sept. 11, 2001 was on my calendar with a note scrawled on it in black ink - give blood, it said. There was nothing peculiar about this note because a few times a year there were different days in different calendars with a similar sort of scribble.
(more) Give blood 9/11/01 was only strange on 9/12/01 thinking back on the day when steel and flesh met fire and force and lost. That morning I was holding the phone staring slack jawed at the television screen. My father's voice in the phone sounded strange through the distorted sobs filling my ears. Where was that crying coming from? Where was my brother? He was working in Manhattan that day. No one had yet heard from him. I told my father I had to go.
I was in Seattle, it was 9/11/01 and I had an appointment to give my blood.
It's impossible to describe but you know it when the waves hit your eardrum because they rattle discordantly.
(more) Blah, blah, blah, BLAH, blah, BLAHBLAHBLAH (me), blah (more me) blahbittyblahblah and (back to me). (less)
It started with the squeaky hot dog and ended with the spawning salmon. A litany of loveworn stuffed animals took up residence on our floors, mapping out impulse checkout purchases, late night guilt-soaked indulgences and happy go lucky afternoon hallway sessions.
Each delivery was received with full t(more)hrottle canine exuberance though not all were loved equally. Viewed from above, their positions on our wood floors painted a solar system of attachment. Closest to him, like his sun, warming his side was the spotted cow. Hidden under the sofa: the forgotten chicken that looked good once, but has seen better days now. Around the corner, tucked near the underplayed guitar, roundish, far away is Jupiter in the form of a ratty tennis ball.
At the pet store, the new ones are lined up, like shiny undiscovered stars he will see in his next incarnation. (less)
She teetered on the edge. The smell was intoxicating. The others were already there, some deep in the drink, others hoovering nearby, their water cooler chat turned up in color and intensity. The view over the edge was dramatic; pitched far below a sea of deep red, the bouquet redolent(more) of cassis, earth, ripe fruit. A sudden wind picked up and she began to lose her balance - it was decision time, fly forth with the others or stick to the sidelines always watching, never drinking it in. She began to descend, her wings slightly aloft - today she became a real fruit fly. (less)
There is a little used language spoken in a hamlet of Uzbekistan. The word "grocery" pronounced "groz surrey" means large bicycle and the word "shopping" pronounced "chapingstan" is defined by locals as chopping into small bits. When the people in this tiny village go grocery shopping, they gather in(more) the town square and take hatchets to Cannondales in a peculiarly Eastern European tradition that brings no food to the table but feeds the soul. (less)