Quiet

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the un-decibel.
so silent it hums.
what isn’t.
right before the storm.
that falling, grasping, shhh.
when the mind has slowed.
the breath has caught.
a glacier melting not groaning yet.
not fracturing or breaking.
or crashing.
not sighing or even exhaling.
yet.
what lands between two beats.
goes undetected.
disappears when the foot falls.

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Flash Fiction is Back: “Victorious” (100)

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The photo inspiration for Friday Fictioneers

The photo inspiration for Friday Fictioneers

For what it was worth, she had won. As if siphoning life through competition, breathing in victory like oxygen, and being the one who stood at the regal apex were enough to justify any means. Of course, having passed the figurative tortoise, she was now standing cold on the pavement, watching her brother cross a different sort of finish line, family in tow.

The thought was commonplace; a holiday reflection prompted by a chance sighting. Laughter. What it would mean to have lost the salary and gained something else – something normal, unquantifiable.

And yet, she had no time for nonsense.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple and explore the Friday Fictioneers.

To Dream of Jungles

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I am one of those people who likes to talk about dreams. Although I don’t tend to weight them too heavily in making life decisions, I like thinking about what they mean — I like the idea that dream interpretation could have significance, that our inner lives might actually be reflected there with some relevance to our conscious lives.

Recently, I’ve been unpacking and sorting through the stuff/clothes/junk I’ve accumulated over the six years since I graduated from high school. A couple of nights ago, I had a dream among the tins of old broken jewelry and perfume samples, I found a stash of green onions and broccoli, which was obviously of some concern given that these things have been packed away for a good amount of time. My interpretation? It’s time to use the green onions in the refrigerator that I bought for making peanut sauce about a week ago. It’s time. And I might be craving and increased broccoli intake.

Then last night, I stayed out late with old friends and when I got home, I almost fell asleep before falling into bed, which is definitely dangerous. Sleeping standing up is uncommonly difficult and I’m pretty sure the dangers are similar to those of having seizures or fainting suddenly.

This morning I woke up dreaming that I had been employed to design jungles — yes, like the Amazonian things in the arena of the equator where it is hot and sweaty. My job was to create jungle space everywhere. (An overwhelming task given my complete lack of jungle-building knowledge and also, in my dream, the apparent resistance of most communities to the artificial creation of jungles in their neighborhoods.) I think this might be a sign that I’m concerned about global warming. In addition, it might be related to some job search anxiety and my sense that I am underqualified for a variety of the jobs to which I’m currently applying.

Either way, I’m enjoying the dreams. Keep ’em coming, subconscious. And I will draw a picture of a jungle for the twins.

(Rules for) Living Life on the Lime (337)

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A. Do not be afraid to take a break.

  1. From anything. Seriously, from running or writing or being really strict with yourself on that diet. Or whatever.
  2. For real. But don’t do anything extreme. Taking a break is good as long as it doesn’t result in extreme unhealthy life conditions.
  3. Ok, so #2 was probably obvious, but I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s bad decision-making as a result of unclear advice.

B. Working 90-100 hours per week is possible.

C. Over-attachment to one’s mobile device is unhealthy.

D. The best non-caffeinated beverage at Starbucks is the venti soy Refresh tea misto.

  1. “Refresh” is mint. Yum.
  2. Second best is in the frapuccino section. Probably green tea.

E. Running in the rain is not nearly as unpleasant as you might imagine, unless you run without key items like headbands to cover your cold ears or a water proof jacket or an episode of This American Life to listen to on your i-pod.

  1. Radio Lab is a reasonable substitute when you run out of This American Life.
  2. Headphones are also important.
  3. And a grandiose pancake breakfast afterwards.

F. If you have two-year-old twins for your niece and nephew, it may be a good idea to take them to Trader Joe’s because they have baby carts there.

  1. It may also be a good idea to pick apples with them and find them lots of books at thrift stores and it is very important that you know about bath time and bike riding.

Keep pumpkins on the mind, too.

Soliloquy: Utterance by a person talking to herself oblivious to present hearers

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When I suddenly ceased to blog, I had written 337 posts.

It was something of an impulsive decision, the way some people get tattoos. I thought about it, but then suddenly, boom!, no more blog (or ink permanently injected into the skin) and that was that. Although this is a decision, unlike tatting up, that is easily reversed. I could keep blogging. It might even be good for me. An exercise in continued continuous writing. The point, I think, is that the blog serves it’s purpose: it gets me to write when otherwise I would not. Sometimes I even edit.

In any case, here I am, writing some rather self-indulgent soliloquies on my blog.

I think it might be time to write some rules, or a list of something. I’m good at that. I’m also looking at alternative blog theme backgrounds, so um, if you have any free wordpress preferences/recommendations, there are a few of you regulars who could really influence this decision.

Ars Poetica: Homecoming

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So I write madly
ushering the words out of my fingertips
no need for rain like shard of ice outside.
It’s already cold.
I’m already imagining tea
and one of the quilts my grandmother
spotted in the bins at Goodwill
promptly forgot
and spotted again.
An aged mind
not like good wine
but a constant inspiration
about the tragedy of a life long lived.

So I write
consider the consequences
of particular observations
and line break to remind myself
that I was a poet
once.

Whatever this is,
it is reentry
not a flourish.
Surely, I am pleased with myself;
homecomings are a pleasure.