The orange juice gave the champagne a breakfast disguise that made it right to drink before lunch.
I’d seen them come out on trays. The waiters were carrying them through the country club, lifting them up over the wedding crowd. Open at the top and curved in the middle, they were the brightest in the room – decorations brighter than the occasional spring dress.
I waited for the mimosas to come my direction, but the servers coming from the kitchen were all right-handed. When they hit the first bodies crowded in the foyer, they veered right and around a round wooden table with a sign-in registery and enormous flower displays. (more…)
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The old man’s afternoon began with an egg boiling, a ritual carried out at five minutes after five during the week and just after 4 on weekends. He had a small under-cabinet radio and he stood at the range and listened more than cooked, his mind half-listening and fully agreeing with conservative commentators. This was the routine: remove a pot from the metal drawer under the stove, turn the burner on so that it could heat, hold the pot under the faucet until it was a quarter full, then set it on the burner, watch the coils turn warm to orange, listen to the crackling under its metal bottom, and finally watch for the ripple through the water as it braced for something worse. (more…)
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Despite what might appear to be a growing infrequency in blog posts, I am still writing everyday at the same prodigious amounts as before. Much of what I’ve written the last few weeks has not been publishable. The quality has met my standards, but the pieces have either been personal or purely fictional accounts that begin well enough, then wind around on the page the way a treasure map might, and end up back at the beginning or off on their own course that is just becoming interesting when my attention wanes. I didn’t think those would be entertaining reads, though I am considering including them here in one big hodge-podge blog post. I believe I’ve done that once before and it worked well. I remember the creative sensation was like emptying my head, abandoning all the small ideas I’d kept lingering, hoping they’d turn to something more formidable, but instead wound up littering my e-mail in box. I almost write entirely now on my Blackberry and send myself occasional e-mail with chunks or full blog posts, then copy and paste them to the site through Word Press. The times I allow myself to write have moved from the early morning to the late night. Last week, there were a few times when I’d fallen asleep with the hand-held on my chest and the flashing red covering my face in small blips. Those are the best nights, when you’ve come home from a night out and the visions are still fresh. I don’t feel particularly inspired, but the words come anyway because what you’ve experienced is fresh material and given that writing is only half of the practice – the other is living – your writing feels new again. And when you are going through something that changes your viewpoint, your mind changes the way it perceives, and that adds another freshness. (more…)
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I wrote some material today, but nothing that I’d feel comfortable posting to this blog. The deeper I get into the writing process, the more intimate the experience tends to be. I suppose that if writing is really a love of my life, then the time that we spend together would naturally become more comfortable and the conversations would get deeper. I am learning to love the writing experience, the sound of the words in my head – and their company, too – more so than the end product. The end result is important, though seems to matter less and less in the long run. (more…)
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Revealation
Sunday, February 15th, 2009
White light opened in the sky replacing the dimming sun and it grew in brilliance as the other turned cold and red. In this new brightness a vision came clear and it was the Lord God Almighty sitting on a white throne. Light emanated from his body and it came in a constant flow in thin, needling beams, straight out with ends as sharp as knife points. The Lord’s body was nearly transparent, but he was real, and the only ghost in him was the needlessness for a body in Heaven. He looked down on the world with a sad face, for though it would be a glorious day for some, it would not be for everyone. He had given the world a chance to repent, to see the way to him, and for those who didn’t, this was to be their ending day. (more…)
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