Free Write Friday with Kellie Elmore

Free Write Friday with Kellie Elmore

Join in the fun at Kellie Elmore‘s Free Write Friday!  It’s fun and great brain exercise for all you writers out there looking for inspiration.  This week the inspiration for the Free Write is a beautiful summer picture with this quote from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Then followed that beautiful season…Summer. Filled was the air with […]

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Found Myself Today Singing

Well it’s been awhile since I’ve written just a post on what’s up with me lately.  Maybe because what’s up is confusing and yet somehow dull to me.  A couple of great things are happening–I’m seeing a new psychologist who leaves around the bend across the lake and I think she’s…brilliant.  Fucking brilliant.  The first […]

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I’m About to Get Personal Whoa Shit

I’m About to Get Personal Whoa Shit

Getting Intimate with You Guys.  Thanks for listening/reading: Tonight I’m wondering about what love really is.  Did I have it?  Are there different kinds of love?  I’ve always avoided writing about love, because I have this outer shell that believes it’s ridiculous.  Hmmm.  I had someone.  A keeper.  I grew into loving him.  Is that […]

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Gratitude

Well up until today I was having a hard time seeing what I was thankful for.  And then, in a rare and favorite moment, I felt compassion.  Compassion for, well, myself I guess.  My sister told me I’m her hero.  That’s hard to swallow but I believe her I have to because she’s never lied […]

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Carry Me Like Water

(in response to the question “Do You Believe In God?” over at Storylane) I was brought up strictly Catholic. In college I dabbled in Buddhism and Hinduism, studied the Qaran (Koran?) and Judaism. But I never understood what faith was, or God, or Love, until after I hit rock bottom. When I was 28 my […]

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amysprague1184 sent you a note: Me: I want my story to be written for one reason: I want to know who I was and that Wha t I’d experienced, all the good and the bad, was real. That I was real. To this day that is the only reason I write: to know I am of some kind of substance.

Me: I want my story to be written for one reason: I want to know who I was and that Wha t I’d experienced, all the good and the bad, was real. That I was real. To this day that is the only reason I write: to know I am of some kind of substance. […]

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howl

…to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might […]

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breaking hallways

They used to call it some kind of crazy–breaking those hallways like that, mercilessly testing your wits for some kind of recommendation on how to live a better time.  It grew into a sad art–breaking everything down to see what it’s made of; breaking the walls because you couldn’t fit through the arches–you with your […]

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The Nothing Caper

It came in the night. We were all sleeping in the house and I woke to it lifting my sheets; it made my nightgown bleed. My doll saw it all so I ripped out her eyes the next morning before breakfast. Then it started coming in my dreams, and I thought there was a monster […]

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