Wednesday, September 28, 2011

the trick

Notice there's a mushroom cloud photo with this post.  Not a mountain, to make a "mountain out of a mole hill" comparison. A mountain just sits there, bein' big.  But a mushroom cloud -- that's a big thing that does long-lasting, teeth-rattling destruction and irreparable harm.

The trick is, go for the mountain.  Don't always go for the big red button.  I know it's shiny, so tempting. Begging to be pressed.  You'll end up with a mushroom cloud and have to deal with a mess.  You can't unpress the button, or pack the annilation back into the bomb.  You can't unsay unkind words.

All this means:  try not to overreact to everything.  I'm talking to myself.  That's right, you doing the typing.  Sure, maybe the molehill is covered with ants and a few piles of dog doo, but you'll live.

Monday, September 26, 2011

object (v)

It's not that I don't like autumn.  Or Fall.  I usually call it Fall.  It's the transition that gets me.  The in between.  I know I've written about this before, and wait until we change back to standard time.  Oh, how I will go on about light leaking from the sky.  The metaphors will get waist-deep around here. 

Maybe it's change that I didn't choose that I object to.  Even after a lifetime of it, I can't quite abide it.  But I will enjoy the satisfying crunch of a maple leaf under my shoe, or the wet granola smell of the sidewalk after a sudden rain.  I will enjoy soup steam in my face from a new yellow bowl.  More lap time from the cats.  Those small offerings I can accept.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Really

Almost 9 months to reject my short story Berkeley Fiction Review?  Really?  And I don't go around saying "really?" all the time, so you know I'm annoyed.  I thought 6 months was the outer limits of "gimme a break" but a few days shy of 9?

I suppose BFR only publishes stuff from students anyway.  I dunno.  Bah.

T'anks fer nuthin'.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Hawaiian surprise

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, or too much caffeine, but I heard lovely Hawaiian music as I exited Starbucks.  Lilting falsetto lullaby and strings and soft drum beat.  A lady hula danced in her ordinary work clothes, her ID badge clipped to her belt.  I don't know hula or what the song was about, but her motions seemed to say "look around," "relax," "breathe" and "how about a hug?"  Beautiful.

The acoustics between the two buildings in the plaza made for a natural surround-sound.  F Market trolleys and the cackling teenagers nearby couldn't take away from the soothing, melting, want-to-sleep feeling I had (ok, I did do a few half- and full-turns to the cacklers which of course did nothing -- "The fellas are trying to entertain us.  Piss off!")  I only thought that, don't worry.  Damn my hypervigilance.