet Laureate 06 September 2002, New York photo taken from the roof of his school, 9/12/01 by Mr. Souci; you can still see the smoke . Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night. A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze, And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows, I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened, Then Baxter and Calabro, Davis and Eberling, names falling into place As droplets fell through the dark. Names printed on the ceiling of the night. Names slipping around a … Continue reading →

[61.] The WTC Blogs: 4. Personal Response: The Aftermath

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. . . . . . . . . . . . The Falling Man No one is sure who he is, but it is believed he was a worker from Windows on the World; he was one of many who fell or chose to jump to avoid the inferno I The morning of September 11 I awoke from a dream, a strange dream. It was later than I would normally rise; I was on a teaching sabbatical and taking courses during the ’01 and ’02 school year. It was wonderful not having to get up at the usual 5:15 … Continue reading →

49. Freddy Osborn, Kansas City, 1936 Part II

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Yesterday I mentioned that something caught me at that exhibit and didn’t let me go; there were several front pages of  The New York Times   from 1936.  The first grabbed me, the second one hit me.  Here is the previous post. The pages both had large articles about Robert Moses opening a new swimming pool. However, on the first, in the lower left corner, was the following news: Hitler had decided that his army should no longer wear blue, the color of past oppression; hence, the Nazi regime decided to switch to green. And then I thought: if I could … Continue reading →

6. What’s Left Of Me

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I am a righty. Have always been. There is nothing I can do with my left hand that is anywhere near what I can do with my right. So it was strange when my left elbow locked, just barely noticeably angled from where it should be. It wouldn’t release. This happened maybe 5 years ago. A visit to the chiropractor; he took me by the hand and jolted my arm, and me, like he was pumping water to the desert. After I put my eyes back into my head, I looked at my arm. It hadn’t budged. (My shoulder approached … Continue reading →

27. It’s An Avatar World

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I woke up this morning at 4:00 A.M. with my brain burning.I never give in to the writing process when I am semi conscious; I usually just lie in bed and think and lose some of my best ideas to the sunrise. Today was different; this time I got up and wrote on paper instead of my pillow. It takes me a while to run with an idea; the seed is planted by a sentence I’ve heard, something I’ve seen, whether it be a strand of music, or a strand of hair on a brush. Eventually it all comes together, … Continue reading →