An awesome article, with a message that applies to a variety of crafts.
Their provisions included seagrams and coke and lip gloss,
Their clothing not at all appropriate for the trek across stone
And sand and glass and beach litter,
The road to the mountain full of teenage anticipation and expectation
The promise of nothing and everything.
They could see it from miles away,
Magnificent metal rising from surf
Chaotic colors screaming sex and summer,
Look at me, Look at me, I could be your girl!
They stood at the base and watched the machine,
Sweat and cigarettes and a little more seagrams
Then bravely into the belly, secured by all means of hooks and bars
And men with muscles, forward, reverse, faster, faster,
Do you want to go faster?
They danced in the neon sea, starlets on the boardwalk stage
Playing the part they rehearsed every day.
Drunk and daring, moonstruck and oh so terribly hopeful,
Everyone drawn to that magic mountain,
A nod to my birthplace and the most iconic teenage classroom and playground of all time, the Jersey shore.
Well, they tempt you, man, with silver
And they tempt you, sir, with gold
And they tempt you with the pleasures
The flesh does surely hold
They say Eve tempted Adam with an apple
Man, I ain’t goin’ for that
I know it was her pink Cadillac.
Crushed velvet seats
Ridin’ in the back, cruising down the street
Waving to the girls, peelin’ out of sight
Spending all my money on a Saturday night
Honey, I just wonder what you’re doin’
In the back of your pink Cadillac,
Pink Cadillac, pink Cadillac. – Bruce Springsteen, with a few changes ‘casue that’s how I like to sing it.
“Sometimes I think of myself up in a satellite, and I’m looking down at America, or anywhere, really, but I usually imagine America, and all these little lights are blinking on and off, and each one represents a woman’s orgasm. That’s what ‘simultaneous orgasm’ really should mean – the awareness of of all those women’s orgasms simultaneously going on. Maybe the women who are reading while they come create a sightly different flare of infrared color than the ones who are imagining something or coming in their sleep. I see them all.” – Nicholson Baker
photo credit: lovethesepics.com
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. – Wendell Berry
I stopped trying to write nature poetry after receiving this poem as a gift. What was left to say, how could it be said any better?
photo credit: seagrant.wisc.edu
I worked ten years designing a small magazine and never considered myself an artist. And I suspect it will take me as long, if not longer, to consider myself a writer. But here I am, peddling my wares, my stories, a virgin blogger, curious and compelled to add my voice to a world that can’t stop talking. I’m not at all sure what I will blog about (and I really hate the word blog – too much like blah, blah – probably for a reason), but please come back for poetry, a short story perhaps, musings, memoir. I encourage you to write, to put your thoughts to paper, real thoughts, no hash tag snippets or insta-anything, but real words in complete sentences, for that is what led me, at least, to clarity and understanding.
Please take a look at a new, erotic fiction anthology, put together by New Urge, which includes an excerpt from my upcoming novella, The near Transformation of Claire. It is an exceptional cast of women writers and I am honored to be a part of this mix.