Saturday, January 16, 2010

Live in the Shadow of a Dozen Roses

Make a list of places where writing hides for you. Be specific.

- ginger pumpkin scented candles

- a good hug (you know, one of those you receive from a best friend you haven't seen in two years...coughAARONcough)

- inside jokes about bananas (a reoccurring motif in the lives of my sister and me)
- the moon and the stars

- music. all different types. right now I'm pretty sure it's The Beatles.

- my dreams. this is an important one. I keep a dream journal if that tells you anything.

- the smell of incense. fizzy pop incense. from sunshine day dream imports. the hippie store. where I bought my purse/bag. it's wonderful there.

- the vibrant color of green plants beneath flowing water. the picture I took at Trout Lodge comes to mind.

- the abstract, splatter-technique paintings of Jackson Pollock.

- the smell of autumn. of halloween. brisk, dry air. the trunk of decorations in our basement. carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns. all of these smells.

- the shape, color, texture of blown glass. actually seeing being crafted. the awe of a child in Hannibal.

- mysterious fairy rings, made of mushrooms and darkened grass, appearing in my front yard.

- Henry David Thoreau. I read Walden last summer and was delighted by the experience. I came across quite a few phrases that struck me. I wrote them down. One is, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

- In the place of beige ceramic tiles, pomegranate mango soap suds, and skin hydration. the shower.


entry: 31 august 2009

No comments: