Poetry - Femme Fatale

The assignment was to write a haiku, a sonnet, and something in open form. I've never been a huge fan of writing poetry because I never thought I was very good at it, but really grew to appreciate it after this assignment. My sonnet is a bit of a stumble but the requirements are all there. I was inspired by Patrick Nagel and Velvet Underground this particular night while doing homework.

-Haiku-

She wore her heels high

But made no sound while walking

'Til it was too late

-Sonnet-

They walked together having found true love

A close step behind, followed his best friend

He dreamt of cupping her supple rear end

And eyed those pants that fit her like a glove

A young beauty, wearing severe high heels

Yellow hair and bright blood red on her lips

Twisted triangle of relationships

A vixen in slinky smooth fabric peels

She was aware of her affect on him

The moves she made calculated, precise

They were caught one time, their whispers concise

The secrets they shared, founded on a whim

A call too close, the decision was made

To save her love, his friend's light had to fade

-Open Form-

She spritzed on her perfume

Lined her eyes with black

And slicked on some red

Shiny lacquered nails

Two stabs through her earlobes

Glimmered and dazzled

Her foot fall echoed and sharp

A match struck

The wisp of sulfur

The taste of tobacco and cloves mixed with gin and tonic

A charming laugh tinkling like ice in a glass after a delightful compliment

Pop culture filled polite conversation merged into backgrounds and upbringings and stifled vitriol

A lovely evening then soured, rotted, and ruined by shallow snobbery

Ignorant, arrogant, and rude

Quick sharp echoing steps

A frenzied retreat through black moving shadows and white steaming sidewalks

The silent transition

Between hunter and prey

He'd started the night as the hunter.

Photo Prompt - The American Contract

We were provided with 5 photos to pick from and write a story segment about. It didn't have to be a finished story, but it did need to be between 500 to 600 words.
This is the picture I chose and the words that followed.

The American Contract

I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.

Stuff and Nonsense.

Most of you know that I'm back in school. If you don't, I have been since the summer of 2014. I'm heading into my final semester in January for a piddly little 2 year degree for Multimedia Production: TV/Digital Cinema. This fall term, I jumped into 5 classes; mostly digital editing and photography, but there was also a Creative Writing class.

I have decided to return to this hotdog stand because having words out there and ideas and inspiration floating about in so many ways is important to me. Most of you are creative minds and artists and stuff like that is important to you, too.
You understand that when the Muse speaks, you have no choice but to listen & TCB. My Muse has been strong this fall and she wants me to share her with you now.
So, if you're interested...I'm going to start posting recent stories, poetry, video & photo projects.

Plus, this:

Advice To Young Bloggers

My friend's daughter, Nae, has recently been makin' some noise about blogging and was looking for recommendations for sites to start her own.
It got me thinkin' about what I'd pass along, or maybe, what I wish I'd heard those several years* ago when I first started putting my stupid voice out there.

Here are some helpful-ish tips:

1. Don't write for other people. They won't read your shit anyway. And I do mean that in the nicest way possible. They just won't. Until one day when you think no one reads it and then someone mentions to you at a party that they've been reading it. And that when they do, it's usually during a morning constitutional. But hey, they're reading it, right? Score!!
There have been a few other times people have owned up to reading my shit -looking forward to it even- and it's a funny feeling. I love you, you fucking creepers. ;)

2. Write for yourself. If you have something heavy on your mind - get that shit OUT!! Right then - write it down on something to type up later, get the mobile app....whatever...just write it down. Get those brilliant thoughts outta your head. It's actually better for your noggin health. Plus, you don't wanna let a brilliant strike slip away only to have a creative block later. I've found that while traveling or in places where I don't have a good connection, actual writing with pen & paper is best. *GASP* I knoooooow!! Who'da thunk?
The other awesome reason to write for yourself, and the reason I write for myself, is so when you're older than you ever thought was possible and your mind has left town, you have some entertaining shit to read or have read to you. Little time capsules & slivers of yourself to look back on or pass through the family. Same reason applies as to why I make the dumb videos I make.

3. Don't censor yourself or be afraid to offend people. Because fuck them.  See #2. (heh...#2)

4. Proofread a shit ton of times before you publish it.  Most of the time you'll come off sounding like an idiot anyway (especially if you're like me and write in a conscious thought stream that includes slang) - typos and easy grammatical errors will only compound that & cancel out any cool points you may have earned in topic.
Plus, simple errors just get on my nerves (ask Matthew) and I'd like it if more people took the time to proofread their shit.

5. Hemmingway said, "Write drunk; Edit sober."

6. If you're stumped and don't know what to write about, reviews and How-To's are always easy go-tos. Music, movies, books, events, travel, cooking, etc. (obviously, I've had no idea what to write about over the past few years.) Even old diary/journal entries are good references in times of blockage.

7. Never ever think anything is going to go viral. I stress this one here, but this goes for anything being shared via social media. "Viral" doesn't work that way. You can't set out one day thinking you're going to make a Viral Something. If you do, you'll only be disappointed and I'll point and laugh and say, "I told you so." If you end up making something that happens to go viral (see the difference there?), it will be a joyous occasion and we'll all be reading/watching it on loop and will help you celebrate.

8. As a follow-up to #3....Don't feel like you have a license to be an asshole to people. Don't make it sound like you're directing your commentary towards any one person. That's just mean. If there is anyone reading your shit, they'll probably think whatever you're saying is about them anyway, so just keep things in general terms. It's classier that way & you won't come off as just another trash talker.

9. Include pictures if you're wordy. How many times have you clicked a link and were assaulted by a giant screen of unbroken paragraphs and more words than you were able to scroll through? Did you read it all? No, you were too busy scrolling, looking for the end. Be nice to eyeballs and break it up into bite size chunks with pictures, lists (like this one), embedded vids, or just simply throw in some good paragraph breaks.

10. There's no number 10. I just wanted to see if you'd make it this far on the list. Here's a small reward if you've only scrolled to the ending because you let the amount of words intimidate you:

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*Yes, I actually have been blogging for "several years". I kept up with one on multiply.com for a couple years starting in 2004. multiply.com isn't around anymore as of May 2013. Go ahead, check. Then I did the myspace thing for a few years until I started spewing all over Blogger in 2008 with this slice of brilliance. And that's only the internet stuff. I've kept journals all my life, too!!

The Start of Something

I'm grabbing some inspiration from these:

And starting this:

gave me a painting idea

Saw This & Thought It Was Pretty

It was floating around facebook.

You Know You're Fat When -or- A Declaration

1. Your 'fat' jeans are tight.
2. You break a sweat trying on different outfits.
3. XL shirts don't hide the rolls.
4. Your tits muffin top.*
5. The spot where your thighs touch threaten to start a fire when you walk.
6. The spot where your thighs touch are the only hole worn in your 'fat' jeans that are now tight.
7. You look like a stack of mower tires from behind.
8. Your elbows are but mere dimples.
9. Your underwear rolls down when you sit.
10. Your shirt rolls up when you take it off.
11. An Englishman calls you the "softest bird" he's ever danced with.
12. You wear your husband's swim trunks to a waterpark.
13. You sunburnt your stretchmarks.
14. You stand in the mirror and see a more fit you underneath the fatsuit you're currently wearing.
15. All pictures with you in them, suck.

Seriously, you guys....I've been a horrible disappointment to myself over the past year or two, or three, or six.

I even told me so a couple weeks ago when I tried (and failed, yet again) to keep a weight loss journal**.

This one lasted for not even 2 weeks.

ARGH!!!

Back in November, I started actin' like I was going to tackle this thing for real and wanted to do a 365 photo/vlog project and blah blah blah.

That one lasted about 2 weeks, too.

I HATE THE TWO WEEK CYCLE!!

Why do I do that?

Why am I letting me down?

Pannacakes just recently told me she hit a goal and is treating herself with some junk from Amazon.

I have no goals.

I've never had any real goals.

I usually just say what I want and then later on (days, weeks, months, years) it happens, but its not like I have a goal set list.

So, here it is.

I'm saying it, outloud, to you and the rest of the universe:

I WANT TO LOSE 30LBS BY THE END OF 2012.

We have 7 months left of the year.

That's 28 weeks.

And that's roughly 2lbs per week (with an added little challenge thrown in)

Here's how I plan to do it.  (holy crap...is this a goal??)

• Gym 5 days a week.  Bonuses if I have dance class or other high movement-type outings.
• Knock off the beer consumption drastically.  If I have any, it'll be dark and heavenly and 2 is my cutoff.
• Cut out the carb intake.  No breads, pastas, noodles, or other baked goods.  Even whole wheat type crap.  This has worked for me before, why don't I go back to what works?
• Lean meats and veg.  Fruits in the a.m.  Nothing crazy or new here.
• No friggin' CHEESE.  This one's a bitch.  I fuckin' love cheese...BUT like I said, I've done it before.

Its just time for me to do this again.

I don't like the way I feel.  I don't need anyone to make it a competition.  I don't need to keep talking about it.

What I do need is encouragement, constant reminders, and to fuckin' DO IT ALREADY.

If you don't like something, change it, right?

Its time to fucking change things.

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*I'm so not mad at this one.  It took me getting fat to even have tits.

**Written in the book Pannacakes got me that has a picture of a chihuahua dressed up like Michael Jackson on the cover.

From Neil deGrasse Tyson's Tweets Today

Absolutely love these.

Current Obsession

"Seeing we call it painting.
Hearing we call it music.
Reading we call it poetry.
And living we call it life.
So art is an attempt to capture life."
                  -Eyvind Earle