Words a Week: Deuce Ex Adoption

Week 2 of 2 weeks of words!  This one is dark, probably has some psychological triggers and certainly has adult themes and language. I had some problems keeping tense as I like present tense, because it falls out of my mouth better. It also started from a more neutral “they” perspective, but it ended up about her. Time is a tricky thing, and I feel like this would have really been excellent if I’d had a more regimented writing time per day. This is not where I saw it going. But per usual, this was rushed when I could fit it in on lunch breaks…  I still like it.

She placed the baby on the hood of the car and looked down at what she had done. It was late; 3 o’clock in the morning, but it was hard to tell.  Had this been a different time or a different place, she thought they would have taken him home. Chances were, that life would take over and things would work out, even if the odds seemed stacked against them. That is what she told herself before reality set in. Soon considerations had to be made, scenarios played and replayed until the hope withered and died within hearts and the world won. So there they were, looking at the baby on the hood of the car.

“We should name it.” her voice was an exercise in sorrow. Worn and depleted from bringing this child into the world. She smoked her cigarette and considered the life before her. It was tiny and quiet; full from her breast.

“I like Mable.” She took another drag as the baby clasped her finger. It was dark. The nearest street light an anemic witness.

“I don’t care, we need to get rid of it.” coke boy croaked. He was not so contemplative and he stepped away to continue pacing.  In no uncertain terms he had told her his life was over; he’d confided that he wanted nothing to do with this, but he’d help get rid of it. There goes college. Joining a band: gone.  Sure he didn’t know how to play an instrument but now that was gone, too. His dad would kill him.

“Besides, Mable is a cow’s name.” (more…)

Words a Week: Merriam

This is part of my self-development cycle where I push my creative juices out of my body and on to the public stage. It may be good, it may be silly, but it is. Cheers. 

Merriam didn’t want to change. She liked things exactly as they were. Before her was the embodiment of exactly not that. Her hands were white knuckled fists. She shook and she watched. She could barely breathe let alone form a sentence to convey how disappointed she was. Thoughts of violent rage swirled with thoughts of compromise of how she should be tolerant of others but this was hers. Her place, her things and her life. 

So she did what she always did when faced with change. She kept very still. Like a stone or a great tree and she waited for her feelings that bid immediate violent action to subside. Soon the fire was a smolder and soon the smolder a single, cherry red coal of ire; never out completely, but redirected. Never out. (more…)

On Corning Beefs

Neither being Catholic nor a heavy drinker, I used to wonder why I liked St Patrick’s day so much. Well, you’ll find no answers here about that!  But I do like corned beef…

Corn that beef!

Human animals love some corned beef. Super useful for keeping meat for a long time, salt curing has been around as long as we’ve been staying in one place for extended periods, ~10,000 years.  Everyone does it, but corned beef is especially popular in Irish, English, Jewish and Filipino cooking.  Ireland exported a lot of it during the Potato Famine, but couldn’t afford to buy it. Partially because the English were dicks. But what the heck is corning anyway?


Premature Dissemination

The problem with writing, for myself anyway, is that I often can’t think worthy or writing about. Most of my Facebook stuff is fluff or reactionary. Maybe someone said something silly about vaccines or politics or race or religion. Pleading or yelling at someone that they are, or I am not, drinking the Kool-Aid of whatever philosophy they, or I, subscribe to. And by Kool-Aid we mean bullshit. We really think that the other person is delusional and worthy of suspicion of motive and if not motive, they are stupid for falling for it at the very least.  This goes both ways. I am surprised that I have friends with alternate philosophies at all.  But I try to remain civil. So what does this have to do with writing? (more…)