writing

I love…

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

I love puppies.  I call all dogs, regardless of their age, puppies, but in this instance, I am talking about newborn puppies.  I love their glossy fur, round bellies, and milk smell.  I love the little noises they make when they suckle.  I positively chortle with delight when they try to walk or jockey for position to reach one of mama’s nipples.

The Creator was in a good mood the day puppies were made.

I love coffee first thing in the morning.  Fresh and piping hot.  I wrap my hands around the mug and hold it like it is the Holy Grail leading me to redemption.  I love the aroma and will breathe it in with the steam.  Once in a while, I will pour heavy cream into it until it is the color of dark caramel.  The richness of the cream coating my tongue.

Morning coffee is my daily ritual – my must for starting the day.

I love the beach in summertime.  I have a low chair that allows me to dig my feet into the sand as I stretch out, my mug of coffee with me in the morning, and a ridiculous umbrella drink in my right hand in the afternoon.  I sit there and I watch people and I watch the ocean and I meditate on the sand.  I do not read.  I do not write.  I do not think.  I just sit and let negative ions from the crashing surf pour over me until my skin begins to redden -the signal that I need to get out of the sun. 

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My intentions are good.

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I like writing unless I have a formal project to work on and then I procrastinate it.  I do a lot of head-writing but don’t put it on paper.  Fear of failure?  Needing an adrenaline surge to produce?  Right now, I have hanging over my head, an article that I need to write from an interview of one of my all-time favorite people.

Photo by Martha Dominguez de Gouveia on Unsplash

I think this piece will get a reasonably large readership.  Everyone knows her and everyone loves her.  She’s more fun than a box of puppies. 

I like having an audience.  I do write to know what I think, but I also write to be read.  Of course, I have some pieces that will never see an editor’s pen, but others I want out there for anyone to read at will. 

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Calypso

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It is cold as shit in here and I have a Calypso earworm in my head.  Daylight come and I wanna go home.  Like reggae, it’s impossible to be anything but happy when the music is blaring.  And blaring it is.  I want to go home — home where things are organized and orderly and sane.  I am home, but my home is anything but what I need it to be.  Still, I’m oddly cheerful.

Photo by Stéphane Juban on Unsplash

Greek mythology says Calypso was a nymph who kept Odysseus on her island for seven years promising him immortality, but he preferred to go home instead.  I can understand that.  I want to go home too, but technically I am home.  Home is just not very homey right now.

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Magic Potion

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

When I was a teenager, I wanted a magic potion, or cream or salve, that would rid me of acne for all time.  As with all good magic potions, it had a dark side in that there would be adverse side effects, but I was willing to live with those.  I wanted to be clear of acne.  I still do.  How can I be 63 and still have acne?

When I was older and began to realize the impact of time passing, I wanted to be able to store memories never to forget them.  “I want to always remember this,” I would say.  I’ve forgotten so many of those moments, but I remember saying it.

Photo by Jan Ranft on Unsplash

When I was older yet, I wanted a potion to keep my son young and innocent and safe.  I still want that potion.  Especially as he traverses the horror that life can be when things go awry.  I want to wave a magic wand and make it better. 

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