16 Comments

LOVE LOVE LOVE this.

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LOVE LOVE LOVE this.

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Wow! This such a fun challenge🙂

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I jotted this down in about 2 minutes so I wouldn't over think it. So here goes. It's from the novel "My Life as a Rat" by Joyce Carol Oates.

“Turning his eyes from her, the bloated white belly, flaccid thighs, breast like a cow’s udders.”

Can’t escape the indelible image

I cringe at the thought

Maybe return to the Motherland

Get drunk and forget it all

No patience for fatherhood

It’s not my fault

But possibly my flaw

Lost in the path of what might have been…but isn’t

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I don’t have any books of fiction so I’m going to try it with Debbie Fords Dark Side of the Light Chasers ... are you interested in seeing what we write Allison?

Thank you for this exercise

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Yes!! Please post.

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It was my turn to shrug (Bernard Cornwell, War Lord)

I just don’t know

I want to do these things before I die,

But what will people think?

I am very self conscious about it

Am I good enough?

Do I dare risk failure?

I just don’t know

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From Pamela Lu’s Ambient Parking Lot

“We found ourselves standing in a mini-mall amidst a crowd of blasé evening shoppers, mere blocks away from the park”(8).

The potential for nothing or trouble is always present.

It’s not more sleep that I need but rest—real rest.

The kind that happens in an afternoon nap—guiltless.

The music I make will never be heard.

That was never the point.

Cannot continue because the women I have been writing about have changed so much that it is hard to know where to restart or begin again.

Patsy is dead. Maria has possibly become more destructive in some sense as she seems to have nothing to lose.

I do not want her to die—the suicide thing could change—and I could focus more on aging.

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What’s the significance of the number eight?

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Not sure there is one.

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I'll go with this one then: "Of all the numbers in Numerology, the number 8 is the achiever and measures life by the goals it reaches." Clearly, I have much more to strive for with my writing...

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"New shoes?" said the driver. Hell, I haven't had the money for new shoes. I haven't had the money for much lately. New shoes, new tires, new clothes: does anybody really do new? I can't even pay attention, nevermind pay for new anything such as this record I've been trying to finish since the beginning of the plague. Plague fatigue. We all have plague fatigue. They say that misfortune is the inspiration for the blues. It's hard to get inspired when you need new shoes

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From John Steinbeck "Grapes of Wrath"

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From Gregory David Roberts Shantaram.

"I found myself envying that contentment, and the smiles of greeting he drew from a group of people who walked past him to the road."

Contentment

Smiles of people

A yearning for what is

As I reach into my past

The realization

Exactly what is

is what is meant to be

today

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Lillian Boxfish Takes A Walk by Kathleen Rooney

"Sometimes clients would send me samples of the product for which I was composing copy" ​

Products, an interesting topic

brilliant, needed and overused.

Food, shelter and clothing

is all we really need,

yet I advertise these useless gadgets

for my readers to take heed.

I sell my soul for the useless,

to the desperate, looking to fill a hole

when we know, its not the stuff

we need to make us whole.

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From Dorothy Allison's "Cavedweller":

"Most of those who came were already drunk or stoned when they arrived, their faces slack and eyes sheathed protectively in black shades."

These were the nouveau crashers

No respect for the dead

Hiding behind their hipster sights

Probably won't even sit through the sermon

What's the point anyway? If you 're already there I mean

Bored posers, their amateur thrills

If I'm gonna pretend I knew you for a swig

I'll at least show you my tears

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