My first Bogie period began in 1973, at Berkeley. It didn’t seem weird at the time, running around in Birkenstock’s and being crazy about that well-suited guy. I went through a lot of the oeuvre again at the beginning of the century (my, doesn’t that ooze with scope.) It’s amazing how different the cigarette smoke looks to us, isn’t it? But otherwise…there’s still a beguiling rhythm and charm. In Print
I’m bringing back Frazzle–a character I’ve been living with for many years and especially through this creative process. I finally found out his name when I was listening to Lotte Streisinger—potter, printmaker and author—reading from her recent book on the creative process. (The Potter and the Muse, 2006, Kalliope Press, available at The Museum of Contemporary Craft in
Time to laugh a little bit. And goodness knows, computer dating requires a sense of humor. Doesn’t everything?
I imagined talking to my former lover’s new squeeze. How frustrating that she was so worried about all the wrong things and missing the best he had to offer. If only I could tell her…but of course, no.
Also in print
These are four stories I wrote after I ran across a contest for stories of 100 words or fewer. It seemed like a crazy idea at first but I came to like trying to tell a story in this format. So did others. Click here to find the winners and think about the next contest yourself.
Also in print
Secret World
She was eight, I’d guess. She hid something on her lap. Crossing the room, I bumped her shoulder, hoping to see what it was. It looked fuzzy.
Recovered, her fourth finger stroked softly while she pretended there was nothing. No one else saw, I’m pretty sure.
She fell asleep before her mother bustled back in. Startled, she forgot her secret. The baby bird slipped to the floor, leaving a streak of blood. Her mother shrieked.
“That’s disgusting! We must wash your hands right now. What is wrong with you? Don’t you hear a word I say?”
No.
Before My Piano Lesson
Cat Woman, pale and severe, was systematic: first the older daughter; then the little one. She spit in her hankie and rubbed their faces. The girls were compliant.
Walking up the stairs for my lesson, I’d pray that Cat Woman would just read her magazine this week. I’d take out my book and wait to be called, but I couldn’t tear my attention from the wetting and washing. Maybe this time they would throw her off.
In my heart, they painted their mother with lip-crusts and filled her old-age with sweat-streaked, grass-stained boys.
I’ve come back to this very romantic piece for Valentine’s Day. Does the heart good–eh? It can be slightly rough on the other parts of the anatomy, though.
Sometimes we run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off–sometimes like a mad dog. What an animal! Mad Dog revisited.
I’m bringing this post back for Christmas week. I hope you enjoy the food, the drink, a few presents and most importantly–one another. We’re having the rare bit of snow and quiet it brings to this sometimes crazy time of year is a beautiful gift.
Sometimes we assume we know what’s going on. Sometimes we assume everyone knows what’s going on. And you know what they say about “assume?” But somewhere beneath it all it’s possible to find the spirit of Christmas.
Sorry this was down. Please try it again! Nobody knows we do this–well that’s almost true. But thousands of us sing a capella in huge choruses. So if you do it too or if you wonder what I’m talking about, listen.
