Red lipstick and laced marquees

Insomnia

2009-10-17T18:12:00.000-07:00

My eyes flicker to the broken wing of the horse fly on the vanity. sandpaper. It's noon, no maybe it's 5:00, who cares, pour my bath and leave me alone. Cold porcelain teases my skin, it feels good but it starts a shock through me. pain. I can't tell if the lamp is on, what is making that shadow? An insane murderer, ready to pounce. It's only Lucy, she comes often. Sometimes I smell Saco Bay, beaches and suicide and whatnot. A quarter exposes my red lined eyes to myself. It's not like I can help it. The Bible stares at me underneath the horse fly now, bring it to me, Lucy. Shoot, the lamp went out, no the sun came up. Now I will dream. black. Moonlight Sonata and whiskey linger on the bed. A slam jolts me, oh, it's only my pulse. That Mandarin bracelet is stuck to the door knob. I was born blind, but now I am never, unless you count blinking. A ballet of howls and termites are my sheep. Lighthouse fireflies lure my whispers, I'm not crazy you know. truth.

Oh my desire to go to Edith Wharton's estate.

2009-10-15T07:08:00.000-07:00

A familiar face stumbles
onto her. Intoxicated. She supports,
Drunken complaints.
“Ms. Wharton, will you sign my copy?”
Her name plastered in the air,
no smudged glass to look through.
Lights, not language. He is a trophy,
liquor and foam dribble down her
collar. Half conscious he sings.
A mailbox overgrown with elite parties. Paper
blessed by her pen’s touch. She knows.
Champagne in one hand, New York in the other.
Three steps on the front porch. She turns
his key. Perhaps he will write a whiskey
lullaby, prize-winning.

Statements in her locket, the billboard is painted white.

I must think this out...

2009-06-21T16:28:00.000-07:00

A pen, a banana, a blue piece of paper, an old bottle of coke, my glasses, a broken calculator and an orange sharpie. Oh, and a shoelace without a shoe.

I was challenged by a friend to use the above throughout my next blog entry. Although I'm not completely sure how I'm going to do so yet, I think it could turn out very fun. This is only going to be a first try, I may revise later. For now, here goes!(By the way, most of these events are true, some I had to make up...try to find the made up events)

Yesterday was quite an adventure. I started out my day on few hours of sleep. I only had the chance to grab a banana for breakfast and I was out the door. I don't know if it's just me, but it was rather difficult to peel and eat while driving. I was headed for church to sort rocks and other harmful things out of a flooded, 2 foot deep mud pit.
As I approached the exit ramp, I noticed an old bottle of coke tumbling across the intersection. I wished for a pen to jot down some lines that it inspired. That tends to happen, great ideas pop into my head while I'm driving, not fun.
After that, I arrived at the church. Being extremely dedicated, I was there early even in the buckets of rain. When I was finished parking very crookedly, I looked down to see a shoelace without a shoe. It was odd, I mean who just loses a shoelace. And that got me thinking more interesting thoughts. I reached into my purse past my glasses to a miniature notebook. I opened the cover and scribbled on a blue piece of paper. In my tiny notebook, there are four colors of paper; blue, pink, yellow, and green. I liked that blue was next for some reason.
Inside, a boy was trying to take apart a broken calculator. Probably to retrieve the batteries, but why not just get new ones? Could there be such a sport as "battery hunting"? My attention then focused on an elderly gentleman. He was in an orange sharpie colored sweater...in late June. I played with the idea that his wife had passed and that was the sweater she knit him before their last Christmas. I am easily distracted with details, which is sometimes a flaw.
By the time I actually walked to the mud pit, I realized I had thought of several poem foundations. Not that these are done, but more like under construction. I wish my days could be more productive like this all the time. Or maybe it is and I just don't realize it.

So True.

2009-05-24T11:59:00.000-07:00

At twenty years of age I'm still looking for a dream
A war's already waged for my destiny
But You've already won the battle
And You've got great plans for me
Though I can’t always see

(Chorus)
‘Cause I got a couple dents in my fender
Got a couple rips in my jeans
Try to fit the pieces together
But perfection is my enemy
On my own I'm so clumsy
But on Your shoulders I can see
I'm free to be me

When I was just a girl I thought I had it figured out
My life would turn out right, and I'd make it here somehow
But things don't always come that easy
And sometimes I would doubt

(Chorus)

And you’re free to be you

Sometimes I believe that I can do anything
Yet other times I think I've got nothing good to bring
But You look at my heart and You tell me
That I've got all You seek
And it’s easy to believe
Even though

(Chorus)

Multi genre writing

2009-05-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

So, I am trying to come up with some creative writing genres for my multi genre writing project. I need something more than the autobiography, short story, too-broad-for-anything type. I chose Edith Wharton for my topic, which allows plenty of creativity. I really want to get a hold of her letters. To research into her life that much will help me capture her voice. I don't know much about her somewhat-scandalous life, but I want to learn more. I have an extensive list of questions that are still unanswered. Hopefully some different ideas will come to me soon. I think I will create some type of shopping list or receipt of hers showing some interesting items she bought. Let me know if you can think of anything at all.