tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post1488158684492999213..comments2024-03-24T11:17:10.498-07:00Comments on Unemployed Imagination.: 2 Minutes. Go!JD Maderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-1326071105382712792018-06-09T21:02:55.169-07:002018-06-09T21:02:55.169-07:00Love has never been readily available to me. I'...Love has never been readily available to me. I've had to work for it all my years, it's like love grows on some tall vine I've never been able to reach. Other people have been able to grasp it more easily, like my sister for example. It came to her in almost embarrassing amounts, never ceasing, even when I was convinced it would. But no. It was always, "She'll get better. I promise." or "Well, it just happened once. We'll let it go this time." Hate grows low for me, low enough for me to stoop and gather it. I have it in abundance in my hands. The source of my hate comes from the bottom of my heart, the pit of my stomach, not the tip of my tongue. And how can I imagine love when I've seen that it comes not from the heart but the mouth? The only possible answer is that the mouth is the only place their love can come from, because it seems there is none in their hearts.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15885259674981444189noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-624545494402559712018-06-09T17:05:19.809-07:002018-06-09T17:05:19.809-07:00Yeah, it feels a bit like it's all tied togeth...Yeah, it feels a bit like it's all tied together with binder twine and duct tape. Maybe a good punch in the face will shake some more words loose! Thanks, brother. Mild synesthesia helps with the painting/jazz thing!David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-89772897162136408892018-06-09T15:12:29.668-07:002018-06-09T15:12:29.668-07:00That movie is AWESOME. Thank you both for your kin...That movie is AWESOME. Thank you both for your kind words.<br />Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-20427454284329067372018-06-09T14:34:34.233-07:002018-06-09T14:34:34.233-07:00I agree with DA about the voice. As usual, you sti...I agree with DA about the voice. As usual, you stick the voice and the storytelling vibe is wonderful. JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-63086303530553824662018-06-09T14:30:40.264-07:002018-06-09T14:30:40.264-07:00Yep. And that slip of the three bullets is so noir...Yep. And that slip of the three bullets is so noir dope. And, interestingly, I watched V for Vendetta last night. I was PRIMED for this. :)JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-78094924600388963582018-06-09T14:27:52.188-07:002018-06-09T14:27:52.188-07:00This is how you write when you're jammed up? I...This is how you write when you're jammed up? I'm coming north to punch you in the face. ;) Seriously, though, I can see why you would doubt it, but I LOVE it. Because it is somewhat disjointed and stilted, the imagery and descriptions and word play just smack the everyloving shit out of me. Word painting. Yep. And, like they say about jazz, there is magic in the empty spaces.<br />JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-44398566661860226172018-06-09T14:20:44.948-07:002018-06-09T14:20:44.948-07:00I agree. There's something amazing about your ...I agree. There's something amazing about your short pieces, too. They are short and powerful with the depth and development you usually only see in long form. Well done.JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-77121714617540053222018-06-09T13:18:56.818-07:002018-06-09T13:18:56.818-07:00Leland that gave me chills! Great story and powerf...Leland that gave me chills! Great story and powerful ending.Sherryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00152385073423982362noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-69060376486459883412018-06-09T12:43:16.485-07:002018-06-09T12:43:16.485-07:00Oh... I like the ambiguity of this... your comment...Oh... I like the ambiguity of this... your comment makes me understand him more... Sadly, I think we've always had names for "others"... whether it was based on religion, skin color, affectional orientation, or whatever... we as a species seem to love the us vs. them mentality... <br />Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-12006867779887358122018-06-09T11:59:48.849-07:002018-06-09T11:59:48.849-07:00Well thanks! And then suddenly I'm looking at ...Well thanks! And then suddenly I'm looking at a couple of prehistoric teens exploring gender identification in the days before there were names for such things in a fallout shelter in the middle of a tornado. But I'm fascinated were we more tolerant when the labels weren't there? Hmmm<br />Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-62018053841234862342018-06-09T11:26:52.342-07:002018-06-09T11:26:52.342-07:00This has an absolutely nailed-on voice, and I love...This has an absolutely nailed-on <i>voice</i>, and I love how you get across those insights with humour: "as far as any of us knew, the Davises was decent folks, who, like all decent people, were only decent as far as they went."David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-68780726584588348682018-06-09T11:22:59.547-07:002018-06-09T11:22:59.547-07:00Again with that powerful understatement, Leland. I...Again with that powerful understatement, Leland. It's so much more effective when the huge (or yuge) stuff is handled quietly. You're so damned good at this. :)David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-33436468502496894372018-06-09T11:20:03.929-07:002018-06-09T11:20:03.929-07:00This place truly is special in its encouragement. ...This place truly is special in its encouragement. Thank you, my friends. David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-26042026928210789072018-06-09T11:15:42.854-07:002018-06-09T11:15:42.854-07:00Ha, brilliant! The plight of these families is mak...Ha, brilliant! The plight of these families is making me heartsick, but this piece cheered me. You handle it with great sensitivity, Laurie!David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-7705780407109344182018-06-09T11:10:34.175-07:002018-06-09T11:10:34.175-07:00There's that synchronicity again: we both talk...There's that synchronicity again: we both talk about ravens and wolves. Also, in the middle of this contemplative and nuanced piece, you still made me laugh (a tough balance you always manage to negotiate): "And I don’t mean to invite anybody on a guilt trip. Even though I’m packed and ready." David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-66920295775324226762018-06-09T11:07:12.102-07:002018-06-09T11:07:12.102-07:00Wow, yes. This hits home.Wow, yes. This hits home.David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-11555996332428096612018-06-09T11:04:44.961-07:002018-06-09T11:04:44.961-07:00Yeah, balanced is right. The others say it better^...Yeah, balanced is right. The others say it better^^^David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-49444880673515023742018-06-09T11:03:03.910-07:002018-06-09T11:03:03.910-07:00And that ending!And that ending!David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-45228650372110359482018-06-09T11:02:06.345-07:002018-06-09T11:02:06.345-07:00Brother, I freaking love this (and you know I don&...Brother, I freaking <i>love</i> this (and you know I don't like to overdo italics)! Seriously, you should submit it somewhere. David Antrobushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08486219404600185419noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-51153908475966823472018-06-09T10:37:17.060-07:002018-06-09T10:37:17.060-07:00Oh Dear, this one's suddenly begging to go lon...Oh Dear, this one's suddenly begging to go long...Oh well here's a snip<br /><br />We called Jimmy Davis One Time Jimmy because of his apparent inability to be with one girl more than one time. <br />He was about in the middle of an average family of seven kids or so, and as far as any of us knew, the Davises was decent folks, who, like all decent people, were only decent as far as they went. If anything, the only thing that distinguished Jimmy was that he was a genuinely beautiful boy; better looking than the lot of them combined. Blonde hair with a little bit of curl, sapphire eyes, those long, ropy muscles and the kind of a tan peculiar to blondes that gets only gold and never any darker.<br />But Jimmy was a hard one to figure. He worked his Daddy’s car repair in the same methodical way as his old man; never cheated, and never lied about the repairs you might need and those you didn’t. He understood machines. But when it came to women? Jimmy had what they might call these days a bonafide Attention Deficit Disorder. One date, one time. And he never called again.<br />Or it seemed to us, anyhow. I expect by the time I was 19 or so, Jimmy’s one timers coulda formed themselves a female support group that covered most of the Bible belt. Like most young women, and more than a few fishermen, we all went a little bit crazy; trying to land the one we thought we couldn’t have.<br />Marlene Troit personally dumped a half cup of sugar into the gas tank of her hand me down Pontiac, and Toni Wilson, who’d gone to the drive-in movie with him one Friday started spreading rumors that she was pregnant in the hopes that he’d call again. Of course, her regular monthly showed up 3 weeks later, which didn’t do much for her own reputation, but Toni never was one to think too far ahead. Funny thing was everybody who had gone out with him had pretty much the same story to tell afterward. A movie or a dance or maybe bowling, a stop by the drive in or the pizza place. Then he’d drop you off, kiss you on your cheek and go home. Always a perfect gentleman, he ever tried anything more, so naturally it made people suspicious. AnnaBeth Macy insisted her brother saw Jimmy one time in the locker room in the altogether and said Jimmy’s balls had never quite properly descended and that could explain everything. But we already knew that despite the intriguing possibility, Bud Macy was a regulation asshole with a football scholarship and probably just made it up.<br />I’d never met Jimmy myself; he was a couple years older than me and went to West while I went to Central, but even at that, word got around. It wasn’t until that night the tornados ripped through north of the railroad tracks and leveled just about everything in that part of town that I happened to meet him at all. I had a part time job after school at the TasteTee Shack and even though it wasn’t yet five in the afternoon, old man Kenney closed up and sent everybody home when he heard the warning on the radio.<br />And the weatherman wasn’t kidding, either. The sky was that strange greenish yellow that comes before the twisters do; the wind was up and the clouds were scudding across the sky in a stampede. I was just about a third of the way home, right outside the Davis’ gas station when the first of the hail hit. I slunk underneath the overhang and the rain came down, pounded on the tin roof of the place like a thousand baby fists. I was still gonna make a run for it, but then I saw Jimmy through the window, waving his arms like a crazy man for me to come inside.<br />Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-19539696902516499192018-06-09T09:15:41.658-07:002018-06-09T09:15:41.658-07:00Yeah. The starkness, the understatement. Beautiful...Yeah. The starkness, the understatement. Beautifully done.Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-21862579704505949402018-06-09T09:13:36.659-07:002018-06-09T09:13:36.659-07:00All those strung together moments, so beautifully ...All those strung together moments, so beautifully crafted. And yet so understated. Trying to think of an artist that paints the way you write, it'll come to me, I swear... Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-86146980270315587612018-06-09T09:07:02.697-07:002018-06-09T09:07:02.697-07:00And the crowd goes WILD!! The cheering in my head ...And the crowd goes WILD!! The cheering in my head is absolutely deafening! Go YOU!Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-31366741472180288722018-06-09T09:01:24.217-07:002018-06-09T09:01:24.217-07:00yeah that "enough" in the aftermath haun...yeah that "enough" in the aftermath haunts us all.Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-35574910141946608762018-06-09T08:59:55.066-07:002018-06-09T08:59:55.066-07:00When I awake, the sun is already near rising. I li...When I awake, the sun is already near rising. I listen through the open window for the hermit thrush that is my usual alarm. <br />There is only silence.<br />The katydids, the crickets, the sparrows—all are quiet. I rise from my bed, and look out the window. The eastern sky is an unearthly yellow, not the blood red and heady mauves I’ve grown accustomed to.<br />The dog whimpers, not to be let out, but in a corner. He is shaking, a reaction normally reserved for thunder and fireworks.<br />In the kitchen, I start the coffee. My hand finds the on button for the radio. <br />"We are unable to provide the usual broadcast of Morning Edition due to circumstances beyond our control. Please enjoy our selection of classical music this morning. We begin with Tchaikovsky's 1812..."<br />The announcer's voice is silenced by what I’d swear was a gunshot, and Tchaikovsky does not play.<br />I change the station. The all news channel is not playing the classical music.<br />"The president has declared martial law after a series of explosions ripped through the Capitol building. Law abiding citizens are advised to remain indoors as illegal rioters and looters are dealt with. Long live the president!"<br />I turn the radio off. I remind myself to breathe. I knew it was coming. I am surprised that it has taken this long.<br />I turn on the stove, and watch the blue flames under the cast-iron frying pan I inherited from my mother. I crack two eggs and hear the sizzle of the egg white hitting the hot metal.<br />When breakfast is done, I carry my bags, packed weeks ago, to the car. The gas tank is full. With careful driving, I might reach the border. And I rehearse my plea, in both Spanish and English, for mercy, for sanctuary.<br />And I pray I am not turned away. <br />I check under the seat for my plan of last resort. The cold metal of the Beretta reassures me. I know there are three bullets in the magazine. One for me, one for the dog, and one for bad luck.<br />I start the engine. It will be a long drive.The Hermithttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04070250252384180942noreply@blogger.com