When I was 12, I went to sea. My parents hated me. I don't know why, they just did. I was a good kid. I just think I was a little too energetic. It all started when I threw my mom's car keys down the well out back of my house. Why did I do that? Well, it just seemed like the thing to do at the time. I saw it on TV, that was what I told her anyway. Yes, blame TV. Evryone always does, when we all know it all starts with parenting and your upbringing...but I digress....
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. The grip felt odd in my hand, and the barrel kept dipping down towards the ground. What would happen if I actually fired the damn thing? I was afraid it would fly back and smash my teeth out.
Nevertheless, I wrapped both hands around the grip as I had seen countless times on television and tried to steady the deadly steel. It wavered like my resolve at the sight of my nemesis, sprawled and harmless looking on the couch. But the second he awoke, he would look less like a sleeping kitten and...
Set down the light
set it down anywhere
The pure clean of a random weeknight on the coach staring at the white ceiling. So many balls in the air so much that I can not control. I have given control to others.
It is my human condition.
I will set this ball here on this perfectly lit field. Void of trouble. Maybe someday I will throw it to you and wonder, as I lay here in this white clean apartment,
will you throw it back?
The conversation lasted two words: Why now? The blank stare that met Angela's question was all the answer she needed. The time didn't matter, it never mattered. All that he was concerned about now was getting to the engine room.
Without looking back, she spun swiftly on her heel and stormed across the deck to the lift, already standing open, waiting for her. This was the day they had been waiting for, and she would be damned if she would allow something so trivial as a fleeting moment of emotion overcome her and destroy all that she had trained for....
I didn't see my first Lighthouse until I was 28 years old. When I did though it had the same sense of mystery and power that you always imagined Lighthouses to have from reading stories and poems in which The Lighthouse was the start attraction of the piece, seeming to not only guide ships in the night but hold the mysteries of the sea. I wasn't the only one to be so impressed with my first Lighthouse having to fight for a space against its tall walls to have my picture taken, alongside various other tourists, who'd made the trek...
La pirogue avait appartenue à son père. Il pêchait tous les matins. Chaque matin il tendait dans l'eau son bambou dans le calme du lac. Aucun bruit ne venait déranger son activité favorite, jusqu'au jour ou un ours l'appela depuis le rivage. L'ours voulait traverser la rivière et lui demandait combien cela pouvait bien coûter. Antinoma lui répondit qu'il lui en couterait 3 poissons. Il venait chaque matin et retournait bredouille vers sa case. L'ours saurait il lui apprendre à pêcher afin que son père du haut de son paradis puisse être fier de lui?
l'ours avait peur de l'eau....
That night everything changed. She would never think of the stars in the same way. Or the grass, or the flowers. In five minutes her whole perception of the world changed. She could acknowledge that the thoughts running through her head at that moment were not what she would have imagned she would be thinking in a scenario such as this. Her thoughts were clear and concise. Practical almost. She blinked. It hurt. A seering pain shot from her left eye through (what it felt like anyway) her brain. She tried turn her head to the left where she knew...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. Off, yes. around, yes. But on, absolutely not. No matter how many times he flipped the switch, no matter how many times he prodded it, shook it, swung it over his head, he could not get it to turn on. He decided to coax it. First he offered it things that humans like: chocolate, love and affection, sex. The lamp did not budge. Then he offered it things that his cat liked: mackerel, catnip, a laser. Nothing. He tried reasoning with it, but the lamp was dead to his entreaties. Look, he explained, you staying...
We come from beyond the stars. We are the Yorkie chocolate bars.
I was in Grade 4 and this giant living chocolate bar was walking around the schoolyard. We tried shooting it and pelting it with rocks. But nothing worked. The chocolate bar was too thick.
"YORKIE!" it screamed and then it tickled me. Or gave me a wedgie.
Man, I hated that thing. But I have to confess that in a weird way, I liked it too. Don't ask me why but for some reason, I sensed that it wasn't completely malevolent. No. Deep down, I knew there was...
When you got home you found me in the back corner of our not-quite-walk-in-sized closet, surrounded by shoes I hadn't worn in years, clothes I should have given away long ago, and miscellaneous scarves and belts and things that I hardly remembered owning.
I hadn't planned on ending up there, but washing the dishes led to laundry, which led to vacuuming, which led to looking under the furniture, which led to me finding that pin you had given me. I wanted to see the other things you had given me. When I was beautiful and you were kind.
I'm not...