Currently I buoy myself along 

with the sensation of feeling

really rather wretched having had to awaken

to the white sight of

snow!

You must understand

a drab, dreary disdain

blankets my every direction.

A creeping, callous cold has

found a way into my anatomy.

Without any form of exaggeration

it has chilled me right to freezing point.

A freezing point I might add

felt mostly in one place -

My tushie.

Yes,

My bum.

My butt.

My bottom.

My backside.

My posterior.

A most unpleasant sensation

to say the very least.

“The Sun, The Sun,

I simply must chase the sun.”

This all knowing thought

screams it’s way into my already

nastily nippy day.

Hurrying to the window

I notice the sun and the clouds.

The pair,

currently knee deep

in a rigorous skirmish,

the sun shoots

a warming ray.

The clouds swarm

shrouding the ray

much like a

bloom of algae

covering my favorite pond

suffocating my family of fish

extinguishing all hope.

Last summer

I ladled and scooped

(until my hearts content),

all of that organism type algae.

Ladled, scooped (weapons of mass destruction),

right up out of the water

displacing

every last minuscule algae cell from it’s very own

reality of living.

Oh dear!

I believe I may have

murdered -

that algae.

What right do I have to

decide the fate of

millions of microscopic,

single-celled phytoplankton?

Well of course,

much research was present post the murderous act of

the poor algae family.

I endured living with

pent up guilt for months on end

so yes of course

I can still recall the name of these

now dead algae named

Phytoplankton

Oh hang on -

my head is screaming again

“don’t look back in regret.”

Quite true.

One must never even dare to

look back and question

for the past ceases to exist

it is the here, the now

we must keep our focus.

Moving right along

to rid myself of the cold no less,

the guilt will remain for a time indefinite.

Gather up courage I must.

Head for the shed.

A simple ladder my target.

Shouldn’t be too hard if I

hot tail my little butt -

(which I might add

is now being bitten

exceedingly hard by the

the very thing I hold in the most

antipathy - the cold)

- fast as I can muster

through the waist deep snow

Argh!

“Baby it’s cold outside”

I half sing

half scream

and another half I wail,

sounding much like what I imagine

a giraffe birthing twins would sound.

No longer can I feel my face

in this glacial torment!

I must not dilly dally,

don’t want my bits to fall off as

a result of frostbite

locating my bits again

may indeed be an impossibility

in this deep white ice

and also

however would I reattach?

The ladder -

there it is!

Drag the ladder outside I do.

Best bet for now -

Wait.

Yes wait,

for the swarm of clouds to

dissipate.

No ladle, no scoop, not this time.

Cannot have any more

MURDER!!!

on my conscience

this lifetime.

“Tra la, la

Tra la lair,

I have a cold bum

It ain’t really fair”

Sing whilst I wait,

notice I do the birds fly far and wide

did my voice do that?

Encourage the birds to scutter away 

from my murderous voice? 

Hmmm -

Eyes glued, stuck, cemented,

to the sky

a simple parting

of the clouds

my only request.

There it is

BAM!

Clouds lift.

Sun shift.

Quick!

Literally shoving the ladder

with my mightiest might

in the direction

of the soon to be encapsulating

golden warmth.

I climb aboard the sunbeam

walk my way up to the sun

turn around and drop my pants

to warm my little bum.

* You can go back and sing that last stanza right there if you like - gives a lovely effect.

Ahhhhh -

warm tushie.

Life

can once again

return to normality

There really is nothing

quite like a warm bottom.

The question of whether or not life existed on other planets had been answered. She knew it did. What she couldn't figure out was why they had come to Earth? She grappled with the idea of asking them. One day she finally had the courage to admit she knew they were not from this planet.

"I know you aren't of this world. Please tell me where you are from and why you are here. I mean you no harm. You should know that. We've been working to fight against Global Warming for years now. Please, tell me."

Her friend, who went by the earthly name of Jeff, glared at her and remained silent for some time. Finally, he began to explain, "Kate, you're right. We do not come from this planet. We come from a galaxy far from here. I will not reveal the name of it or my kind. If you know of us, than others may also be suspicious. I can't give you much information for fear of others finding out."

Kate sat there with a strange sense of disbelief. She knew it to be true but couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. She felt as if she was dreaming. She was lost in a sea of confusion as her mind flooded with questions.

"You all seem so peaceful, not at all like our projections of aliens. You aren't here to destroy the people of Earth or the Earth itself?"

"No," Jeff said sternly, "just the opposite. We are here to harvest your Earth. To heal it. We hope to one day call it our home."

"What about all of the humans who live here? How are we all going to live here?". Jeff was silent again. 

"Jeff, answer me! What do you plan to do? Are you going to kill us all and steal our planet?? What about me? Are you going to kill me?"

"No, Kate. I'm quite fond of you. You've made my time on this planet and my work so enjoyable. You've given me hope that all of mankind won't need to be destroyed."

"So what exactly are you saying? Are you just going to kill off the ones you don't like? How is that fair?"

"It isn't my intention to have to kill anyone. I've been here long enough to see how your world works. We won't have to kill. Your people are already doing the killing for us. You see, so many have become fearful of the differences of others that it has bred animosity. This has led to mass killings of certain religions and races of your people. There won't be any killing left to do."

Kate sat there in silence now. What had become of mankind and their planet? They had stopped loving and caring for the very thing that was allowing their species to survive and thrive, their home. Humans had lost all respect for life in general and allowed their fears to consume them so much that they were killing off their own race. And for what? Petty differences? Extraterrestrial life forms had come to this planet and were working hard to save it so they could call it home. Mankind had given them every reason to by not caring for their home or each other. Could she make a change? Should she? Or should she keep fighting this fight and remain allies with her newfound alien friends?

A cacophony of shadows

and all I feel is fear

What once was my youth

that I held so dear

is hiding

riding

into a blinkered past,

I always knew it couldn’t last

Life’s seemed to skip by

in a murky blur

Where has it gone?

I cannot be sure

The years

the tears

have melted away

and now all that’s left

is the darkness at play.

The earthen plot in the grass

was the stage for the fairy realm,

My imagination tended as a child.

Tying blades to form huts for ants

digging up worms as mascots.

This grounding was quiet meditation

Rescuing a soul that was subjected.

Creating a persona of womanhood

that was powerful and clothed in

the colors of nature’s fragrant flowers.

Fist fights and fire sirens.

A drop and a crash.

Board me like a dog

until you come home.

Board me like a dog

and I’ll be happy to see you.

You’ve gotta put a lid

on a pot of lobsters,

but I won’t try to climb out.

I am rough.

I spit like boiling water.

But for you, I lie down.

An alarm clock

chiming in my belly.

A grandfather clock

counting out loud.

Only the faucet

warms my hands.

his memory

echoes through

my hollow chest,

reminds me of

the emptiness

we used to share together-

killing ourselves with each other-

you were one of my kind

the words

used to fill my head-

you slitting all my precious lines

me begging you to sip the blood

i bled

i can picture you calling me

those words again-

pretentious cynic-

but still i let you in

i didn't mind

a motherfucking

catcher in the rye,

i could never

keep my eyes off you anyway

radiohead

carved into my veins

remember when i tried to memorize the lines just to

keep you sane?

these hands

just wanted to be yours

i would've ripped my skin if it meant you would've let me in-

opened all your doors

picked my heart up off the floor

fucked me in the corridor

filled me to my very core-

i would've let you be my god

even though you tried to convince me

you weren't heaven

denied me three times

but i still tried to get in

tell me

if that isn't proof

what the fuck

did i have to do

to make myself clear?

The bathtub was overflowing and I realized that I didn’t have any towels. I didn’t have anything. I couldn’t move. Not even my toes could muster a wiggle. My head was itchy behind my ear, and I could do nothing. Water fell in a thin line over the smooth porcelain and I stood helpless as it pooled on the floor. It splashed onto my shoes and dampened the bottoms of my pant legs. All I could do was stand still. My feet were locked in position. I knew what I needed to do. If only I could take a step forward and turn the handle.

I looked down again, and the water had been replaced by the kind of blood that is dark and coagulated. Like it had spent a bit of time in the air before pouring over the edge of my tub. It splashed all over my legs as it bounced off the tiny squares of tile. I felt a rumble. In an instant I was sinking into the disintegrating floor. My body was covered in bloody water and tiny pieces of grout. My clothing was soaked and plastered to my skin. The rough edges of the floor gouged me as I went down. Some of the blood became my own.

The last thing I saw, as I was nose level with the ruined floor, was the cat. She stood in the hall and gave me a knowing look as she pawed the carpet. As we made eye contact, we acquired some sort of telepathic connection. I was aware that she knew I was always headed for Hell. The contact held for a second, until all light was gone and everything became pain. That is when I woke up to the temple pounding nausea of another hangover. My mouth was dry, but my clothes were dry too.

“Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”

-Benjamin Franklin

Writing is something I have–like most people–been doing since grade school. Only recently, however, I’ve begun to take it very seriously. I can’t believe how long this has taken me, but the other day I discovered a trick which will help anyone who ever writes.

Unless you are illiterate–which you mustn’t be if you’re reading this–then this post will apply to you. Let me begin with some basic physiology about the brain, and how it operates during writing, and then I will give an analogy to better illustrate the point.

The basic distinction I would like to start with is writing vs. editing. When writing we are using the creative aspect of our brains. This is the right hemisphere for those familiar with neurology.

During editing we utilize the logical part of our brain, which is the left hemisphere. These are two very different processes, and it is almost as if you are an entirely different person when performing these two tasks.

Perhaps you’re saying, “Big deal, how does this apply to me”? Well, the simple fact is that when writing and editing at the same time, we slow ourselves down drastically by switching back-and-forth between the two separate processes.

I have been guilty of this for my entire life. I am a very analytical person, and I enjoy living in the logical portion of my brain to interpret the world around me. It bothers me to no end when I see that little red line appear beneath a word, indicating that I have misspelled a word. I have to go back and edit it.

There are myriad distractions we can find on our computers besides spelling errors. Social media is one of the worst, which is why I have a free extension called “News feed eradicator for Facebook.” It gives an inspirational quote in place of your news feed, but is also fairly simple to turn off if you consciously choose to scroll through Facebook.

Often, I also get distracted by things on my computer; for example the time. This is why I have found a way to turn all of these things off, so that I can write in an uninterrupted stream of consciousness.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

-Ernest Hemingway

I’ll conclude this post with the exact method I have developed for doing this, but let me first introduce the analogy I promised to drive this point home.

Imagine that your writing is like a car, and the gas pedal is the right hemisphere of the brain, while the brake is the left. Conveniently, this is how the pedals are situated in America, so this shouldn’t be too much of a stretch of the imagination.

Now, in order to get the car going–or to get words on the page–you need to get some speed. This occurs by utilizing the gas, or creative process. By stepping on the brake–or editing–you slow yourself down.

Switching between braking and accelerating in the car analogy should be fairly apparent how this slows you down. But this also occurs in your brain when you switch between the two hemispheres.

The only way to get any momentum going with either aspect is to stick with one. As you continue to get more in a stream of consciousness the processing becomes faster and faster, because you aren’t slowing it down.

Perhaps you’re wondering right now, “What if the brain doesn’t operate in a binary system (on or off) like he’s describing? I can have both at the same time; I don’t need to choose one”!

Okay, let’s consider that for a moment… What would happen if you were to apply the gas and the brake simultaneously in a car? Granted, you might be able to move forward if you gave it enough gas, but you would be holding yourself back with the brakes.

This is analogous to how the brain operates as well. By giving your attention to both hemispheres simultaneously you are essentially giving only a percentage of your brain power to each process, thus slowing yourself down.

Hopefully it has become clear now why when you are writing, you want to focus all your consciousness on writing. And when you are editing, you are only editing.

Now let me explain my process I have found for doing this. I began by researching programs that do this for you, and the best one I found was OmmWriter (which costs a minimal fee; they ask for a minimum of $4.11). The problem is, I have a Chromebook laptop, that doesn’t let me download programs like that.

What I did discover was that Google Docs can do everything I was looking for, and is absolutely free. To do this all you need is a Google account, and Google Chrome installed on your computer (this would probably work with Internet Explorer or Safari, but that’s not what I use).

Once you have opened up a new document, you need to do 3 simple things:

Turn the spell check off in Google Docs, by going to “View,” then click “Show spelling suggestions” so that it is no longer checked.

Hide the toolbar on Google Docs by once again going into “View,” and select “Full screen” (to get out of full screen, just press the escape button).

Finally, turn Google Chrome into full screen also, by simply pressing F11.

At this point, you will have a blank document with no distractions, so that you can write to your heart’s content. This has drastically improved my writing, both in quality and speed.

Then after you’re finished writing, you can go back and turn on the spell check and start editing. I normally like to take a break by walking around for a few minutes before I begin this, however, just to allow my brain some time to reset (a good time for a bathroom break!).

You can even give it another round of spell checking by copying and pasting the document into Microsoft Word or any other writing program you have, because that will pick up different grammatical errors.

I personally like to go through 3 rounds of spell check with my posts; first using Google Docs, then Microsoft Word. And lastly, when I’ve pasted the text into Prose, a free extension I have installed called “Grammarly” will go through and find even more errors.

By going through and reading the text at least 3 different times, in 3 different formats, I’ve found I pick up on a lot more errors than if the words always have the same style. Now, I’m not saying I’m perfect–in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you found a grammatical error in this post!–but this is the most effective way I’ve found to write.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot; one last thing: coffee!!! Writing without caffeine is like running on fumes with an empty gas tank.

A portal of uncertain absolute clarity, wistful thoughts, and blinding vision from a furnace of unfiltered light. My blood, flooded. Glass walls overfilled with dark, fuliginous red wine and blissful highs of eloquent, uncensored intoxication.

Mournful warning, striking blows, through somnambulant, repetitive nights.

The sky lit, a green galaxy of affectionate,

dangerous, historical, shades of heaven.

To never know would be a sin, a lie of living, the marvel of... words, four thousand miles of imagination, seized, in a second of elongated moments.

A world darkened by wild swans, tamed. A complex lake of stricken beauty.

In love, I fell.

This was one of those nights

A few years ago

When they were first getting

To know each other

Before he quit listening

And became angry

Before she quit caring

And became cold

Before the kids came along

And changed everything

This was one of those nights

When the stars and moon

Told them where to walk

Leaving out every superstition

They carelessly stepped

On every crack

Laid out in front of them

Kicking the leaves as they went

Clearing a path they thought

Would lead to Eden

All the trees were alive

Where the darkness had opened

These moments were

As simple as eating fruit

Simple as sharing the desire

Held within their warm mouths

That came pouring out

As they talked

And as they engaged

In long breathless kisses

Neither one of them

Looking into the future

That knew them better

Than they knew themselves