Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!
Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
You open your eyes to two big, soft expanses of truth, thin blonde hairs against your cheek - your subconscious, resting, does not need any reminders about this. The rest of life is still an enigma, this is not. A small body climbs into the warm bed, and you hope she'll sleep so you can hold her. She moves so fast these days.
The house is sleeping, and you hear the creak of old wood, the heartbeat of family, the slap of limbs against the eaves. This is a dark green time. A time to close your eyes and try to decide what pancakes taste like. You've always wondered, for they are just the canvas.
Everything around you is just the canvas, and you smile, think: we have painted well.
And you know the day will unfold with quiet moments, loud, sudden arguments and petty grievances: this is life. You know it. So, enjoy the moment, for you never know how long it will last.
Another Christmas, still snug in it's chrysalis, is tapping on the door. You smile, wondering what's in store. Commercialism, sure. We've messed Christmas up pretty good. But there will also be games and jokes and simple things - damn important things.
Another Christmas, still snug in it's chrysalis, is tapping on the door. You smile, wondering what's in store. Commercialism, sure. We've messed Christmas up pretty good. But there will also be games and jokes and simple things - damn important things.
You do the best job you can. I will do the same. It's all we can do. And a massive feat. But I'm slipping, dipping. Call me a cheat.
Right now, there are pancakes to eat.
#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...