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!

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

glad she didnt wear a coat

january 1997

wasnt too cold that overcast january day, when she picked me up in her little blue honda crx.  she wore jeans and a casual dark blue button down shirt.. unbuttoned just enough.  long dark brown waves swept up into a high ponytail, rogue wisps framing her lovely smiling face.  her eyes captivating, with just a trace of blush and mascara.. gazing up at me with confidence. 

where's your coat?

don't need one.  i rarely wear a coat.

on the way to the theater we talked about nothing in particular.  i just couldnt take my eyes off of her.  and i couldnt stop smiling.  and my heart kept wanting to leap out of my chest.  she drove fast like me.  didnt seem a bit unnerved for a first date.. her first ever.

we dont seem to have a hard time making conversation.. this is good.
we are both nervous.. my leg is shaking.. ha so is hers!
the movie starts.. but i cant pay attention.. i try
but my damn heart just wont stop pounding
at least i remember what movie!
she said, no chic flick..  so.. Ransom.
     
                                      *******************************
is it cold in here?

feels ok to me.. (i grin)

im chilly.

hmm.. what would you like me to do about that?

well.. you could put your arm around me.

over time, she tells this story to friends.. and teasingly complains how i made her make the first move.. on her first date.. EVER.

dinner at the local Fridays.. the waitress giving us this knowing smile. 
her hand found mine.
she had cajun chicken.. i dont remember what i had.. i didnt really care.
i was all about her. 





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