Finally got to eat with Doc and Mary Ellen for my birthday Naturally, he gave me even more books to add to my tower of unread things. I did read one that night called The Enchanted, which turned out to be 17 different kinds of messed up. Seriously, everyone is either a rapist or rape victim. Lovely writing though. I find it similar to The Book Thief in that I didn't actually enjoy reading it, and probably won't read it again for a long time, if ever, but don't regret the read.
Anyway, we had our early dinner and we all ate way too much but that cookie sundae was effing delicious. Doc is his busy self, so I don't get to see him as much anymore - I would attend his Drama class, but it's at the same time that I have to pick up Russ.
I'm not sure yet, but I think I may be taking a day trip next Saturday. There's a big craft fair about an hour and a half to the south that my Mom and Grandma like to go check out. I've heard it hasn't been as good in recent years, but I think Mom really wants to go. It'll probably depend on the weather and if we need to watch Russ or not. I haven't been in several years, but I've always enjoyed it in the past, even if the drive takes forever.
In both personal and dA news, I'm hosting a little experiment that could use more participants! If you'd like to join in, please send me a note with a piece of literature that no one on dA has seen before - I'll be putting the documents in Stash, and linking them when the time comes. Depending on the number I get, I may do it all at once, or stretch it out over a period of time. We'll see!
On a final note, if anyone would like to send some space-themed literature my way, that'd be great
Love Letter Contest
Recycled Haiku contest!
Micro Fiction contest!
Best Friend Contest
The Writer's Smile Project
mythology has a thing for crushing people.atlas must have been one hell of a snail,
carrying the weight of his home,
across his bowed shoulders-
he's dragging around a giant rock
with 7 billion constantly dying souls,
and 98 billion dead ones.
sisyphus has nothing on this.
homeI miss you in that sleepless way
which hooks behind ribs, pulling you up from your dreams
coughing and choking and gasping for air
reaching for a face which is gone,
stomach churning, no no no don't be gone,
be here, be beside me,
be the light in the tunnel
because the night is too dark, too long
and where the sea once offered to swallow me whole
I offer to you these words:
Come home because I have failed,
because I am not brave. I am crying to the moon,
skin sun-kissed and shivering, out of place and alone,
come home, come home.
These days which have drifted,
taken me so far from the front bedroom sheets
where once you held me tight as you slept
are aching and old, each morning less than the last
until, at last, I can linger no longer,
Begging you for a blessing which you cannot hear.
I have not known you in years,
and I need you still.
Slip slow to the fore:
the shadows which wait, sorrow and salt,
lustrous in dark are marred by the light
which burns from your throat.
Train Station LoveThe thing about unrequited love is that it isn't happy.
Nor is it romantic.
It's mentally deteriorating.
It's like waiting for a train that never even existed in the first place.
You're waiting like some mad person at a station that's never been built in the first place.
You're relying on a watch that permanently says the time for love is now.
It's not now or ever.
If you're waiting for that train, I recommend you jump in front of it instead.
It might shock you when those headlights coming your way was just the rising sun.
Might even shake you from this delirium called unrequited love.
for each emptiness,
two worlds divided
by the worlds between
conversation piececonversation piece
“what we don’t want to say
is what keeps us awake at night”
someone scribbled, between teeny stars
and a pot smoking skull, on the wall
of a bathroom stall -
i have been meaning to tell you about
the ache; about how i hate postscriptums,
and confined spaces and goodbyes;
to talk of this urge to walk away,
before the dust settles in my eyes, before
the thinning ice we stand on fully melts.
instead i have been telling you
that i no longer sleep at night.
Sophie, May 2014
Atwitter swallows on the wire
silhouetted against the sky