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, February 6, 2012

So many adventures

Overnight I worked it out while I slept I suppose.  Because I woke up this morning with a new perspective.

The more stories I tell, the more I remember.  I had forgotten...

Who does that?  Who moves beehives in a boat?  Were you nuts?  Just traipse off into the levees... with scoundrels.  Criminals that get arrested and escorted out of town with the police lights on you.  Driving home with them lit up with moonshine and insisting that they swap out drivers for a more sober one.

I did that?

And now sitting so still and in such a small place.
I faltered in my self esteem.


Last night reckless abandon smacked me in the face.

What have you done lately,  look at what you've become.

I faltered and looked for excuses.

Then JC sang a few light lines in chat.  It was a bandaid that stopped the flow and allowed me to wait and sleep.

And when I awoke, I had remembered my son's childhood.  So many stories.

And I realized I had been very busy in a great adventure.

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