Saturday, June 11, 2016

So Serious Saturday #29

Fiction needs a basis in reality. Exercising non-fiction muscles once in a while benefits an active imagination, channeling creative energies as it focuses on a subject. So Serious Saturdays will be an active place for critical essays or writing about reality in the context of real events - even when it is not written on Saturdays.

Type: Philosophical/Journal
We Are the Ant Men

          I took a broken end of a broom handle and jabbed it into the plumb black spider I had cornered in a stucco well.
          It died on initial impact. No one’s suffering had to linger.
          I wiped its crumpled body across the concrete and tried to see if I could still recognize any observable parts. The spider was not so plump as before, but still leggy.
          I returned to the flower beds for a moment to see if any other creature had decided to come out to view my weeding. When I sat back on my haunches again, the remains of the spider had attracted interest from the steady ant stream along the concrete alleys.

Saturday, June 4, 2016

So Serious Saturday #28

Fiction needs a basis in reality. Exercising non-fiction muscles once in a while benefits an active imagination, channeling creative energies as it focuses on a subject. So Serious Saturdays will be an active place for critical essays or writing about reality in the context of real events - even when it is not written on Saturdays.

Type: Philosophical/Inspiration


Self-Image, As Reflected By A Doll

          I was watching the local news when I saw a story about a girl receiving a doll with a prosthetic leg. The story could have stopped there, with the idea of how toy makers should create wider diversity in dolls, but what made the video go viral was how the little girl reacted.   
         Oh, and did I mention the little girl also has a prosthetic leg?

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Campus Ruin

To UCLA:

Helpless,
I stare at the news broadcast,
unable to change events.
I have no powers of flight –
no shields, no blast rays
nor guns; no gift to
make it disappear.

All I have are words.