A tree, a rock, a cloud

I'm thinking in fragments lately. Because I'm teaching the kids not to use them and I'm perverse? Because I'm scatterbrained? I don't know. I'm trying to write lately about my daddy, and the only way I can is in fragments. I fancy them up and call them "vignettes," but I know what they really are.

He's kind of like Ozymandias in the Shelley poem--"two vast and trunkless legs of stone" are all that's left. Anyway, I have four or five little Daddy fragments, not enough to say I'm working on a book yet, and all my eye notices is a bit of a landscape here and there. So there they are, little pieces of my town.

I'm thinking Carson McCullers was right; to love, you have to start with little things--a tree, a rock, a cloud, and go from there. Or a meter, a paintball building, a fence. Daddy would have no idea what I'm talking about.

Recalcitrant Geisha--Arty Girlz' Challenge

This is mine for Arty Girlz' Blue and Yellow Challenge
http://artygirlzchallengeblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/arty-girlz-challenge-75-blueyellow.html

Walt Whitman at the disco

The Dark--for Mixed Media Monday

A nuit, tous les chats sont gris

Flashlight

More men who look good on paper

I'm in love again. Last month it was the Athens chef; last night Alberta, Mr. Alberta, and I were serenaded by these captivating men in tangerine pantsuits, and it was a good thing their guitar straps said, "Police line, do not cross" or I wouldn't even be here this morning.

I tried to get Mr. Alberta to request "Ring of Fire" but he was deep into a fit of shyness brought on by his second margarita. Anyway, out of respect for our own impetuousity, Alberta and I better not go back to Frontera for a while.