Putting Pen To Paper

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Untitled Photo Poem


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Friday, August 25, 2006

Behind a Thousand Smiles


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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Making Joy
Are you a natural-born pessimist? Do you struggle just to enjoy your everyday life? If so, I can tell you from personal experience that you are not alone. There is hope for you.

Let me tell you my story…
I’m a natural worrier. I was born worrying. If there was an award for being the best worrywart in the universe that prize would be mine. I worried before my first day of pre-school. I worried before my first day of kindergarten and I continued the tradition before my first days of school for the next 16 years. If my parents wanted me to go shopping or out to eat with them on a Sunday, I’d go along in the morning, but once it got to be later in the afternoon, I couldn’t go. I needed to be focusing my full attention on my anxieties about the upcoming week. And believe me, my worries were not confined to school-related issues. I irrationally worried about everything and anything. To this day I still fight the reflex to carry this habit with me like a dysfunctional friend.

Cultivating a New Way of Life
Some people are just born gloomy and pessimistic. But that does not mean we have to stay that way. So what is the antidote to this miserable way of life? I’ve come to believe that cultivating an ability to experience joy is the answer.

How I came to this realization…
About a year ago I was sitting there wallowing in yet another anxious bout of self-pity and at the same time wondering how I could get more enjoyment out of life. There was nothing special about that particular day because obsessive worrying was something I routinely did. The only thing that made that day unique was that I happened to pick up a copy of the book The Martha Rules by Martha Stewart. Out of the pages of this unlikely source came an answer that I had been searching for.

In this book, Martha talked about teaching herself to cook by studiously preparing each and every recipe in the two volumes of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. That’s over one thousand recipes!

Now I can just hear you saying; "Yah, that’s impressive, but what does Martha’s cooking project have to do with finding an antidote to worry?" Well, at the time I didn’t really know how the two things were related. What I did know for sure was that I somehow needed to apply this concept to my own life.

The Grand Plan
So what exactly would my project be? I had little interest in cooking in general, however baking (or maybe just eating baked goods) did interest me. Up to this point I had been too preoccupied with worry to pursue any other pastimes. Without a doubt, now was the time to do it. I would take a break from my constant worrying just long enough to learn something new and maybe even have some fun in the process. I didn’t know at the time that this new hobby would turn out to be a life saver, it just sounded to me like a pretty good idea.

My plan was to use the Martha Stewart Baking Handbook. I already owned the book for the purpose of drooling over the pictures, but now I would actually use it for it’s intended purpose. I would bake one recipe a week until I had every recipe in the book complete- just like Martha had done with the Julia Child cookbooks.


So how did the project go?
Once I got started, I was hooked. I couldn’t believe how fabulous baking was! Why hadn’t I tried it sooner? Baking was a completely multi-sensory experience. I felt an inexplicable sense of joy every time I sunk my hands into a warm, pliable, ball of dough! Handling a soft, floury square of pastry dough was delightful! The yeasty scent of rising biscuit dough was so tantalizing that it was practically unbearable. Not to mention the joy of eating the fruits of my labor!

I started my baking adventures with some cookie projects. I baked up one batch of cookies after the next, making everything from chewy, sugar-coated, raisin-filled Rugalah to rich, sweet, buttery Shortbread and Peanut Butter Sandwich cookies.

When I got to the pie section of the Baking Handbook I learned how to create melt-in-your-mouth, flaky, pie crusts. I whipped up mouthwateringly delicious pies and tarts from a simple pumpkin pie to a gourmet coconut-lemon-buttermilk tart.

Puff pastry has a reputation for being somewhat difficult and time consuming. Knowing this just added to my sense of accomplishment when my very first puff pastry project, blueberry turnovers, turned out perfectly. They were impeccably light, flaky and delicious- if I do say so myself.

In the end…
Through baking, I created edible works of art, but I got something even more important out of it. I discovered this thing called "enjoying life"- what a concept! Every time I went to pull one of my baked goods out of the oven, I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. I got a taste for a way of life that is far more enjoyable and productive than that of the chronic worrier.

Now, how about you?
If you’re like me and enjoying life does not come naturally for you, there is a simple, painless and in my case delicious cure for this condition; find something that you love to do, that brings you true joy, then practice it often. If the queen of gloom and can turn things around and learn to enjoy life, what’s stopping you?


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3 Comments:

  • Stephanie, thanks for posting your work to PPTP. Please also post comments on our other writers' entries.

    This is a very nice article, and I call it that because it reads like an inspirational magazine article to me. Have you had it published? If not, you should try. I'm sure Martha Stewart must have her own magazine so that would be a good starting point since she was your inspiration.

    I can sympathize with being a natural worrier and your suggestions on how to overcome it by immersing yourself in something delightful, creative, and fulfilling is a worthwhile and excellent solution. I've repressed a lot of my worries in quilting and poetry and can attest to the values of keeping busy.

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/22/2006 11:15:00 PM  

  • Thank you Ruth for reading my article and commenting on it.

    I haven't tried to have the article published yet. I wasn't sure if the format was quite right. That is a good suggestion to try and have it published in one of Martha Stewarts magazines. I'm not sure if it's in the right format/style for that, or if it's good enough, but it would be worth checking out.

    I feel like the article needs a little more work, but I'm not sure what else to do with it at this point.

    By Blogger WeirdWoollyDesigns, at 8/23/2006 10:33:00 AM  

  • Well, I don't know what needs to e added. I might also suggest a venue such as Family Circle or Good Housekeeping, or any of the supermaket magazine rack family/cooking oriented magazines as a publishing possibility. You'll neer know if you don't try. Do you have a Writer's Market book so you can research addresses and guidelines for submissions?

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/23/2006 05:08:00 PM  

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Saturday, August 19, 2006

Skyblue Boredom
Twitch twist turn
Flex bend stretch
Yawn

Cloud mountains
Icy white puffs
A sky of endless
Blue

Engines drone
Hour upon hour
Eat read listen nap
Watch

Time in fast
Forward running
As eastward we fly
On

Babies cry
An old man coughs
Lavatory closed
Wait

Descending
Through cotton balls
Tossed across azure
Skies

Buckled up
Tray is secured
Thirty minutes to
Home

Twitch twist turn
Flex bend stretch
Yawn


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3 Comments:

  • I have to admit that I've read very little poetry and I know next to nothing about it.

    I did enjoy your poem. In very few words it really captured the modern experience of flying. The frustrations & boredom of the experience- yet you weren't whinning about it. You were just stating facts. That's the impression I got anyway.

    For some reason I feel like I do my best thinking/writing in planes. Maybe it has something to do with the altitude?

    By Blogger WeirdWoollyDesigns, at 8/23/2006 10:40:00 AM  

  • The altitude or the attitude possibly... i.e., nothing better to do and lots of interesting people to watch and from whom you may find inspiration.

    I don't normally write anything buy rhyming poetry, but I'm struggling this summer trying to learn to write more non-rhyming pieces. It is a struggle.

    Thank you for taking the time to comment.

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/23/2006 05:12:00 PM  

  • Michael, thanks for your comment. Like I've mentioned before, I'm learning and experimenting with (for me) new areas of poetry, both in form and format. Your comments make sense and are appreciated.

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/24/2006 10:54:00 AM  

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Friday, August 11, 2006

Excalibur (499 words)
Excalibur
By W. David MacKenzie


The doorbell rings and the delivery driver looks me up and down as I take the box he’s holding out, then shakes his head, and strides back to his truck to continue his rounds. I look down at myself and the mat of cat fur stuck to my shirt. I have three cats and they work in concert to make sure I’m covered in cat fur at all times.

As I recline on the sofa, watching TV, Montega feels it is her duty to sit on my sternum and curl up into a fluffy ball and tickle my nose with the hair on her back. If I’m surfing the web at my desk then she jumps up, sits on my keyboard, and rubs her head against my shirt. In each case, she works hard to see that my chest is covered in short white hairs. I lift her up and drop her to the floor, but like a superball made of space-aged plastic, she just bounces back again and again until her job is done.

I’ll be sitting in my chair with the DVD remote in one hand when Mavado decided he wants to be my best buddy. He jumps into my lap and sits on my abdomen, sphinx-like, his bent arms stretching up my chest; his green eyes staring at me until I scratch behind his ears. He’ll close his eyes and enjoy the gentle attention, but as soon as I stop to press a button on the remote his eyes spring open and the staring resumes. If I do this too many times he’ll get annoyed and leave, but his shadowy residue of long black hairs remains on my belly as his calling card.

Tag Heuer, the old, fat, gray cat, has a more aloof approach to my furificaton. His jumping days are long passed, so he’ll climb laboriously up onto the back of the sofa, getting his considerable mass up to the highest possible vantage point. Once atop this plush perch, he’ll stretch his bulk across two full cushion tops and launch his daily salvo. He licks and bites at his course steely hair until tufts of gray fluff, like dandelion seeds, float away to drift on the eddies and breezes of central heating. Like submarine mines bobbing in the Sea of Japan, these fur bombs wait for my passing. Static electric attraction sets them on course when I come into range and they latch on just where I won’t see them but everyone else will.

I take the package to the table, rip off the tape, and open the flaps. My heart soars as I see the twenty-four items inside. Grasping one blue handle firmly, I lift it up like Excalibur. To my eyes it glows with a magical radiance. I tear off the protective cover and roll its sticky surface over my cat-furred shirt. It leaves a path of fur-free cloth in its wake. I have three cats, but now I’m ready for them!


The End


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2 Comments:

  • This essay about my cats has been floating around in my head for almost a week. This morning I wrote it down. Please feel free to comment or critque as you like. This might be something I could get published in pet magazine or maybe a humor magazine. Maybe you have some ideas on where I might try.

    By Blogger WDavid, at 8/11/2006 10:21:00 AM  

  • It's very funny.

    By Blogger Fred MacKenzie, at 8/13/2006 09:28:00 AM  

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Sunday, August 06, 2006

Dad's Visit
Dad's Visit
by W. David MacKenzie
592 Words


A sense of warmth washed through the room and I smiled at the sound of my father's voice.

"You're making wonderful progress on the renovation, Son."

I looked up from the drum table I was sanding to see my father's face in the large mirror that hung on the wall directly in front of me. "Thanks, Dad. I always enjoyed watching you in the shop when I was a kid."

"I'm glad you kept it up."

"Well, I was a klutz in shop class, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of things, now." My father's face in the mirror smiled and I resumed my repetitive push and pull action with the sanding block. "When I moved in, I found the old lighthouse keeper's tool chest in the caisson room downstairs. Talk about some vintage tools."

"I'm surprised they weren't all rusted away."

"Not a chance. Each one was wrapped in its own oilcloth. They were clean as a whistle and they're a dream to use, even after being forgotten for fifty years."

"That guy knew how to take care of his tools." Dad said.

I pausedaten there.

Places like this little piece of France are what the Lower East Side is most loved for. Unfortunately, so many small places are being squeezed out. Grilled Cheese, formerly on Ludlow, bit the dust, some say due to rising rents, which we all know have become outrageously expensive.
The term is "gentrification." A Prime example of this is the Essex Street Market with new construction looming over it. Up, up up! Glossy, colorful, new, putting the squeeze on what has been....time for change.
l, new, putting the squeeze on what has been....time for change.


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  • The last assignment of the class I'm taking at UW was to write a story that was almost totallly dialogue. "Dad's Visit" is the result. Irt is another chapter in my "The Path" story which you'll find over on That Looks Like A Story.

    http://thatlookslikeastory.blogspot.com/2006/07/writerrific-1-assignment-6.html

    I don;t know if that long link will work, so here's a shorter one.

    http://thatlookslikeastory.blogspot.com/

    All comments and critigues are welcomed. I turn this on at 7pm on Aug 7th.

    By Blogger WDavid, at 8/06/2006 04:45:00 PM  

  • David, this is an exciting glimpse into what this story might one day be. I do think there needs to be more story between the original "Path" and this "Dad's Visit".. you know, how did he first contact his dad there after he bought the lighthouse and how he came to grips with that. This story makes it feel quite commonplace for them to meet there, but how did they get to that point? And how did he learn that pounding on the table would send the spirits away? When Dad says "protect yourself", I half expected him to hold up a cross like warding off a vampire or something, but apparently pounding on the table was enough to do it? It felt like there should have been something more involved there... like there could be a lot more action in this scene if it were allowed to grow to its full potential.

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/06/2006 04:54:00 PM  

  • I like it Dave. So, what does aaron have to save his father from?

    By Blogger Fred MacKenzie, at 8/06/2006 05:01:00 PM  

  • Ruth...Thanks for the kind comments. Oh yes, there's a good bit more between the end of "The Path" and the start of "Dad's Visit". I think it's lurking around in my brain somewhere now. The last two weeks have been a desert for my creativity and I'd almost given up on this assignment altogether, but here at the last minute I got an idea and dashed this off in a couple of hours. That's lightning-fast for me.

    Since this assignment was for a "dialogue only" story I purposfully left out a lot of detail. Even so, it kind of got naration heavy toward the end. I'll need to flesh this out a bit more for actual inclusion in the story, but I DO LIKE the bones of this piece. I like the ghosts lurking in the mirror instead of floating around in our world. I see the mirrors as windows on our world through which the spirits can watch us.

    It really is interesting what people read into a story...or maybe what we write into a story subconsciously. The drumming on the table was only to drown out the wails of the dark spirits. It was never intended as "protection" but now that it's there and you've pointed it out, I like the idea. Perhaps rhythmic basso sounds disrupt their power in some way. Perhaps the table he's working on is specially designed to resonnate for this reason. I really do need a writing partner to help with my creativity. Thanks for being there for me. :-)

    By Blogger WDavid, at 8/06/2006 07:35:00 PM  

  • Fred...Thanks. Glad you enjoyed the piece.

    According to real history, three or four coastguardsmen died in 1942 when there were changing lighthouse keepers. I haven't been able to find out any details, but I assume there was some freak storm or something. In the story, perhaps there was an entire ship that perished. In any event, these spirits have been very angry at their condition and it was, in fact, they who caused the father's death in "The Path".

    Since then, his grascious and peaceful spirit has been a calming influence to them, but now that the lighthouse is once again occupied their anger is growing and being surrounded by all that hate and fear is taking a toll on Aaron's dad's spirit. Before this scene and after, there will probably be scenes that show the dad losing his temper with Aaron or manifesting some minor destruction in the real world...something out of character. A spirit with enough anger and hate and fear will be able to cross through the mirror and cause trouble in our world. So, Aaron has to save his dad's spirit from the influences of the others and probably set him free to go on to heaven. He also has to work to save himself and probably his mom (somehow I just have to get her to the lighthouse) from any spirits that manage to breech the mirror.

    How does that sound? Not bad for making a lot of it up on the fly. :-)

    By Blogger WDavid, at 8/06/2006 07:45:00 PM  

  • Ruth...I went in a reworded the drumming to spell out what was happening.

    Fred...I caught a misspelled word that you missed. Horse should have been hoarse. I've corrected it now. :-)

    By Blogger WDavid, at 8/06/2006 08:08:00 PM  

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Friday, August 04, 2006

Character descriptions...
These 2 descriptions were generated from a clustering excercise. I REALLY like clustering. I wish I'd remember to do it more often.

William Stout
William Stout was a sharp blade of a man. His sneering maw was cut in shadow by a bony beak and eyes set dead like a sniper's. Each step, like the parry of a sword. Each change of direction a hairpin turn with no girth to slow him down. The memory of him is like the nagging of a paper cut. My breath, drawn slow like the steady plunger of a syringe, waits for fate to turn its head before striking. Dreading the voice that would assault me like a rifle. My father's voice. The voice that would cut me, surely as a knife.


Orin Mills
Orin Mills was a hard chisled man. Stout, solid as the earth. As steady and unchanging as the silent forest. His muscles were like molten steel. Bending, stretching, molding to the shape of his hammering bones. A block of flesh, more sculpture than man. His voice, as startling and rough as a rockslide, could carve wisdom out of dead air.


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4 Comments:

  • Penitentman...What is Clustering? How does it work? What are the benefits and drawbacks?

    By Blogger WDavid, at 8/04/2006 12:24:00 PM  

  • The first I'd seen it was in a book called "Writing the Natural Way."

    The author's website talks about the process here: http://www.gabrielerico.com/Main/ClusteringSampleVignettes.htm

    The words I clustered around for these 2 pieces were "sharp" and "hard".

    By Blogger penitentman, at 8/04/2006 12:52:00 PM  

  • Hmm... so that link didn't seem to work right, at least for me. Let's try this:

    LINK

    By Blogger penitentman, at 8/04/2006 01:20:00 PM  

  • An interesting process.

    In William Stout, I note that sentences 3 and 4 have no verb. Can they stand alone like that, or should they have been phrases separated by commas or semicolons in the previous sentence?

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/04/2006 05:04:00 PM  

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Thursday, August 03, 2006

Taken For A Ride
Oh, great!

Jack and Susan are coming over again.

Does Jenny think I am blind? Stupid? I see the way she looks at him. It used to happen only when she thought I wasn't looking. But lately Jenny has become more and more obvious. Doesn't Susan notice too?

Jenny and I have been together for ten years. I thought I could have held her interest for longer, but to be honest, I am getting a little tired of her too. All that nagging, she finds it necessary to repeat everything she says to me several times. Jenny never shows me any affection. Maybe I should just leave.

The doorbell rings and in walks Jack and Susan. I don't bother to get up from my chair in front of the television. What does Jenny see in him anyway? Yeah, Jack is younger than I am, but he isn't especially good looking, and he always has bad breath.

There she goes again! Jenny is giving Jack a big hug, a little too long if you ask me. Hello! I am right here! Oh, man. I can't take this anymore. I get up and walk out the front door before it closes.

I hear Susan ask, "What's wrong with Max?" The door closes before I can hear Jenny's response.

I just keep walking and don't look back. Yeah, leaving here is painful, but it passes quickly.

After about a mile of walking along the road a Jeep Wrangler pulls beside me and stops. I recognise Jenny's friend Rachel.

"Max, where are you going?", she asks.

I just smile at her dumbly.

"Get in Max, let's go for a ride."

I can't refuse an offer like that. I have always liked Rachel. She has the nicest hair I have ever seen and she always smells great. If I get lucky, maybe she will take me back to her place.

As we drive down the road, Rachel makes a call on her cell phone.

"Hi Jenny. I just found Max walking along the road," Rachel says and pauses, looking at me. "Yeah, he's still wearing his Invisible Fence collar. Ok, see ya soon."

NO NO NO

"Max, you silly dog," Rachel says, scratching my head. "I'll take you home so you can play with Jack."

Oh, great!


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9 Comments:

  • Hey Fred...Good job. I think you handled Max's personality very well.

    The only change I'd suggest is picking a different name for Jenny or Jack. Two J names had me a little confused at first.

    As for a title, how about "Enough Is Enough"?

    I think I figured it out when Rachel said "Let's go for a ride".

    One of my classmates wrote a very similar story a couple of weeks ago. Jimmy was lost in the woods and couldn't find his mommy. He met a couple in the park and then wandered away from them when they started arguing about whetheror not they should try to help him. He met a scary man in a white van who offered him a cookie but he ran away from the stranger. Then he finally found his way home to mom only to have "mom" scratch behind his ear and put his food dish down on the floor where he could get it. Yup, Jimmy was a puppy.

    By Blogger WDavid, at 8/03/2006 07:22:00 PM  

  • That was good Fred. I even reread the invisible collar thing twice and was thinking what kind of S&M story is this before I read the dog part!!

    By Blogger PeggySueO, at 8/03/2006 07:40:00 PM  

  • What a cute read and funny too! I was all set to start making suggestions about how this guy should maybe have a different speech pattern or something to make it read a little better... Then I found out this guy is a dog! So who knows how a dog thought/speak sounds anyway? It didn't occur to be until the second reading why leaving home was so painful. It wasn't the breaking heart of leaving, it was the pain of breaking through the invisible fence! You got me on this one. Good job!

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/03/2006 08:06:00 PM  

  • Haha, this is great Fred!

    So many hints tied in there and still a surprise.

    Well done!

    By Blogger penitentman, at 8/04/2006 12:05:00 PM  

  • Yes -- I thought this story was going somewhere else too -- couldn't wait to see if Rachel was taking Max home :)))

    re: Title... that's got me scratching my head -- how about "The Ride Home".

    By Blogger Peter, at 8/05/2006 07:36:00 PM  

  • How about "Taken for a ride"?

    A fitting double-meaning.

    By Blogger penitentman, at 8/06/2006 03:41:00 PM  

  • Thanks everyone for all the positive feedback, and for the title suggestions as well.

    Still thinking about it though.

    By Blogger Fred MacKenzie, at 8/06/2006 04:53:00 PM  

  • Great story - love the surprise ending. I agree, Jack and Jenny was a little confusing. But that was great!!

    i like "the Ride Home" as a title.

    By Blogger Barbara White, at 8/07/2006 07:31:00 PM  

  • I've decided on Taken For A Ride. Thank you penitentman.

    By Blogger Fred MacKenzie, at 8/11/2006 05:11:00 PM  

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Haikus
Life is very hard
Time for a new beginning
But where do I start

I enjoy my job
In accounts receivable
Other times I don’t


Traditional
Looking up in the sky
White fluffy clouds on deep blue
Peaceful creation

Crystal blue water
It’s creation at it’s best
Cannot get enough

Snow covered mountains
So purely white and gentle
They reach to heaven

Sparkles in the sun
Dark green wet grass is shining
At the soccer field


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2 Comments:

  • Barbara, these are good for a beginner. You will need to stay focused on the syllable count though. The first traditional haiku has six syllables in the first line instead of five. Perhaps it might be written:

    Look up to the sky

    What do you think?

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/03/2006 10:08:00 AM  

  • Oh, you are right. I didn't even notice that. And some words it is hard to tell how many syllables they have. I can't think of an example right now. Anyway, I'll try to write some more this weekend.

    By Blogger Barbara White, at 8/03/2006 07:05:00 PM  

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Wednesday, August 02, 2006

The New Neighbors

I was surprised when I looked out the window this morning...
hanging olive tree
there was a tree hanging in the sky. It was doubly strange because I have lived in San Francisco a long time, and I thought I had already seen everything. But, obviously, I haven't.

I know my head can get a little big at times, so an occasional reminder like this is good for me. After all, it has been a good three weeks since the last reminder, when my neighbor drove up in his "new" BMW Vixen motorhome. Surely you can imagine that somebody who has already seen everything might be scratching his head about that one. What the hell is that!? There were just 600 of these built, back in the '80s. I took photos. had a long conversation with my neighborBMW Vixen with parking ticket
BMW Vixen
about it, and now I'm an expert on BMW Vixens too.

We all love San Francisco, but there are things we hate: It took the parking police just three hours to cite the Vixen for a parking violation. You'd think they could cut a vehicle like that some well deserved slack.  After all, it exists, here on this spot on Telegraph Hill, which has never ever seen anything like this before, and will probably never ever do so again.

But, rest assured, I expect no Moving Trees
car stuck under tree
parking police this morning. Even if the street is completely clogged by flat bed trucks double parked on the street carrying 70 year old olive trees. It is a great day for San Francisco: we lost all our trees when the city burned down in 1906, and we never really bothered restoring them, we just paved the city over instead. Nobody is going to complain about the new neighbors. Well almost nobody.

One neighbor, quite idiotically, tried to pass a truck. She tore a branch off a tree and scratched up her car in the process. Then she got jammed, and made an even bigger mess backing out.

Hey -- this is a city... these trucks belong on a farm -- how am I supposed to know how to drive with something like that on the street!?!? 

I'm sure the truck drivers wished they were on a farm... they had to back out to make their way home.

Any good know-it-all will tell you more is better, so yours truly wasted no time getting out on the street. I took photos, interviewed the landscape architect that ordered them, Olive Trees
transplanted olive trees
and now I'm an expert on transplanting olive trees too. I did know they were olive trees, or should I admit, I figured it out. There were olives everywhere, the street had black stains where they got smushed. Has to be olive trees, right? I'm told they're all female trees, so there won't be any olives shedding onto our sidewalks in the years to come. But we have a big mess on the street today.

The trees are being installed as part of a renovation. It's the $7 million mansion at the corner -- first listed for a whopping $14 million back during the Dot Com boom. The place was on the market for years -- everyone on the block was saying they'd buy it if they could only win the lottery. It's finally been bought, and the new owners are spending millions more on renovations.  Now they have a Mediterranean style grove of olive trees screening in their privacy.

It's incredible, the trees are beautiful, and this time I'm sure I've seen it all.


 

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4 Comments:

  • Well -- I used the tree picture again -- but it's not a story about chinatown -- that story is still running around in circles in my head.

    As usual -- the feedback I'd like to get is what you liked and didn't like about the story.

    /p

    By Blogger Peter, at 8/02/2006 01:25:00 PM  

  • What I didn't like:
    What I did like: Everything, only I might like to know more about the Vixen... maybe another story, eh? I've never heard of that vehicle.

    I particularly liked that I get to point out a misspelled word in your story this time... "doubley" should be "doubly". Gee that felt good! But then I got caught up in watching olive trees being planted and crashed into by a crazy female driver and forgot to look for any other typos, etc. Guess there must not have been any ;-)))

    And you know what? I really doubt that you've seen everything yet!

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/02/2006 04:59:00 PM  

  • Ruth... tx ... re: the vixens... there's a fan site for vixens here: http://www.vixenrv.org/ -- the left side of the roof tilts up, so it is possible to stand inside one of these things. It also has a full bathroom inside!!!!!
    /p

    By Blogger Peter, at 8/03/2006 10:04:00 AM  

  • I like this one alot. I think it all fits together nicely. I like that you use the photos.

    By Blogger Fred MacKenzie, at 8/04/2006 12:02:00 PM  

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Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Workshop Exercise
The assignment, briefly, was to imagine that someone was speaking to you from beyond the grave in the first piece, and then to respond to that person in the second piece, in whatever form we chose.

Forget

Why do you cry
for me
a spirit gone
from earth?
No more in
chains,
I rise
to freedom.
Go out from here
no more
to walk in shadows.
Forget.
No longer
remember with
eyes closed tight
to squelch
the tears.
Stop,
hold
close
what is now.
Awake to today!

Lucille,

Don’t ask me to forget
for there is still time yet
to remember.

I did not live your life,
was not mother, was not wife.
I’ve only heard

The tales your children tell
and it would not bode well
to think they lie.

But still I cry in sympathy
and feel for you in empathy
and cannot bear

The knowing of how you lived
or how you ever could forgive
such injustice.

Do not ask me not to cry
or ask me not to wonder why
life must go on

In constant repetition
repeating its only known rendition
of sadness sans joy.

Look down from where your spirit roams
to those you’ve left here all alone
and cry for us.

Don't ask us to forget
for there is still time yet
to remember.


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click to post a comment or read comments from: Blogger Ruth, Blogger Peter, Blogger PeggySueO, Blogger Fred MacKenzie,

4 Comments:

  • Today I went to a new poetry group in Crystal River, FL. Part of the program was the exercise I just posted here. It was "an approach to the persona poem and the dramatic monologue". We had ten minutes to complete each section. Again, (as some of you have read on another blog) I chose to write about Lucille, my husband's mother who recently passed. So tell me what you think of these quickly produced pieces. All comments welcome.

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/01/2006 04:23:00 PM  

  • I think they're excellent!!!!

    And excellent advice... don't ask me to forget, as there is still time to remember.

    Indeed -- I've only lost 3 people close to my heart -- they all left in a big bang 20 years ago, but still I find myself in awe about how those three continue to influence my life.

    By Blogger Peter, at 8/02/2006 12:56:00 PM  

  • I think for 10 minutes of forced writing, they are very good. I can't imagine someone saying to just come up with 2 poems and do it in the next 10 minutes!!!

    By Blogger PeggySueO, at 8/02/2006 09:36:00 PM  

  • I agree with Peter and Peggy. They are excellent and I don't know how you can do that in ten minutes. Maybe, if you already had these running through your head. But otherwise too much pressure.

    By Blogger Fred MacKenzie, at 8/04/2006 02:07:00 PM  

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Silly Rhymes...
Ok, Ruth, you said you wanted to see some rhymes... you may regret it.
Here's 2, just to show you a sampling as my themes tend to revolve around a... uh... particular type of humor...


The Ace Up My Sleeve

Alone I sit in my private place
My pants around my knees
When at the door I hear a knock
And someone's deadened pleas.

The thing they want is mine for now
The ace that's up my sleeve.
I say that it might be awhile
And they drop down to their knees.

They say that I must hurry now
I say I'll take my time
And that is when I realize
The power is all mine.

So here I sit in my private place
My pants around my knees
I think I'll flush the toilet once


Just to be a tease.



Hairshorts

Today I formed
the grandest plan
ever conceived
by mortal man

For in the summer
I get so hot
I don't want to wear
these clothes I've bought

And in the winter
I get such a chill
(as evidenced by my
'lectricity bill)

I need cover in summer
but it can't be too warm
and extra heat in the winter
to weather the storm

My plan, you see
is just common sense
considering the fact
that my leg hair's so dense

I'll shave off the hair
from my knees to my toes
thus saving myself
from these seasonal woes

In summer I'll run naked
but covered "down there"
with a well tended forest
of curly brown hair

The shavings, I'll use
to line winter clothes
though I will need some help...
perhaps someone who sews

Great things are invented
by men of all sorts
but it took a man of vision
to invent these hair-shorts


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click to post a comment or read comments from: Blogger Ruth, Blogger Fred MacKenzie, Blogger Peter, Blogger PeggySueO,

4 Comments:

  • The Ace Up My Sleeve - What a neat "power" piece! I just had to laugh as my husband used to live in a house with four children, he and his wife, and one bathroom. I would find it hard to exist with two people and one bathroom! I can just see his son sitting there with the girls outside begging for entrance... and flushing "just to be a tease". That is SO Michael.

    As an assistant administrator here, David sends me the membership requests to read, so I had the pleasure of reading that piece before you posted it here. An advance giggle so to speak. I'm so glad you gave everyone the opportunity to see it.

    Hair Shorts - I like this piece too, but with reservations. I love the cadence of the first stanza. It would be good if the whole piece had the same cadence throughout, but I tried copying it into Word and rewriting it, and could not do it myself throughout the entire piece.

    I think there are many unnecessary words which could be cut, however, to bring the whole piece into a better flowing form, such as...

    "I need cover in summer
    but it can't be too warm
    and extra heat in the winter
    to weather the storm"

    I think that stanza could be dropped completely as you've covered that concept in the previous two stanzas.

    If you want to see my complete rewrite of this poem, let me know and I'll email it to you. If you're like me and sometimes don't want other people messing with your work, you can say that too.

    I hope some of this may be of use to you.

    By Blogger Ruth, at 8/01/2006 04:58:00 PM  

  • I don't care about cadence and all that stuff. They were hilarious! Give me some more:)

    By Blogger Fred MacKenzie, at 8/01/2006 07:29:00 PM  

  • very entertaining... that ace up my sleeve should definitely go in the PPTP hall of fame -- I thought that was heading in a completely different direction.

    Hair shorts I wasn't as fond of... though that's quite a whacko visual you've dreamed up there... shorts made out of short hairs! I'm cringing just a little.

    By Blogger Peter, at 8/02/2006 01:03:00 PM  

  • I thought the first one was very cute!! Didn't really get much out of the second one.

    By Blogger PeggySueO, at 8/02/2006 09:45:00 PM  

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