Thursday, March 31, 2016

So they made it partway around the lake.....

She was about 85 and he was still only about 8.

They had gotten as far as Lifeguard Beach (Red Cross Beach), the sign for the House Site.

She was winded.

He was skipping stones and hitting his feet on the rocks under the water.

Suddenly, he had an image of her, of both of them, young and in love, but there was something...

They were sunning themselves and reading on a beach blanket. Not this day, another day, a day in summer.  She wanted to go to the House Site, he stopped her.  He grabbed her hand and she started as if he had touched her with fire.

And then again, they were the same age, but older, and it was Fall.  The leaves were beautiful but it was too cold to step in the water.  Their shoes were on, and the sand was not tempting.
He was sad about something, and she put her arm through his.

Looking each other full in their faces, their eyes, everything was taken in.  She said, "If I live forever, I'll never want to let you go. I'll always want to come back here.  To keep walking along these shores with you.  We are always safe here,"

And then-again-he was torn away.  A dragon, Thunder, fire, a blade coming close to his skin.  Pain. Pain. Pain. Darkness.  He was locked in, he kept banging at the door. Pain.

And then the old lady turned around.  "Let's keep going, I'm ready now,"

And he emerged from the water, a little boy of 8 years old, and led her gently by the hand, afraid to turn back and see the dragon that was hovering over the water.

Monday, February 15, 2016

Bus Stop outside an Old Folks Home

As a young woman, I have dreams of parts of my life.

As an old woman, I have dreams of being a young woman.

I've run through the streets, trying to get back to one of the places I've lived, without being able to remember which one it is.

Or the job, which I'm so proud of, and not remembering where it is or where my commute is headed.

I sit at a bus stop, in Deuseldorf Germany, and I forget everything in the space of that wait.

Once, I escaped, a young woman trapped, arrested, kidnapped, stuck in a facility with others, a German camp? We are denied our clothes and only have hospital gowns.

I am only 24, but when I look in the mirror, I see an old woman. I can't imagine what kind of drugs they give me.

The bus will never come.
I miss the sense of being on a bus, going somewhere. All the buses, in my hometown, to the big city, across the country, the shuttle twice a day.

I met myself. Again. Only an old woman.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

From the Viewpoint of the Sexy Tragic Muse

What if there was a girl who had to call 911 on her friend who was close to CS'ing??

What if she knew what it was like to be there herself??

Recursive story!!!

http://www.guerrillafeminism.org/mental-illness-and-the-male-gaze-anne-theriault/

Friday, December 25, 2015

Pond Story Structure and Purpose

Going back to the story, the side short story, about the child and the grownup who wander around Walden.  They keep that day perfectly in their memory, and it comes back to eahc of them in flashes, and in the stories they tell before going to sleep.

These are the moments they use to bring them comfort, to CALM them down.  The larger framework that holds the stories of the dragons.

When they are on the shore, it's an old woman who wakes up to a little boy.  They go 1/4 way around, and the boy is a teen and the woman gets younger.  1/2 way around they are the same age.  3/4 of the way, she's a teen and he's a man.  By the time they get back to the shore, he's old and she's a kid.  He asks to lie down on the sand and he goes to sleep=death.

ALSO: brother and sister on a completely HYPER-REALISTIC DAY. 

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Another Pilgrim Monument


I saw this building in Baltimore.
I saw this building in Provincetown.
I see it now, in my dreams, or in waking moments.
Where can I be now?

Monday, August 31, 2015

I still think of the boy

I'm scared now to see him
It's like once you grow up
You can never return to the little child
But what if he could
What if every drawing for every year captured his skin so that he could go back & inhabit it like a graphite cartoon.
As part o the walk around the Pond...