Flash Fiction Exercise

My feet were so cold. That’s what woke me up. My head pounded. I could comprehend nothing else than sipping on a cup of Sumatra dark with a squeeze of honey. It was a crippling addiction, but I loved her so.

I felt strange that morning. Besides the oncoming migraine, which was most likely the result of a night of heavy drinking, I had this overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Attempting to loosen my aching back, I swung my feet out of bed and started towards the kitchen. My cerebral cortex bickered, right against left. Visions of last night fought their way into my thoughts but the legs ignored any neural impulses other than navigating their usual morning routine.

Suddenly aware of my surroundings, I was not in the kitchen at all, but a living room. “Oh God, did I go home with someone?”

Still groggy and heavy-lidded, I turned the corner again. Only, I found myself standing on the other side of the room. Stepping back over the threshold, it was my laundry room. Relieved but apparently disoriented, I whispered angrily. “Damn girl. Get a hold of yourself!”

 I closed my eyes so tight that I started to see dizzying kaleidoscope bursts of purple and green. Opening them again, I was staring at a clean coffee pot sitting on the counter top by the stove. “But, um… I didn’t - maybe I should start with a glass water”.

Standing by the tap, I sipped slowly, drank enthusiastically, and then gulped desperately. At this point, I was convinced that I could drink the entire volume of Lake Michigan and still feel thirsty. It was almost as if I couldn’t even feel the water on my throat. With my head tilted back to catch the last drop of a fourth glass, I noticed a book of matches on the kitchen table. I had quit smoking over 2 years ago and kept the habit of hoarding lighters, but never matches. The advertisement on the front was illegible, but the back held a message written in thick sharpie scrawl. “WATER” I didn’t feel thirsty anymore.

The floorboards shuddered. Across the room, my glass fell from the counter. Sharp Shards splintered across the floor, but the sound of breaking glass came from another room.

Grabbing a bread knife on the way, I rushed upstairs. Someone was in my house. Suddenly terrified, but also annoyed, I turned the lock on the bedroom door. “Of course. The headlines will read ‘Unsuspecting woman killed because she was too hung-over to fend off attacker’ What. The. Hell.”.

Dialing over and over, my cell phone refused to connect. The sound of footsteps grew louder and closer. I jumped back. Gripping the handle of the breadknife, crumbs sprinkled onto the rug. If someone were to see me at that moment, I looked like the only knowledge I had of fighting was from a ‘so bad it’s not even funny’ kung-fu movie. Rocking my hips back and forth and crouched down like my name was hidden dragon, I tried to quell the heartbeat that filled my ears. “Float like a butterfly baby”, I joked.

     I waited for the inevitable, but nothing happened. I mean nothing. I was so wrapped up in adrenaline and nausea. It took five minutes before I realized the house was silent again. Slowly, I walked back towards the door. Closer. A little closer. I pressed my ear against the door. BANG! The sound of a fist on metal. Its noise reverberated like a ripple on the water.

Stumbling backwards, I dropped the knife. My foot tripped over a shoe rack and I fell. A storm of leather, laces, and soles tumbled over the floor. It made no sense. I didn’t know what could make that sound. I practically lived in a log cabin. One of the boots rolled between outstretched legs. The pattern of its grip caught my eye. Small imprinted letters read, “SAFE”. It was stamped right into the rubber. I heard the lock click and as I feared, the door began to open.

Sitting in breadcrumbs and surrounded by piles of mismatched shoes, I began throwing whatever my terror-frozen mind could make my fingers hold onto. After tossing a couple of particularly pointy stilettos and my useless cell phone, I realized no one was coming for me. I was alone. The heat of embarrassment flushed across my cheeks.

Ignoring the mess I had just created, I stepped back into the kitchen only to be confronted by the last thing I wished to see at that moment. The magnets on the fridge were recently rearranged. Most of them had been pushed to the side, except for several brightly colored plastic letters. I thoroughly regretted doubting myself and became filled with dread.

“REALIZE”

It was then I heard muffled voices. I was sure that they were contained inside the house, yet completely bewildered as to exactly where from. The tears came unannounced.

I skulked about from room to room and back through again, listening for any clues. It was only when I had completely lent my mind to exasperation that I noticed the stereo speakers. I sat down next to them and it was then I was able to discern the words behind those muffled voices.

---

“Did you or did you not check her paperwork?”

A man’s voice demanded. He slammed his hand down on something metallic. The sound of it reverberated like a ripple on the water. 

A moment of silence passed.

Next, came a woman’s voice. She was calm and possessed a note of authority in her tone.

“All persons in her class are able to decide. It is a mandatory step in applying for an identification card. Donate the organs or donate the body.”

The statement was met with a baritone growl.

“You must understand Dr. Bale. In eight cases out of ten, people of her…um, financial situation… will choose to have their health expenses paid in full rather than passing the debt onto a family member in which nine out of ten cases indicate they are of the same income bracket.”

The woman paused, then added.

“The brain stem must be no older than 12 hours in order for the software to take. She was in the water for so long. The cold was the only reason the brain’s temperature was held in the safe zone. You must realize. If perfected, this technology could help rehabilitate patients from a catatonic or even comatose state. You must realize the good we can do.”

This time, her plea was met with a sigh.

“Every stimuli the body experiences causes a chain of free association in the brain. It could be years before I discover a way to control the perceived environment. She is spiraling into chaotic mania. Did you or did you not check her paperwork?” 

the value of spinning clocks, warms coats and a bar of soap

When I say tomato, you begin listing favored cereals (in reverse order)

and this

is the reason

I want to know your sleeping patterns

Sometimes my soul tends to be a bit a too sticky for yours

But I like the way you push me back and stub your toes

Concussions sourced from a spring welled deep beneath

All that is felt or known or seen

Where bones ache with a terrible weight

Bathing in soot for the sake of an unmatched faith

Turpentine breath with saccharine taste

These are the reasons 

- I count in time

slow and steady 

inhalations; the slow activation

An Ode to Soil Science

Finals week...goodie. Subsequent products of listening to old warbly dylemma recordings, touch of insomnia and pushing myself to learn more on guitar than just enough to get by. flavor of the week...bar chords! woot. this is old stuff, new stuff, more stuff.

1. regular = G, Gsus, Em, A // italicized = G, D, C, A // Bold = G, A (D), Bm
I drew you a figure of quiet temptation
nurturing the light, muting the warnings
you offered a heart dark with burden
I knew this, I saved this, I waited, I waited (end on Am7)

and this offered salvation of which I created
your character a detail openly debated
disarmed by a fleeting light
it stood a station of nostalgic temptation

you need another fix tonight; crushed and diluted
just another one of your dirty secrets
you place them upon me like heavy stones
under which I was meant to sink (Am7)

I read that dreams were reflections of reality
and so I stopped to look at the fight
the struggle between the tired inseam
who tells me what's wrong & what's right?

awakened by the philosophy, I stated my miseries
- and stuffed them in a jar
sealed tight with a notion of it's passing
I walked off, wildly laughing 
the color of night was in my mind


illuminated by the distance, shadowed by a lonely doubt
homeless in a sense that I've never known
the ringing in my ears, an echo of all my fears
jackals watching, counting the years
my fabled crutch, I can't live without. (ends on G but then C)


outro (G,C/Csus, Em, Dsus2, G)

2. partial credit to Dylan for Pleo inspired lyrics
(5Em, 2Em, Am slide 7Em) --> G,F,Em --> C, Am, Em --> 5Em, 2, 4, 2 --> finish Am, C, Am

Lay me down at the heart of it all
I want to feel the wind in my bones
cracked and marrow leaking
wild daisies beneath me
I won't dream

Clouds hang on strings
strung along by the shifting winds
each day a worn, familiar wake
all arrivals are pre-determined
supplicated by a waking state
this cannot be

I saw your ghost in a hole in the wall
the shadows play tricks but don't we all
strangers bound by memory
such a beautiful place
you'd think I'd want to stay
---
hang high for your hollow ways
the white queen bluffs fakes
the way only your brother holds holy
prayers to gods you never believed in
and deities wavering on lines of existenz
but man builds towers, crumbling towers
so hesitate to exalt his celebrity
---
lay me down in the heart of it all
turbines in states are beginning to wake
when we were born, we too shook hands with robots
kissed their tiny jointed fingers
that responded when I held it
when I say sit, you sit (repeat)

3. general = C, A with G,D, (C,A)
I draw you wild things of sultan rings and crazy queens
you lay in brilliant suns of lives begun and love
she weaves tapestries of crumpled kneed stability
we sit in brutal trinity

pacing in bathrobes, smoking cigarettes
menthols were tolerable then
January howled through that shelter tree
fumbling to say what was really on your mind

thought we'd live in a place by the lake
I write you letters with where I'm at
it was a long flight, a fortnight and a train
your letters from the other side stay tucked away

I drank the blood so you'd think I was strong
bet you'd wanna know it cried out before the cut
the drink was warm, it was salted
I didn't feel a thing

Now it's broken bricks and the giving tree
we're tangled through with rites
she lay her sheath down gracefully
he bulks his armor for the fight

they're two worlds, a parallel (B up one fret, B, D, A)
the lines they almost touch, but... (same plus ending)

4. spanish strum = Am, Em --> F, Am (repeat) then Am, Em with different quickened rhythm
I stubbed my cigarette against the back wall
you fumbled through the contents of your pockets
I guess this will remain
in the typewriter and in the grave

you ask for anger, so I'll give you peace
I guess you don't ask for much

I wanted to be the marrow in your bones
or at least a chapter in the book
greedily I devoured all of your secrets
each story a feather on my wing

you ask for anger, so I'll give you peace
I guess you don't ask for much

I'm crossing borders binding memory and time
you were here yesterday but it's just another stitch in the line
because your ties are determined by allied divisions
constant calls for ceremonious presentations

I guess this will remain
in the typewriter and in the grave

5. G, D (steady rhythm) C, Am, Em (last three lines)
Everytime you let me down
your heart kicks in the beat that leaves me breathless
drum march leads me to a place
of unknown name and space
but you, you know my state
you see right through me
I am finding myself in delicate display

so it's tight twisted, iron grip
split reality, loose lipped
speaking freely, babbling tongues
a child's memory lost and won
rotten gut became my virtue (C)

nursing the mental rage
laying stake to my claims
a hangover I just can't quit
took just one, the bullet bit
sip, sip, gulp, gulp
sweet venom in my veins (C)

brings you home again (Em, Am)
mutes the news prompts
numbs the madness for a little while
sourcing rationality through a diatribe (G,D)
there's rampant addiction as a new religion
and we still can't talk about these days (C)

6. Am/Am7, Em/ Em(lift)
Scars mark skin like tiny external signs of life
and I think your's are pretty great
and really sometimes I'm not sure why
because it just happened (Am)
because I feel like I don't have to try (C, Em)

is greatness marked by a kiss?
is affection enclosed by rules and regulations?
your hand through my hair, a greater testament (Am, Dsus1)
a tiny red stone, a more audible shout (Am, Dsus1)

small infinite worlds, paralled by sadness it brings (C, E, E7)
a reality shadowed by yet liberated from past (C, E, E7)
speak your greviences and I will receive them (Am, Am7, C, D, B)
because the sun sparks every morning (Am, Am7, C, emma chord, E, E7

7. (old - needs melody)
By now I've traced 1,000 steps
avoiding grimy forgotton prints in the muck
and now I'm here, but where am I?

You think it's one way, but you're wrong
I've been finding myself by seeing who I am not
faces and names pass through my life
like a muted TV screen
and I love them all. 

but remember your routes
because Karma's a bitch
and no one wants to be an unfounded willow

floating in the space between 
time and all you know
even the sweetest tea turns sour
under moons so - 
heavy, low and bursting
with unreachable love

her beauty's brimming with boiling gas
overwhelmed by caustic fire and ash
but she brings you light, you can't forget that
well, doesn't she?

8. (way old)

I think it was a Monday...
I gave entrance to my haven
that old tent in the bedroom
empty beer cans and paper clippings

You lay me down on sheets and blankets
what a perfect place we made
the stereo played the mandolin
sunshine burst through nylon stretch

Bristled brushes all around
colored sheets and goose down
I laid your head on my chest 
and let my heart do the rest.


9.  (old, old. maybe reword/ maybe delete... needs melody)


I once read this book in a funny language
It promised to show me universal truth
I read the lines and in between them too
but still couldn't decide what to believe

Now I may quote its pages
I may even take his word
but these lenses keep changing on me
I barely recognize the earth

then I saw this trippy movie
all their characters cartoon
it told me "look inside your dreamworld"
but another dream I've yet to have

I keep forgetting why I'm here today
taking lovers, wasting time
they keep giving me these silly glasses
so now my world's a shade of pink

I wear those lenses like a rosary
make love in darkness and in light
and when they fall onto the pavement
the tiny mirrors nick my soles
but with every idol comes idle hands
clasped in frozen prayer to their shape
shrieking grievances to blissful starry skies
be still in your being, lay low in the lawn
we will come to your call
tending place where you fall 


10. (oldd.. maybe reword. needs melody) 
Words fly like paper doves
crispy creatures they be 
and animals are we
silent, shaded silhouettes

Perceptions, apprehensions, wounded pride
blinding freckled flesh
can say more as we speak less
like constellation love letters

But flesh sweats
exposing its stench
when constellations turn to - 
nights too bright to forget.

Pressed against, swallowed whole
Jonas would be proud
I took it like a man
I didn't say a word

In the belly of the whale
Molars and salted water
Stinging my eyes - red, red, red
I didn't have a name.

Now paper slices fingertips
Once meant to fit with others (of its own kind)
I hope you didn't mind
I stood up for myself this time.

"Earnesty and clarity, those wonderful mentalities of decent positivity are all that we can scribe"

It's been 9 months since I last wrote in my blog...I wish I hadn't done that. It's funny and almost alien to look back and see that my last entry was in Zanzibar where I had so little faith in people. I was so worn down at that point that every negative interaction was a chip away of a thinning beam. There is so much that has happened that I will never be able to fully remember. The ridiculous nature of it all caused memories to fold in on themselves and feel like distant dreams - but they said that this would happen. It took the first 2 months in India for my dreams to realize I was in another world and only subtle reminders of home to reverse the mental shift. 

I thought coming back to the states would be like ripping off a band-aid, but instead it was just the bandage itself. The anxiety, the stress, the constant state of being overwhelmed, the unsteady nature of my thoughts and movements, the sense of disassociation - wrapped me tightly into solitary thought. What's the point of living in that state of paralysis? I've come so far from that place in so many ways. 

I want to start writing again and make a space to write fragments of thoughts again. 

I. 

In the end, I paid one hundred dollars to get myself arrested. The sum wasn't directly related to the consequence but I should have known. She said everything would be fine. When it started, I kept my mouth shut. I said my prayers before bed, kept the pills in their bottles on the counter and she praised me. 

Sundays lectured on the civil disobedience of our people. We were more about the group itself and less about the rituals that orchestrated them.. Jesus' body and blood was a symbol nourished our souls and Luther spoke 'truth'. Hey, we weren't popular like the Catholics but I was a part of something bigger than myself.

But our ministers had affairs and stole money and lied to the father. And I was taken away from my people and became mutated, episcopal. Then, I was schooled with a cross, a uniform and a mother's grace to make a good life. 

I fell from the universe to become the root of a tree, built to support but not meant to break free and Yaweh became a function of a cultural relativity. The great architect for the morally civilized... 

II.

Take two steps.
back to the space
where you placed your palm
in the center of my chest
and slowed my wild spinning.

So you can sew my sinew
to mend the folds of a cerebral
hell that never meant to harm 
but never promised to liberate
I'm telling you to do this.

Yet, there's a hole in God's ether
where all the ringing goes
the shadows of the swallows
and the songs of a willow

swallowed by a heart I used to know.

Zanzibar: the aftermath

Oh Zanzibar... honestly, you were beautiful. You were warm and surrounded by cerulean blue ocean. I never knew that color crayon existed in real life. But, you were ugly and filled with people who just wanted to sell me shitty "massai" paintings of chubby antelope things swimming in greenish concentric circles. Honestly, if you ask me again if I want to buy a spice boat I'm going to lose it. Staying there as a mwanafunzi (student) was a completely different perspective. Kind of made me never want to "vacation" ever again. I'm torn because life happens and work happens and we can't all be doctors and lawyers and get that perfect job and this is far from true in so many places outside the US. I get that. Tourism is still an industry, you gotta live somehow - but honestly, Zanzibar made me lose faith in humanity a little bit. I fucking love people. I rarely trust them but I love meeting random people and having random conversations and feeling like that was a fun little moment in life. But there it was like every person I talked to tried to guilt-trip me into buying them something! Okay, like the first day I talk to a dhow fisherman about his sick daughter. Fuck it! Regardless, I buy him the malaria medication..like the actual medication from the pharmacy. Okay, great. Maybe he sold it for cash, maybe he has a daughter. Then ...everywhere I go people are asking me to buy them dinner, support their shop, buy them a beer. I slowly begin to realize that all the guys working downtown have a similar shpiel. Their needs are different. Some of them are drugged out, some actually have families, some just need to get a meal in before they go out fishing again. But seriously man, it was a serious bastardization of the virtues of human interaction in order to support their economy. Again, I get it. I get it. I get it. I never thought the world was sunshine and roses but three weeks of creeping disdain can suck you in. Regardless of the harassment and repeated "Sir, I don't need a taxi. I'm walking probably another 50 feet and no I won't want a taxi later...haven't you seen me walk this way every day?" - expect the worst from people and you get the worst. Therefore, on Christmas my friend Stormie and I wrote a fun little christmas note to santa. (You can never be too old to just be a little goofy) I said professor kringle... I just want a little faith humanity and maybe a nice hat. So there's that. I'm recovering from paradise. Go figure.

So Christmas eve we took a ferry from Zanzibar to Mainland Tanzania into the city of Dar es Salaam. Dar was interesting. Kinda crowded and shady. Now we're in Moshi in the north almost on the border of Kenya (relatively). We visited a sisal farm and today is coffee? Except I kinda got myself a parasite and am out of commission for a little bit. Tomorrow we head to Ngorongoro National Park where we're camping in a crater of sorts and then going on safari. So yea...that's life in a nutshell.

I want to destroy something beautiful.

So i wrote out this rant on dam projects and then my computer froze. Screw it for now because I'm hungry so lo siento. Here's a thing I wrote about the Ukai Dam. Rant to give it context will come later lest I forget.


Spoiled children playing God
Blacking out the mountainside
Glory be! A sight to behold
A concrete mass 2/3 it's size
we grasp at hope and social change
But, who's to say?

Blindly they spin dials and knobs
The gears: they crank and click and churn
Build until we crack the sky!
Nothing better, let them have water!
Drowning the people in saving grace
Well, who's to say?

Link the rivers! Change their course!
We call the shots around these parts
Sweep the banks for signs of life!
Discretely dispose of dire displaced
Don't worry! It's all for you dear!
but really... who's to say?

The women gape with matted silt
In their hair and clothes and flesh
Homes felled like skeleton teeth
bony ribs exposed as He wills it so
But no cries were heard through gurgling lungs
So who's to say what's right and wrong?

I'm a woman! I'm a mother! I'm a victim of sin!
I speak a language dead outside these walls.
I am rooted. I am whole. I am washed away.

Hey, remember that time I fell asleep on a plane and ended up in East Africa?

So Friday was possibly the longest day ever. We had an "end of India, going away" party in which there was wine and charades. So much fun but also I always wake up so early when I drink so the day started at approximately 5:45 am. Then, (to make a long story short) a good friend of mine (Meaghan) on the trip had to leave us (again) in order to go back to the states. A bunch of other things and then we didn't even leave Dahanu for the airport until 8:30 at night. Our flight wasn't til 5am. I say this more to give you an idea of the crazy day...so is life about the timing.

The flights were kind of awful though. I was sick and didn't really get much sleep in and was motion sick too which sucked and one of the strings on the instrument I bought in India broke. Oh yea, so I bought a Dilrubaa in Ahmedabad. Appearance wise, it may be comprable to a sitar but you play it with a bow...and it doesn't sound anything like a sitar. I don't have a case for it so I've just been carrying it around in the bag for my yoga mat which is completely insufficient. It really is a beautiful instrument and I guess not many people are learning to play it anymore. Therefore I have made the executive decision to send it home. I'm sure it will get destroyed if I try to carry it for the rest of the year and what's the point of destroying a beautiful instrument? We'll see if it makes it in the mail in one piece though.


Yea so flight kinda sucked, I was buggin' out. But Zanzibar is fucking GORGEOUS. We got in around 4:30 pm.. Although, time is a completely foreign concept to me now. I guess we're about 2-5 hours behind India time (which could be completely false) and we are now under swahili time.

A: I never remembered the time difference between India and the US.
B:  Swahili time starts at 6am so 6am is 0:00 and it goes from there. Like 7am would be 1:00 and so on and so forth.
C: The collective confusion from A and B is the sole source for my complete lack of interest in changing the time on my watch. Which, by the way, I have no idea how to do and it's been 7 minutes ahead for the past 2 months which is just a little too ahead and makes telling the time an annoying chore.
D: My watch tan line is out and about.

Of course, the first thing we did upon arrival was head straight to the bar for a sunset drink. We all went to this place called Livingstone and sat at wooden tables in the sand while watching wooden boats and giant cargo ships anchor near the shore. A group of  locals were practicing capoiera (an afro-brazilian form of  martial arts) like 10 feet from our table. We were surrounded by a lot of rich european tourists and in the distance you could see smaller islands off the coast and twinkling lights from the other ships.

Later on in the night, my friend Mike and I wandered over to the market to get some dinner. We started talking to a local and he hooked us up! We were walking and talking and he was getting us plates of food from all the "good" vendors. Moral of the story, we sat with this man by a fountain and shared octopus tentacle. The people here are fantastically friendly and seemingly genuine enough (you can't be too trusting though) and everyone says "jambo! welcome sister/ friend!" as you walk by. After I got fool, Mike and I fed a stray cat the rest of my octopus. Such a good night and Mike is my dude! I've got good friends here.

that's all for now bc i'm about to run out of internet time.