Saturday, June 18, 2016
Writers' Group at B's - My story The Promise
The lawn of her condo is sprayed with noxious fumes. She said dandelion greens are delicious in salads.
She also told us - and I'd wondered about this - that we're losing our FIREFLIES!
What are we doing to our beautiful earth!
Got up early this morning and walked around the block. Before I started my short story I took a lil nap. Went on Netflix and found the soft-spoken artist Bob Ross, who could lull Jack the Giant Eater to sleep. Let's give it up for the late Bob Ross.
I'd set my timer for 20 minutes and was quite alarmed when it went off.
I must tell you I just got off my bike. With the fan trained on me I pedaled for 25 minutes while reading two books.
Sugar is a perfect 97.
Allan told us about various family members who lost their lives in World War II. His 90-yo uncle still doesn't want to talk about the Pandora's Box it would open.
Read this new story that considers PTSD a physical diz. From June 10.
Thanks, Rem, for burning me a copy of Golden Earring! I can't listen to it downstairs on the stereo my sister Donna gave me.
Mr. Flecks makes anudder appearance in his novel, as we knew he would. Linda Barrett was laffing hysterically and Allan also thought it quite funny, as did Donna K.
I certainly enjoyed it and marked up his copy with ****** asterisks to show I cared.
Very visual! She and B both described what it was like getting radiation therapy. For Donna, tho, the cancer wasn't the worst part of her diz.
It was her depression, which tops all diseases! I too will vouch for that.
Once, at New Directions, we had a man with cerebral palsy arrive in a wheelchair. His CP paled in comparison to his depression.
Donna drove over herself. Good for you!
See, many of us entered the competition, due June 30, about The First Time. Mine was about using mescaline at Goddard College for the first and last time.
Linda's written and rewrin this story many a time but must stick to the main point... The First Time.
You can do it, Linda!!!
I arrived slathered up in suntan lotion in case a big black vulture wants to come down and eat me. Let's find a photo of me somewhere.
You gotta cover your bod with lotion if you're taking antirejection meds, which I do.
My story was called.... hmmmm.... Oh yes, The Promise.
Got the idea when I lived in San Fran and worked for a place called Cal/Ink. A lovely woman named Lenore had had a mastectomy and that's how I came up with the idea, which I just executed this morning.
Four pages. Martha, who wasn't there, found it "exciting and profound."
At B's house we talked about a new David Letterman interview. He now wears a beard. Like in the Roald Dahl short story THE TWITS.
Have a great evening, folks!