Tuesday, August 31, 2010
“Not something I ever thought I'd post on Facebook, but the more of the masses I tell the less individuals. Mom passed away yesterday at 6:35am. It was peaceful and since her body was no more a habitable place really the best thing. She will be cremated Friday and we're planning a remembrance party for mid-September.”
I am young, preadolescent. Their house on Grant Street; the Canned Foods Outlet parking lot; the generous backseat of an ancient car. Ferried between school and choir; Julie embarrassed by her sisters (one with Down’s, one just a brat). Thanks for the ride, Ms. Kaiser.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Crossing the Westside highway, a beautiful brunette, who was shaking her umbrella off, nearly punctured my eye. I stepped around, hearing the words “I’m sorry.” “No problem.” I replied. I walked across and into the open rain again. Drenched and walking, the umbrella girl kept pace with me. As I reached Greenwich street, I stopped for traffic. My peripheral vision caught sight of the umbrella girl making her way to the front of the pack until the rain stopped falling on me. A smirk broke on her lips as I glanced at her. “It’s the least I owe you.” She said.
Consider an equilateral triangle. It contains a patchwork of my life. I have an infinite stack of these triangles onto which I may parcel my life. Life experiences are the currency of friendship and I barter these parcels with my friends. A nail connects all of my triangles at their center. When handed out, each triangle rotates around this fixed point to a slight degree from the previous triangle. The points of the triangle that don’t overlap are experiences that only you know. Everything else is known by all. The more life triangles I hand out, the less unique I become.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The alarm sounded as I was emerging from a dream. I had been sprinting through a field, heading toward a delectable flank steak my roommate had prepared. I shook the sleep from my eyes, hopped off the couch and stretched deeply. It suddenly hit me: a profound need to urinate. Immediately. I’d had a lot water last night after eating the granola bar I found under the couch. “Damn it!” I cried to my roommate. “Let me out!”
Jessica heard her dog begin to whine. He grew insistent. She’d just replaced the living room rug – again. She reached for the leash.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The old tribe met up tonight, joyous yet politely restrained, something I, for one, was conscious of, perhaps remembering too well how unleashed our expression was when we were friends as kids. We sat round the round table, throwing memories into the mix, like ingredients to a delicious slumber-party concoction, instantly resurrecting long lost feelings in our seance summoning the spirits of little girls. It was a gift to us all, lending a break from current circumstances, good and bad. It's nice to go on trips, some of us perhaps more eager to return than others. I myself could have lingered...
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Face frozen, hands shaking, face flushes, stomach drops, brain swirls, breath catches, lungs paralyze, voice disappears, butterflies dance.
"Did you hear what I said?"
Mind races, eyes drop, eyes lift, tears well, eyelashes blink, jaw clenches, goosebumps pop, fingers clench, head jerks, ears perk, muscles tighten, nerves tingle, memories shuffle, cheeks redden, eyes close.
"I said, every time that I look at you, you take my breath away."
Heart races, hope rekindles, desires pulse, butterflies explode, hearing ebbs, muscles loosen, eyes open, relief trickles, breath returns, butterflies sleep, lungs loosen, eyes shine, grin emerges, tears fall, eyes meet.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Today I found an espresso in the most unordinary of places. A tiny New York alley, a rusty fire escape, and a small window. Inclined to order two, sadly, “just one” I said. The coffee was aromatic, warm, and it glowed. Suddenly, coffee for one seemed just fine. Before long, a second cup appeared just at arms length, down the bar. Its bouquet was alluring. I savored that moment as memories of other coffee houses journeyed through my head. I found the courage to take a sip. It was the zenith of espressos. For now, it will be coffee for two.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I sat at her desk and couldn’t help but notice her striking good looks, a perfect arrangement of nose freckles on a chiseled face enveloped by golden brown skin. She possessed the kind of beauty that would instinctively force a man down on bended knee in the hopes of calling her his own. I glanced at her prominently placed business cards, which read, “Nixzaliz Tavares, Personal Banker.” “Nixzaliz? What an interesting name,” I quipped. “Greek,” she stated matter-of-factly. Although the conversation had run its course, I asked for her business card with the intent of gazing at this Greek goddess again.
101 words may be too many to string together when words are not your thing. To a writer, 101 words - just 101 words - is like a sweater that's too small -- there's not enough material to go around. This is why I like the constriction of Twitter's 140 characters; it's a challenge (for me anyway) to be concise and still aim for a narrative.
I've invited some brave souls, my friends, to participate in authoring 101-word stories. This is not new. Sites like 101 Words offer a platform for budding and established writers to publish their short stories.
So in collaboration with some brave souls, I'll be posting stories in the coming weeks -- stories assembled in such a way that they serve as succinct reflections of the writers themselves. If you feel moved to contribute, I - we - welcome it.
-House of G