The day after rendezvousing at Rittenhouse Square in Philly, I felt sluggish, weary, cold, and uninspired. It took me a large portion of the morning to tap into my unknown energy reserve, then heave my typewriter over to the Princeton’s farmers market.
Sometimes all it takes is connecting with the right person to help you chart a course away from negativity and alienation. It wasn’t until Mona heard the dings and clacks of my typewriter that my outlook was, thankfully, altered.
Last month, I was lucky enough to meet and type for several members of the San Fernando Valley’s Junior Roller Derby team. I loved typing for each of the girls. Kristine, Ophelia’s mom, sent me these pictures.
Rain falling on chicken wire covered trees reminds me of Christmas lights strung along each branch down the boulevard.
To say it has been a while is an understatement. I stopped writing for the public sometime in October. Life sometimes moves in a way where I learn I only have the energy to keep up with myself. Since last autumn, I ended up driving through Mexico to learn Spanish, explore, and climb Mayan ruins; soon after, I impulsively bought a ticket to the east coast and stayed in Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey. I also fell in love.
Here’s a poem I wrote at one o’clock in the morning. The anonymous prompt is great: “ennui… and maybe I like it that way”
Last week at the Canoga Park Art Walk, I had the pleasure of meeting Julie. She’s the type of person who puts out an energetic vibe, and so I was very happy to write a poem for her based on the prompt “happiness.”
prompt: “That moment of excitement when you’re so passionate about what your talking about that you have no choice but to scream, squeal or just fall down dead.” I loved this prompt because I know exactly what you mean, so I hope this does it justice. Continue reading “People Like Us”
Sahar sent me this picture of the poem I typed for her at the Canoga Park Art Walk. We talked about the color orange and carrots and art 🙂 prompt: “why do we call oranges oranges and carrots, not?” (You can submit a poetry prompt here) Continue reading “ORANGE CARROTS” (untitled)