Apr 10, 2015
Love Haiku #1
"I love you," she said "I fucking hate you," she said How did we get here?
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Love Haiku #1
"I love you," she said "I fucking hate you," she said How did we get here?
On Reading and Writing (The Lord of the Rings)
The first time I read the Lord of the Rings (LOTR) I was fresh off the glow of having watched the Fellowship of the Rings in the theater (I’m pretty sure I read the Hobbit when I was growing up, but my memory grows hazy. I do definitely remember loving me some 1977 animated Hobbit movie, though). I was jazzed up by how fun and exciting the movie was and so went out and bought the unwieldy single-volume edition.
Winter Stroll
A thin layer of ice had formed on the top of the snow, which cracked and broke into pieces as they walked. The corners of the shards were quite sharp and could have inflicted serious harm, had violence been on either of their minds. Neither of them, however, were pondering violence. They were the only two foolish enough to go for a moonlight stroll in the cold and so they had the winter wonderland to themselves.
Their nighttime stroll had been an impromptu suggestion and so they weren’t really dressed for the elements. He wore a T-shirt, jeans, and some canvas shoes, which were seeping icy cold water onto his toes. She was the more practical of the two and had at least thought to put on her threadbare hooded sweatshirt and purple galoshes. Still, when the breeze kicked up, the sweatshirt did little to cut its impact. Of course, they didn’t notice the cold too much, except that it encouraged them to walk a little closer together to share warmth.
They walked so close together that their hands brushed against each other every third step or so. Because they hadn’t thought to put on gloves, each time their hands brushed their skin touched and it shot a zing up his arm. He tried not to think about it and instead focused on the cloud of breath that formed when he spoke. Only thinking about his breath made him think about her breath. And thinking about her breath made him think about her lips and he was right back in trouble. So, instead of his breath, he concentrated on the crackling of the ice.
As they walked, they were momentarily bathed in the orange glow of a street lamp. It suddenly occurred to him what a perfect moment it would be to kiss her for the first time under one of the street lamps, their silhouettes illuminated in the darkness all around. That is, it would be perfect if she kissed him back. While it seemed likely, it wasn’t a given and he worked up his courage as they approached the next light. He no longer heard the words she was speaking, all he could think about was that next lamp.
When his foot crushed the threshold into the light, he gently took her hand and turned her towards him. She looked up in surprise, but did not seem startled. He pulled her closer, but she was already moving towards him. She was so close now that he could smell her breath. He closed his eyes and their lips met, their outlines perfectly framed by the light.
“Yet, Leonora adored him with a passion that was like an agony, and hated him with an agony that was as bitter as the sea.”
Ford Madox Ford - “The Good Soldier.”
Winter Stroll - A Short Story
A thin layer of ice had formed on the top of the snow, which cracked and broke into pieces as they walked. The corners of the shards were quite sharp and could have inflicted serious harm, had violence been on either of their minds. Neither of them, however, were pondering violence. They were the only two foolish enough to go for a moonlight stroll in the cold and so they had the winter wonderland to themselves.
Their nighttime stroll had been an impromptu suggestion and so they weren’t really dressed for the elements. He wore a T-shirt, jeans, and some canvas shoes, which were seeping icy cold water onto his toes. She was the more practical of the two and had at least thought to put on her threadbare hooded sweatshirt and purple galoshes. Still, when the breeze kicked up, the sweatshirt did little to cut its impact. Of course, they didn’t notice the cold too much, except that it encouraged them to walk a little closer together to share warmth.
They walked so close together that their hands brushed against each other every third step or so. Because they hadn’t thought to put on gloves, each time their hands brushed their skin touched and it shot a zing up his arm. He tried not to think about it and instead focused on the cloud of breath that formed when he spoke. Only thinking about his breath made him think about her breath. And thinking about her breath made him think about her lips and he was right back in trouble. So, instead of his breath, he concentrated on the crackling of the ice.
As they walked, they were momentarily bathed in the orange glow of a street lamp. It suddenly occurred to him what a perfect moment it would be to kiss her for the first time under one of the street lamps, their silhouettes illuminated in the darkness all around. That is, it would be perfect if she kissed him back. While it seemed likely, it wasn’t a given and he worked up his courage as they approached the next light. He no longer heard the words she was speaking, all he could think about was that next lamp.
When his foot crushed the threshold into the light, he gently took her hand and turned her towards him. She looked up in surprise, but did not seem startled. He pulled her closer, but she was already moving towards him. She was so close now that he could smell her breath. He closed his eyes and their lips met, their outlines perfectly framed by the light.
If you liked this, please check out my other work:
Avenue of the Dead
Or my serialized novel in three parts:
Dark Thoughts Book 1: Hearing Voices
Dark Thoughts Book 2: Deep Water
Dark Thoughts Book 3: Gathering Storm
Hearing Voices: Book 4: A Serialized Novel Page 2
Previously on Hearing Voices: Three telepathic kids are on the run, pursued by forces they don’t understand. They’re on a race to discover where they came from before it is too late…
Moira had agreed to the bargain more to keep her mom off her back than anything. The ultimate prize for winning the spelling bee was ten thousand dollars for college, which hardly appealed to her at all either. Nobody in her family had ever gone to college and she wasn’t planning on breaking that trend. If she could have traded that cash for something good, like a trip to Disneyland or Hawaii or someplace warmer than Seattle, now that would have been something.
Since she wasn’t too interested in winning the first contest Moira hadn’t lifted a single book to study. She expected to go out in the first round of the first contest and be on her way. To her surprise, however, she had won that contest. That must have been luck, she told herself, she had always been good at words and spelling, but so were all the other kids in the contest. But her luck continued through the next bee, and the next, and so on, until she found herself here at the state finals. The whole time she had never studied once, in contrast to old Sundeep over there who looked like his parents forced him to study six hours a night. They just kept asking her words she knew and she kept answering them. How she was still here was a mystery to her and she would be relieved when she inevitably lost to Sundeep. All this time at contests was getting to be a drag for her and her mom. Mostly her mom dropped her off and then went out to smoke until the contest was over, but even still it was time spent doing things she could have been doing at home. Like smoking. And watching TV.
“Contestant number 17,” a solemn looking woman began and Sundeep stepped forward to the microphone.
They always referred to the contestants by their numbers and not their names. Moira knew this was to give an objective, non-biased air to the proceedings, but to her it felt more like the emotional detachment serial killers adopted with their victims. At least that’s what she had learned from Dateline NBC, which she stayed up and watched when her mom would go out at night. “Your word is esquamulose.”
If you liked this, please check out my other work:
Avenue of the Dead
Or my serialized novel in three parts:
Dark Thoughts Book 1: Hearing Voices
Dark Thoughts Book 2: Deep Water
Dark Thoughts Book 3: Gathering Storm
Hearing Voices: Book 4: A Serialized Novel
Previously on Hearing Voices: Three telepathic kids are on the run, pursued by forces they don't understand. They're on a race to discover where they came from before it is too late...
"We're down to our last two contestants here at the Washington State Spelling Bee, here in Olympia," the man in the cheap suit told the presumably enthralled public radio audience. "It has been a hotly contested contest this year between returning champion Sandeep Babu and newcomer Moira Horovitz. These two young scholars have already made it through six rounds of competition to get to this point and the pressure will only mount from here. We now prepare to return you to the spelling bee after a brief intermission."
As the man finished speaking Moira shook her shoulders out to relieve tension. She and Sandeep both stood on stage, the hot lights beating down on their heads. A glossy sheen of sweat covered Sandeep's forehead and he blinked every so often as a drop rolled down into his eyes. During the break he had dried his face with a handkerchief, what fifteen-year-old boy walks around with a handkerchief, but it obviously hadn't taken. From all appearances Sandeep was ready to crack. His once perfectly tied tie had loosened and drooped to one side, the result of his frequent fidgeting.
Moira, in contrast, felt completely calm and relaxed. Just judging by her facial expression, you would have thought she was at home relaxing on the couch and watching the contest on TV. In part that was because she had arrived here by coercion; her teacher, one of those do-gooder types, had taken an interest in her, noticed her extensive vocabulary, and essentially bullied her into participating. Moira wasn’t the best at participating in class, or showing up really, and her teacher told her that the extra credit she received from participating in the local spelling bee would be enough to help her pass the class. Moira had agreed to the bargain more to keep her mom off her back than anything. The ultimate prize for winning the spelling bee was ten thousand dollars for college, which hardly appealed to her at all either.
If you liked this, please check out my other work:
Avenue of the Dead
Or my serialized novel in three parts:
Dark Thoughts Book 1: Hearing Voices
Dark Thoughts Book 2: Deep Water
Dark Thoughts Book 3: Gathering Storm
Spring Break Up
She had known this day had been coming for a long time, but that didn’t make it any easier. In fact, it probably made it worse. If it had been a clean, sudden break she wouldn’t be carrying around the weight of her second guesses and self-recrimination. Things had been bad for a while and she had known it, so there must have been something she could have done to avoid it. A small change here or there along the way and he might still be sitting right here on the couch next to her. Instead, he was gone and she sat alone, her eyes too cried out for any more tears.