inque

My new ink is finished, I think. Me likes, and am already thinking about the next one. Thanks Ashley at 522 Tatoo.

words

I got some writing advice last weekend.
From non-writers. A fair amount of whiskey was involved. And, I asked for it. I was feeling stuck on a particular story ending and decided to solicit some help.
For me, talking about a story in progress ranks pretty high on the discomfort list, right up there with dental work and public speaking. It's hard to talk about writing and I don't want what I'm working on to sound trivial or unimaginative.
But, I asked, they answered, and I took mental notes. I made revisions this week, and now I'm letting them settle. When I go back in a week or two, we'll see how it feels.
*
Trying to find the thread, man. It's a lifelong quest.

tentglow

Finally had some time to get out to the coast last weekend. Even though the weather has turned mercifully cooler, there's still a burn ban, so the only fire possible was the candles I posted outside the day tent. I enjoyed a day of outdoor work: finishing the driveway gate, pulling out brambles, clearing the septic field, sweeping and scrubbing. Then, a gentle hit from the pipe, and it was beer o'clock. Birds rustled blissfully in the misty alders, and nearby, a frog croaked.
*
Scroll down for today's writing soundtrack, dj Shmeejay.

looking for patterns

I broke a necklace and a bracelet over the weekend.
My rental car got a flat tire.
My alarm didn't go off this morning.
And as I waited for the bus, a man boarding the D-line got his foot caught in the disabled ramp and screamed like a stuck pig.
A pattern of unfortunate events?
Who knows?
Good things happened too: I saw pink-glazed clouds at sunset on Sunday, I went dancing and played a card game with friends, I heard frogs croaking on a coastal visit, and yet all I remember is the broken chain, the mad rush to shower and get to work, the screams of an agitated rider.
C'mon now. The pattern is life.
*

my shrink, the ceo

My shrink runs our sessions in a very businesslike manner.
We meet at the same time each week. We work through the same agenda: ritual breathing to relax, recap of last visit, any new business, then on to the topics at hand.
She wears variations on the same outfits--1970's Mary Tyler Moore chic, loose slacks with matching vests, long-sleeved stretchy shirts, no prints.
Once a month we analyze where I'm at, with 3 separate measures.
And for gnarly problems, she busts out the white board.
It's a lot like work, only the project is me.
*
For so many of the situations I bring to her, the answers are the same, too.
You have little to no influence here.
You can choose understanding, acceptance.
*
I've been discovering the photos of Saul Leiter. Snapshots of mid-century NYC. I'm drawn to the layers, the filters--windows of a shop or a taxicab, rain or snow, half-glimpses of a face or a hat or a breast. He evokes such  feelings of recognition and longing.

"you're"