Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Monday, January 23, 2012

1968 an aha moment


dear Journal Companion,


I'm not going to tell my burn story today,  Ima telling this one instead.



I had foolishly told my burn story to my foster sister.  We were pretty good friends by then.
I thought it would be okay to trust her with it. Her reaction surprised me.

She goes over to the kitchen cabinet and pulls out a box of matches.  The long kind, with the red striped box.

She lights it and hold it out to me menacingly.   "Afraid of fire?"   I'm going to burn you."  she says.

I ran.   She runs.   A lap around the first floor.  Still after me
I stumble upstairs, she's right behind me.   With the match.  Giggling with glee and anticipation.

"Not funny, not funny, Quit it! Quit it! "  I beg.

I start up to the third floor, getting desperate then suddenly I stop.  I whirl around.


And blow that match out!


Her face crumbles and falls.
Posted by at
Labels:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)