If you have the time, read the instructions from the earlier blogs and join me in object writing. Object of the day: delivery
The bell rings, and like Pavlov's dogs I initiate a reaction without thought. This sudden feeling of excitement and wonder has been instilled in me since I was a child. Who could it be? What do they want? Is it dangerous? These thoughts race through my head until I open the door to a sudden feeling of disappointment. No one is there. I look around the neighborhood that I grew up exploring. The sounds of a distant cicada pierce the silence of the scorching day. I start to leave when something catches my eye. A package. The feeling of curiosity, previously fleeting, now emerges in full force. Is it for me? Is it money? Who is it from? Again questions flood my child-like mind. I reach for the box, and its cardboard exterior feels like velvet on its frayed edges. I shake it, but no noise is made. I rush to the kitchen and place it on counter, as I rummage through the myriad of utensils. I pause. I didn't even see who it was from. There's no return address. My previous mission of searching for a knife becomes moot. I rip open the box and find an even smaller box. It has my wife's name on it. Who would send this package with no return address? I immediately begin to open the package. A notebook. A notebook with a male's name on it that smells like its been sprayed with some cheap cologne. Curiosity is replaced with rage. This mysterious package has taken control of my life in just 5 short minutes.
This one took a life of its own. Let me know what you write!
So I've been slacking on the blog, but so have you! Object of the day: power outage
Everything went black. Along with the lights, every constant sounds familiar with everyday life, that had previously been taken for granted, left. In their place was void, fear, and confusion. I cuss the rural power company as my newly formed setting became evident. The smell of smoke and "the Birds of Paradise" tease my nostrils as the sound of a match sanding against its coffin reveals its purpose. My wife enters the room with a look of aggravation and slight fear. I join her in searching for candles as the sound of our neighbors gathering pierces through our windows and into the dark of our recently painted home. The smell of our refurbished counters grows faint as I head into the back. An unfriendly but familiar density immediately surround my body as if I had dove into a fresh pool of fear. Cliche I know, but you're not the one writing and the feel of the air changing within every orifice of my body could not be described any other way. This fear is one that has culminated through years of poor judgement in movies.
Even recently, a preview of a woman crouched in the most submitting way, with the look of hope escaping her eyes as two ghoulish hands snuff her one pathetic candle with a clap just west of her stone cold face, has been playing at every commercial break. The main problem with is is that my mind loves to keep those images on replay like a bad call at the Egg Bowl. Fortunately for me (or unfortunately for you in sarcastic jerks), I too had one lone candle and even the slightest noise would send me high steppin' like the Sonic Boom..
And that's where my timer went off. Remember no rules for formal writing apply. Just have at it.
Hello everyone. I am starting a little project that involves you. For about a month now, I've been doing something called object writing. All you do is take ten minutes out of your day and write about one object/subject. Write to the basic sensual faculties of: Sight, Taste, Touch, Smell, Sound, and even your Kinesthetic senses (bodily sensations/movements). You don't even have to use proper grammar, sentence structure, or anything that your English teacher emphasized throughout school. It doesn't even have to be a story. Most of mine are because...just because. I would love for you to join in this project. Any and all are welcome, and I will try my best to post an object/subject a day and what I wrote. Hopefully your writing will influence mine, and mine yours. Here is an example of what I am talking about: Cornfield
The sun's light seeped through the waves of green; lightly touching my skin while simultaneously igniting a slight burning tingle on the back of my neck. The smell of sweat mixed with the scent of sweet corn and dried dirt, filled my nostrils. Every now and then a martin would swoop by, singing praises for the food it had just obtained for its five crying babies on some old southern gentleman's front porch; nestled away in some thicket between a sky blue ceiling, and the cool red brick that had been there for ages. I stop to think of the cool air under that porch with me in its cover; while keeping time with every creak of my rocking chair and feeling the cool, crisp bite of sweet tea trickling down my throat like a freshwater spring. Whoosh! My thoughts are interrupted by a hurling object, barely grazing my ear with a tickle, and a...
And that's when my time ran out. See, I didn't use the right punctuation and I had something that resembled Faulkner's run on sentences. Even if all you make is a list of things you think about, please participate. Message me, comment, e-mail, or if you have my number text me. Hope to see some good posts. It's really therapeutic. Today's word is: Uncle.
Just got in from Texarkana, TX where I have been visiting family and recording my new demo! Please support the cause. Half of all sales on "Base It On a Feelin'" goes to charity!