September 2011
30 posts
No. 343
It is lunch time. I am between the ages of eight and ten. It is cold; I have on sensible, sturdy clothes, and my longish hair adds a valuable layer of extra insulation. I am eating the lunch my mom packed me, my friend and deskmate is eating her lunch next to me, and the rest my classmates are moving about.
One of them plays with my hair a little. “You have lice!” she shrieks. This is...
No. 342
Hello, stranger. You were biking west today across a quiet intersection, stranger, and I had to slow down to let you cross my path. That’s why I had time to see you - not just to look at you, but to really see.
You were on a bike. I was on a bike. I like bikes and I like the people who ride them, so I started out liking you. But that wasn’t all; you were on a bike, in a suit. I like...
No. 341
In the morning I get in a big bus with big people. I pick at a scab and my teacher gives me a look when I ask for a band-aid because I know I’m not supposed to pick scabs. We line up for recess. Nicki doesn’t hold my hand because it’s too hot. We line up for lunch. I like crunching the leaves on the sidewalk when I walk home from the bus stop with my brother. Mom is at home. Dad...
No. 340
You say, “But that isn’t all,” and leave. What does that mean, “But that isn’t all”? More to the point, what doesn’t it mean? Why would anyone be so maddeningly vague? Here’s what I imagine to be the only good reason to say “But that isn’t all” to someone and leave:
You are dashing off to strap on running shoes or hop on a bike/in...
No. 339
Sometimes I wish I were an architect. Sometimes I wish I were a bird. Sometimes I wish I were everything at once, and sometimes, nothing at all.
I wish that I were well versed in the behavior of building materials so that I could design halfway plausible buildings instead of completely impossible dream castles. I wish that I knew how carpentry worked - how wood likes and doesn’t like to...
No. 338
The squid wriggled, amorphous, in the space between the kid’s pencil and paper. He stared so hard at the blank wall space in front of him that a squid seemed to wriggle between his eyes and the wall, too.
Graphite smeared across the white expanse of paper on his knee. He refocused his laser gaze on his sketchbook, where the outline of a squid’s mantle was solidifying rapidly. The...
No. 337
The house sat comfortably on its hill, leaking music and the scent of biscuits. Its shutters were open; though the porch was empty, several figures danced just inside the picture windows. Two newlyweds floated down to the first floor and were absorbed into the thrum of activity at the heart of the house. One pulled out a portable chess set. One distributed hugs.
Rain drummed its fingertips on the...
No. 336
The woman stood on her tiptoes to survey the room while she spoke into the mic. “I want everyone to hold hands in a big circle, and if you’re at the back, don’t worry, there’s an end to the circle somewhere that you can grab.” She circumvented the monitor in front of her mic stand, and kept talked as she made her way to the middle of the audience. “Remember how...
No. 335
A tea date; warm rain misting the sidewalks outside. Idle conversation drifting out of our mouths. How was your day? I have an exam soon. What have you been reading lately? A lull. More rain.
“Someone asked me the other day what nationality I consider myself to be.”
Mmm, tea. Sip. “What did you tell them?” Sip again.
Grin. “Half German, half Spanish, allll...
No. 334
We were sitting on the radiators in the mudroom, determinedly minding our own business. Getting the maximum enjoyment out of the class basketball while simultaneously hiding it from the other kids for the duration of recess wasn’t easy, but we tried hard. The delicious fear of being found out but also the delicious invincibility of being ready to fight hung in the air around us.
The girl...
No. 333
A Writer’s Plea to the World, or: From a Lover to a Lover.
Always remember me in technicolor detail. Shape my lines around french curves and shade them in. No stray marks. Curl my fingers; straighten my legs; make my toes able to balance the rest of my body; add hair to my head until it grows fast enough to engulf small objects in its quest out of my scalp. Construct my body with attention...
No. 332
One day, out of the blue - on a day probably no different from any other - the world will end. Just flat out stop. Time will run into a brick wall, hearts won’t beat, limbs won’t move, sound will suddenly be muffled and buzzy. Everything will be over. Done.
And then it will go on.
Mad, right? Bonkers. How can the world end but still keep turning? Here’s the key: it...
No. 331
When does something end?
When you hear its voice for the last time? There’s a ringing in your ears where its sound has always been, should be, can’t possibly not be. You know that, as soon as you lose it, that particular frequency will never again be included in your aural spectrum.
When you know the end is coming? If you’re fortunate enough not to be surprised, if you have the...
No. 330
“Wait. Wait wait wait. Office sex is covered by Emily Post?”
“Every time Sam and Frodo could theoretically hook up, you have to take a drink.”
“You guys are going to have to stop talking about this, you’re cracking me up. All I hear is ‘Schnitzel! Oh yeah I’ve had schnitzel! I like schnitzel! Schnitzel schnitzel schnitzel!’ “
The...
No. 329
The two girls rolled on the lawn, delighted by each other, the blue sky, their music, the images on their laptop screens, the breeze - by life. They wiggled their toes, shared their coats, and grinned until their faces split and tears crawled down the cracks. One pointed into the trees mid-sentence.
“A bird of prey!” They watched it circle. “Another one!”
The birds looked...
No. 328
Bin gerade vom Deutschunterricht gekommen, war super. Wir haben über die Stasi geredet, und Dissidenten in der DDR, wer so verhaftet wurde und wieso, und wie es ihnen danach ergangen ist… grausam. Unglaublich, was einige - viele! - von ihnen durchgemacht haben.
Der Unterricht hat mit meinem Referat zu Juri Orlow angefangen, der ist noch am Leben, stell dir vor! Er hat im Zweiten Weltkrieg...
No. 327
(This post is a creative challenge to rework a post on helio365isms’ brother blog.)
Ever said something out loud for no reason whatsoever?
“Give it.”
Why ‘give it’? Why not have something like “Hi there” be the first words you’ve said all night? Maybe ‘give it’ just felt like the right words to form after that extended silence, like a...
No. 326
It is night. The crickets have turned up their song; windowsill plants shake their leaves out in the breeze. A collective waking yawn goes through the curated collection of windowsill curiosities.
Dangling in a place of honor in the middle of a prominent window, the anglerfish bobs its lure. It turns gently about its point of suspension, surveying the view outside before slowing to face its...
No. 325
The scene begins innocuously enough; a well-lit gym, gymnastics equipment spilling onto the mats rolled out over the floor, adolescents going through various stages of strength conditioning and stretching. At first, one mat is full of cartwheelers and another is taken up by people practicing handstands; the remaining two are speckled with something that looks more like yoga than tumbling....
No. 324
Somewhere in the great cosmos, there is a room. It is made of mattresses. They’re stacked three deep on the floor - if there even is a floor - with a wedge cut out just far enough to let the door open halfway. Stuffing wiggles out in tiny increments, but as long as the door is opened carefully enough that none of it escapes the room, it makes no difference. The whole room is afloat in...
