Monday, October 31, 2011

Blogging in November

Sunday, October 30, 2011

A Coffee Fix

An unexpected October snow storm and our entire town lost power at 4:00 a.m. When I Iooked outside this morning I viewed a tableau of trees either bent low bowing to the ground or supine on the earth. C shaped evergreen branches swung back and forth keeping time with the wind.

We set out to find a warm place and a cup of coffee. The Starbucks ten minutes away was open. While I searched for a parking place my partner went inside to get on line and secure a table for the long stay.

Over forty people snaked around a display of coffee, cups manufactured in China, tables occupied by people on computers or reading, past a counter of accouterments coffee afficiandos add to their brew, and seven stacked boxes of dispenser napkins, paper cups, and straws.

The word spreads-- " There's no more food."

I'm content. We have a table. I'm connected and my new book waits-- Indigo: In Search of the Color that Seduced the World by Catherine McKiinley.

Saturday, October 29, 2011


The computer decided to ignore my commands and set off on its own path, but then life necessitates grooming a way. And that way. I must stop there because as soon as I write way I am capitulated into territory carved out by someone else. The Way, as if you can stipulate a word as belonging to you.

If I withdraw from this behemoth and pick up my pen I can envision commanding the instrument to obey my thoughts, but if the pen leaks and my words disappear beneath a puddle of deep black ink all is lost --save what is in my memory.

I recently read a book about people who spend hours each day learning how to memorize playing cards, binary numbers, telephone numbers, assorted words without any connection to one another.

Resort to a ball point pen or a pencil, but they each hold within their innards drawbacks. Who hasn't smudged a ball point and watched a letter slide into another letter changing the meaning. Or suppose you pick up your pencil by the wrong end and in a moment of exhilaration erase some words . What is left, but shards.

Then I'll gather the shards like an archeologist of words and create a mosaic of thoughts. Rather than plod on with a weighty tome no one reads, I'll weave a short pithy piece that is 140 characters long or rid myself of all detritus, of all non-essentials and write a six word story.