Almost Over

22 hours ago at the witching hour I went to bed wondering what I would slice about today.

17 hours ago I woke up wondering what was I going to slice about today.

Fourteen and a half hours ago I walked out of Starbucks, on my way to work, with all hopes dashed of anything of interest happening for me to slice about today.

Ditto for the next coffee run, the lunch run and the I’m done for the day run at twelve, eight and a half, and five hours ago respectively.

Walked out of the movie theater an hour and a half ago with the same wonder still unanswered

And now an hour and a half before a new witching hour I stare at the blinking cursor and wonde…

Hmmm, not wondering any more…
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Desperate times, desperate posts?

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

#SOL2017

Check out the more thoughtful slices for what’s left of this Thursday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 30

Discretion Is… 

Spoiled is walking into my local Starbucks and not having my name called out when my order is ready. I nod returning the baristas’ smiles in greeting as they acknowledge my presence upon entering. Once D and M, with my coffee and breakfast sandwich respectively, see my name on the label they each walk over to their side of the counter closest to where I stand and hand my order directly to me. I hoist my purchase in thanks to each as they laugh at my serious head-banging to the music my iPod. The final notes of The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” is clearly not the mellow tune regaling the customers over the store’s speakers at that moment.  Still, I overhear this cheeky college girl near me talking with a friend, “Check out She Who Shall Not Be Named.”

I slowly turn my head and smile, letting her know I heard. I think I smile charmingly,

Tom Hiddleston, normal smile

Tom Hiddleston, normal smile

but considering I have not had time to indulge in my coffee yet, it is very likely it came off as menacingly, for she blinks rapidly and takes an unconscious step back. I hear D behind me start to speak up “Girl, shut up.”

“Rai, don’t. Trust me, she’s not worthy of your wrath.” M chimes in at the same time. I turn to her fully, this time knowing my smile is all sorts of wrong.

Tom Hiddleston, evil grin

Tom Hiddleston, evil grin

With the opening whispers of Drowning Pool’s “Bodies” now in my ears, I choose to heed the discretion is route of M’s advice and leave.

Note: from my entrance to my exit, I had not uttered a single word.

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#SOL2017

#SOL2017

Let’s see how others are getting through this Hump Day:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 29 Almost over!

Rainy Days and Tuesdays 

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This is the view out of the window of my bus on the way home this evening. It is pretty much the same view as on my way to work this morning.  Unsurprisingly, I’ve had nothing but rain related tunes going through the iPod of my mind. So please indulge or forgive as today’s slice is a rainy day playlist of some of the songs that flitted my through this wasteland called my cranium in true cornball Raivenne fashion:

I Wish It Would Rain, Rain Is A Good Thing.

Ugh, No Rain.

Oh, I Love a Rainy Night, Can You Stand The Rain?

No, I Can’t Stand The Rain, unless It’s Raining Men.

You got jokes laughing in the Purple Rain.

It’s either Laughter In The Rain or Set Fire to the Rain. Maybe, if it’s A Rainy Night In Georgia in front of a fireplace it’s okay.

Well, there is something about Fire and Rain, especially in San Diego.

You lie, It Never Rains In Southern California.

Don’t Rain On My Parade!

Shush, you’re Only Happy When It Rains.

And, Here Comes The Rain Again.

I know, Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head.

Here, come stand under my Umbrella.

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I SAID cornball didn’t I?

Rainy Days and Mondays, or Tuesdays for that matter don’t always get me down, but they still kinda suck.

#SOL2017

#SOL2017

Let’s see how others are getting through the rest of this semi-torrential Tuesday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 28

Last Stand

A jumble of foliage comes in time
Start their claim on the season,
No longer native to this clime
She still stays on, only she knows the reason

Sprinkled bulbs and blossoms have burgeoned through the earth
She sits there in defiance, determined to keep her berth

“We all have to go, we can’t remain
That’s all there is to it”
But she hears not a word her friends say in vain
She will be the first to do it

And one by one her friends slowly twinkle away
Even as the last meanders off, she is going to stay

Her impetuous nature leaves her alone
But she has not a single fright
The jeweled dark a keepsake of her own
As she conceded to her last night

Afloat in mawkish memories and alternate outcomes
Even she cannot deny the allure of what she’s to become

A specter of what she once was her fate
Stretching in the cool shadow of night’s indigo
The rays of Sol start to illuminate
And she knows it’s now time for her to go

Facing windward for the last time, feels like a kiss goodbye too
As she the last snowflake falls from the first spring grass as dew

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Today at dVerse Mish asks us to give nature a voice.

dVerse ~Poets Pub | Poetics: From Nature’s Point of View

A Long Season

Feeling every second of the long season, it had been an especially rough time for her these past months. She can, and has done little else but, imagine how his penchant to skin a razor with his trade likely had him meander a little too long. She knows it was not greed that delayed him, compared to the mediocre craftsmanship of what was immediately available, he knew what their wares were worth and would not accept a sou less than. She did not begrudge him for an instant for it, but winter had assailed the mountain early. Its velvety white touch unusually brutal and endless, it was unsafe to travel the passage.

She thought she would go mad stewing in helpless isolation with the same cask of chores to occupy her days. Checking the store of supplies, because how on earth did those darn insects keep getting into the flour was beyond her ken, as if there were aught she could do had she run out. Checking the flue near religiously because only one lesson of waking, and nearly choking, in a dark smoke fill room was enough. He usually did that – checked the flue among other things. God how she missed him! His bawdy laugh, his soft whispers, his strong hands.  Her one solace had been her sewing. As his lutalica was what made him a master craftsman in his trade, she was with hers. A massive quilt in shades of blue, with white stars and one small red comet, with coordinating pillow covers, now adorned the bed she wearily crawled into.

She did not need a calendar to know winter was nearly over.  The winds were not so brisk. When she ventured out, the sweet scent of something green in the air adds to the warm sunshine finally reaching the foothills. With heavy lids she pressed her cheek to a star festooned pillow at last, even as she looked out of the window to the cold dark night and smiled with hope. The passage would be open and he would be home soon.

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Seeing Stars, Charcoal – Karin Gustafson

====================
Sunday Wordle #292
Sweet, Touch, Months, Adds, Sunshine, Stew, Cask, Red, Velvety, Smoke, Foothills, Long

MLMM Wordle #148
Cheek, Heavy, Insect, Skin a Razor(Drive a hard bargain), Instant, Greed, Helpless, Meander, Assail, Mediocre, Passage, Lutalica{Lutalica: The Part of Your Identity That Doesn’t Fit Into Categories)

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form, in any order that you like.

ManicDDaily – Seeing Stars, charcoal
This story was going to be something different, and from a male perspective until I saw Karin’s lovely art, then everything changed.

On Cue

Night scars gone
Jarred fireflies spark 

We twist, skip, dance
In the bubbling spring
Ghost grins whisper and giggle

Breezes shimmer green
Leaves curl, spill in open journey

And In the lull
Dawn melts
In rose shadowed clouds

We breathe
Love balloons
On cue

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An added challenge by De for this Quadrille#29 prompt night at dVerse: Writing The One With All the Words used in Monday Quadrille challenges.

Our Q44 word list so far:

dance, lull, bubble, grin, melt, shimmer, twist, skip, green, breeze, spill, rose, journey, jar, leaves, open, shadow, cloud, spark, cue, breath(e), scar, curl, whisper, dawn, ghost, giggle, spring, balloon

dverse
dVerse ~ Poets Pub |  Quadrille #29-The One With All The Words

Homecoming

It’s been
months
since his last touch,
she stews
in sweet memory
As each new
sunshine
adds more
to long for

Winter’s
white velvety cloak
finally yields
to red balloons
smoked meats,
and opening of casks
upon first sighting
in the Foothills

Welcome Home

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It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, and De (WhimsyGizmo ) challenges us to write poetry using the word balloon in a poem of 44 words, no more – no less,

dverse
dVerse ~ Poets Pub |  Quadrille #29

sunday whirl
The Sunday Whirl | Wordle # 292
Sweet, Touch, Months, Adds, Sunshine, Stew, Cask, Red, Velvety, Smoke, Foothills, Long

Oh, For Crying Out Loud!

My commute is such that while all of my subway ride is underground, various stations along the route are equipped with free WiFi. The thirty to forty-five seconds spent at each station is usually just enough time for my smartphone to pick up a signal and perhaps update texts and/or an app or two. As such I was having something of a textation, a texting conversation, with a friend. As we each were on different trains, with anything between two to seven minutes between stations, we innately accepted the stop and go nature of it.

At one pointed she texted something that caught me completely off-guard. I just was not expecting such words to come from her and it touched me in a way I was not prepared to handle. There I was, on the subway, choking with feeling. I was so completely overcome by it. I felt my face contort, tears I could not control were about to fall. It was made all the worse when the man sitting next to me touched my trembling shoulder asking if I were okay. I immediately put my head in my lap unable to answer. Unable to stop the ragged gasping that fell from my lips. I was just short of keening as I desperately tried to suppress my emotions.

GOD DAMN HER!!!!

It started with her asking me about a -how shall I say this? stranger than usual- Facebook post and the snark started. I wish I could share, but the comments started in the gutter and went downhill fast, even by my prurient standards. Taken on its own, it would not have been as amusing, but in context of the randomness of the texts coming in, some out of order, the time of morning, the picking on of a mutual friend and the simple lack of that life giving thing called coffee, it was all the more funny than it ever should have been to disastrous results.  That emotion I was choking on? Pure unhinged laughter.

I was was not just crying with laughter, I trying with all of my might not to howl with it. And that was my mistake.

I should have learned my lesson from the last time this happened and just let it out to begin with.  This happened to me years ago at work, where several of my colleagues, and my boss, thought I was distraught over something as I was literally sobbing with suppressed laughter for a solid ten minutes because my cubicle mate at the time and I got into a case of the giggles and completely lost it. When it happened back then, I went off the floor to the ladies room and let it all out – much to the amusement of the one colleague who witnessed the transition from presumably distraught to dying of laughter as I could barely breath for it.  The memory of that last time combined with this one. And. Did. Not. Help. At. All.  Apparently, laughing hysterically and sobbing hysterically share many properties, thus why the word hysteria exists. The poor caring -and bless their souls- folks on the train simply could not tell at first.  It was a good two stations until I could finally lift my tear stained face and unmistakably guffaw at their expressions, letting those near me on the train know I was clearly crazy as a loon, but otherwise fine.

I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will
–“One Week” Bare Naked Ladies
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#SOL2017

#SOL2017

Let’s see how others are losing it through the rest of this Monday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 27

Fine Dining

Yesterday was all about Georgia O’Keeffe, but that was not all I saw while at Brooklyn Museum. Continuing its feminist vibe, the museum also has on exhibit “The Dinner Party” by Judy Chicago.

At some point in our lives we ask or are asked “If you could have dinner with…?” type of question. In her work “The Dinner Party” artist Judy Chicago takes that question and answers it in a magnificent way. It is a tribute of women from mythical goddesses, government leaders, wordsmiths, artists, scholars, activists and more, from historical to 20th century contemporaries.

Before you get to the table itself you pass through an entry where you are welcomed via a series of banners which hang from the ceiling. The phrases, depicted in much of the color pallet used in the main exhibit, read:

“And She Gathered All before Her”
“And She made for them A Sign to See”
“And lo They saw a Vision”
“From this day forth Like to like in All things”
“And then all that divided them merged”
“And then Everywhere was Eden Once again”

I do not know Ms. Chicago’s intention, but reading this I felt as though a powerful feminine deity looked around to see the mess that had been made of things and took action setting things right.

And then you enter “The Dinner Party”

“The Dinner Party” by Judy Chicago at Brooklyn Museun

“The Dinner Party” by Judy Chicago at Brooklyn Museum

I had heard of the iconic, large scale project years ago. Still I was not prepared for the monumental scope of it. Chicago does not invite just one iconic woman, but what has to be nearly a thousand women in history to dinner. The lighting is intimate and inviting. You want to lean in and view each setting. About 40 who are represented by place settings at the triangular shaped table and rest via names inscribed on floor on which the table rests. Because of the flowing text and the lighting, I initially felt the table floated on tiles made to look like water. Especially in the center of the floor where the names of so many women, a representation of the ebb and flow, the fluidity of the female spirit throughout history. I thought it fitting.

Ceramics, intricately embroidered table linens sit beneath utensils and golden chalices surrounding unique porcelain plates created for each invitee, with radiating forms representing female external sexual organs. Akin to a Georgia O’Keefe flower painting in spirit, she of course is a guest at this astonishing table. I was amazed by the beauty and depth of detail of each setting.

I cannot fathom the amount of staff involved in the creation of such amazing craftwork, but I give immense praise to all who brought this to life.

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#SOL2017

#SOL2017

Let’s see how the others are slicing their Sunday,

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 26

Georgia On My Mind

And before you start humming any more of the classic Ray Charles song, I mean Georgia O’Keeffe, the artist and one of, if not, the inventor of the American modernism genre in Art. Brooklyn Museum currently hosts an inspiring exhibit.

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The exhibit, though featuring numerous pieces of her art, was more about the woman herself. Known as much for her free spirit as for her dramatic and often sensual of art, something she maintained was never intentional,  O’Keefe was a female role model in the male dominated world of abstract and fine art. Her unique style made her a standout in many ways.

It was in the 1920s, when nobody had time to reflect, that I saw a still-life painting with a flower that was perfectly exquisite, but so small you really could not appreciate it. I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.
–Georgia O’Keeffe

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The queue to view the exhibit.

Like much of her art, when she wasn’t wearing black, she wore deep, rich hues. Preferring well-tailored, nearly mannish in her cut of clothes, instead of the more flowy, frilly styles that are a constant of women’s fashion, O’Keefe preferred a more androgynous look in her clothing style long before we started bandying the word about.

A style icon in her own right, the exhibit displays items of her clothing, and accessories -off the rack and custom made, over the years. She was also a sassy little minx as images captured her in various states of contemplation and dress – and undress- from various photographers such as Richard Avedon, Ansel Adams, and others, but especially her ex-lover Alfred Stieglitz. These photographs interspersed throughout the exhibit cover decades of her life and are as much art themselves in the stories they tell of their subject.

The exhibit also included video interviews of her at different times in her long career. Seeing and hearing her adds even more dimension when combined with all these personal pieces of her.Though I have known of her work all my life, I really knew nothing of the artist’s life until this exhibit.

It was a wonderful fusion of the art and the artist. I have a new and much deeper respect of both for it.

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#SOL2017

#SOL2017

Let’s see how the others sliced it up their Saturday,

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 25