Wednesday, November 9, 2011

100 words: Cliche


I walk through the weeping cherry tree—its leaves raining down on me, dusting my jacket with brightness. Two years ago, we first walked hand in hand between the tall grey oak trunks, intentionally stepping on the crunchy leaves, orange against the dry grass. I emerge into the open blue sky. It's clear and cold, as if preparing a clean slate for the winter. I finally understand the old cliché.  

This was an assignment for a class in grad school--100 words based on the prompt cliche.

Clash in the College trailer

This summer when I was working for an "independent film company," I wrote the narration for the Clash in the College trailer. I didn't realize he actually made the trailer until just now.  He added some awkward, grammatically incorrect sentences to what I wrote.

I ordered my copy today!

Saturday, November 5, 2011

100 words: Music

We've been doing these 100 word homework assignments for my nonfiction class.  The prompt for this one was music.  I had to revise it because I really screwed up the tenses, possibly because I first wrote it on the bus going down to Occupy Pittsburgh.

We sprint up. The sound of guitars warming up echos in the stairwell. Three girls who are running down stop us, smear paint on our faces—neon pink warpaint that glows under the blacklights inside. 

The singer howls into the mike, voice shaking with pain. In his white clothes, he becomes a chameleon changing under the lights. With yellow and green, scales grow up his neck.  My body is flung from side to side in the pit. Finally, thrust to the foot of the stage. The synthesizer moan and the lights change to blue and red. The singer turns to Satan.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Pittsburgh River Visit

Went to the southside today to take photos of the river.  When I crossed over the bridge, the Monongahela looked seafoam green, unlike the Allegheny, which always looks silver or slate blue.  I went to Riverfront Park, which was my first time getting down and dirty with the river.  I stuck my finger in it because I wanted to touch it, even though there were signs that said the river is used for sewer overflow.  I considered tasting it, but the signs convinced me it was a bad idea.  Living in Pittsburgh has given me this unhealthy fascination with rivers.

When I was finishing up my shoot, a coal barge approached.  Nothing is more Pittsburgh than a coal barge on the Monongahela.  I snapped more photos.  After the barge passed, the river's character changed.  Waves formed in the wake of the barge, suddenly rolling against the rocks, tearing away the leaves caught between stones.

My Publications

Fiction "The Blue of the Sky, the White of the Waves," Everyday Fiction : February 2018 ( read online ) "Alone in this Fai...