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Posts by lavender

I am still on the bus. Everything I see, I see through fogged up windows. I don't know what's out there. If I were to pull the stopcord, descend the steps and breathe the outside air, where would I find myself standing? I don't know what it all looks like from out there, off the bus. Would I be greeted by sunshine in an expanse of desert? Would I be suffocated by oppressive dark, trees hanging, bending to snatch me up and strangle me or pull me to the soft crumbly...
I can't think of a more uninteresting subject. Now what does that say about me? That I'm boring? That I'm bored? That I don't like to listen to other people talk about themselves, gong on and on in that monotone having to announce to the world their stance on every single issue, their beliefs and what they ate at four o' clock yesterday. Smelling someone's breath as I fidget with my fingers, glad I don't wear a watch or I would betray this veneer of polite interest. I...
I'm asking, not just for Christmas, but for the WHOLE holiday SEASON, for a little PEACE and QUIET!! Sorry, it's been a rough week around here.
note: I didn't know what I was going to write about till my pen hit the paper. I certainly didn't expect to be so literal! When people ask where I'm from I'm never quite sure what to way. I spent fourteen years surrounded by vineyards, a bunch more after that in the Nevada sage, and have been now in Oregon for eight. Nine? My heart has come along with me, always slow to follow, with every move I've made with the exception of that four-year span in Vegas. My heart...
Tanya: I see contrast between the two pieces, in the sense that the first is about giving up and falling apart, and the second is about things coming together, falling into place. A kind of an ebb and flow. The end of the first, where you are left standing with your daughter beside you, could be a good beginning to that sort of transition, I think. I love the specific visual images, the earthball, the cooking with Teflon. What resonates the most...the sentence...
Oops--I have not posted my writing goals! I began writing on a daily basis just over a year ago now, in an effort to get my creative juices flowing. I paint, and I had been wedged between motherhood and an unhealthy grudge for several years and my brush would not move across the paper. It started with reading the book The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, in which she recommends doing what she calls "morning pages", which are three solid pages of hand-written...
Trying to hard usually results in a pulled muscle of some type of injury. A broken heart, for example. Times I have tried too hard are when I knew something would not naturally grow and happen, like if you tried to garden on a slab of rock. Why would you do that? You could, but you would have to try awfully hard, bringing in soil and compost, working in fertilizer, digging and wearing away and scraping. Wait a million years and that granite will have crumbled, adding...
What is the color of passion? Red, red is the color. And what is the color of blue? It is ice, it is cold. Where the fire and the ice meet it is a clear icy blue calm in the sea of swirling everything else. I think in color. I feel in colors. The paint that flows through my life is a rich brown-black fading into a ribbon of translucent gray. I have been void of color recently, my colors and feelings suspended. Where is the passion. Where do the colors flow?
The softest touch...that is what I've been looking for. In a world of boys and men, my world, there is no soft touch! They are all bumps and bruises, thrusts and rolls. I can't make them be soft but I can make myself fly across the room at the slightest touch, no matter how rough it is. I used to long for the soft, and sometimes I still do. My mother's touch was soft. She would brush my hair back behind my ears and I felt like a kitten. I give the boys the same softness...
Wow, everybody, just WOW. I read through most of the work and I am hearing so many different voices, all unique and all so interesting. A couple of questions... 1. I noticed people are asking if they can join, or saying that they didn't join because it was too late. I never asked. I just started posting. Also, I can't get to all the assignments. Is this acceptable? 2. I am seeing such varying lengths. How flexible are the time limits? (I am most likely slower...
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