What...?

Wednesday, 7 January 2015 17:30
partlyopenbook: (facepalm)
How did I not know this? How has it been almost a year two years, and I didn't know this? 

Granted, February of 2013 was not a time that I was exceptionally in touch with what else was going on with the world, outside of my family's woes. So, there's that excuse.

But still...

I will have to read her other series, the Dame Frevisse, and Joliffe mysteries... I've only read The Needlecraft Mysteries. Except the last one, the (now I think ironically-titled) And Then You Dye...

This sad post needs to end with a Quokka.

partlyopenbook: Not me. :) (Default)
 The last few days have been weird, and I still have a few weeks to go before the weirdness may subside. 
I decided my blog needs more QUOKKA!

quokka!

Quokkas even made it into my WIP novel, After Dan & Steve Saved the World.
 

"I'll message you later. Maybe we can have popcorn, no movie, just talk so I can explain."

 

"A whole conversation with you, just the two of us? Sounds far better than any movie." 

 

The next bleep on Ben's phone was an image Kris had sent of a quokka, an Australian marsupial that had one of the friendliest and happiest faces of any animal. Ben covered a laugh when he saw it. Nothing halted his low, rumbly chuckles, which then led him to a fake cough and a face a degree more red than usual.

Sadly, I haven't been able to work much on this story… Tomorrow will be better. 

[source, not hotlinked]

word association

Wednesday, 19 March 2014 09:50
partlyopenbook: (hullo)
In browsing an ebook about writing modern poetry, one of the exercises struck me as humorous: word association! In which the author has listed words and we respond with what word we think should come next. Do you want to play?

ice
love
memory
pain
divorce
poverty
scared
debt
homeless
mortgage
smell
ill
pet
music
heart
rubbish
journey
mind
sweet
wife
love
letter
sound
writing
poetry
money
silence
credit
music
drugs
children
words
time
songs
gold
flowers
wind
sea
sand
moon
 
Love is on here twice, as is music. I'm not sure why, other than the fact that this book is poorly edited. This would be a fun game to play with someone you're getting to know, or even with old friends, as it demonstrates aspects of his thought process that you mightn't anticipate! I think I'll mention this to my therapist -- it might be an interesting way to spend a session hour!

Here are my responses!

ice cream
love red
memory games
pain (ful) memories
divorce restoration
poverty oops
scared cold
debt square
homeless future
mortgage what?
smell pretty
ill wind
pet kitty!
music bliss
heart crime
rubbish scat
journey heart
mind keeper
sweet tea
wife apron
love holder
letter opener
sound room
writing life
poetry mass
money makers
silence screaming
credit limit
music journey
drugs corporations
children loud
words worlds
time passing
songs sung
gold rings
flowers gardens
wind racing
sea speaking
sand pit
moon "la mia madre la dea selene"

A lot of my phrases don't make sense... my associations are too far apart for that. Whoever heard of a poetry mass? Although I might go to church if they started having poetry masses! And, of course, I am fluent in Sea Speak! Some of my responses are pretty standard. For instance, "ice cream." Maybe I'm hungry.

I'm not getting much out of this book, however. And I don't necessarily agree with the definition of "bad poetry" the author uses. A bad poem is one that is "vague and blurred." Oh, really? I read a lot of poetry that's just like reading an inner monologue, and I find that bad (and boring)! Also, he avers that bad poetry is "thrown at us by every corner of the world because people do not pay attention to what they're writing." No one pays more attention to what they're writing than writers, be they poets or not.

The book, How to Write Modern Poetry, isn't widely available anymore, but if you want to take a peek at it, Google Books has it here.

And have a stanza from one of my "bad poems," summing up my feelings for vociferous writing pundits.

If it's a wholesome metaphor
your hands and morals prowl for,
I've been silenced by stockings,
porn, the kinks and kicks of my kind—
the gags of political sex:
I'm not your apologetic orator.
 
 
 
I think this tension I've created calls for a relaxing quokka picture!
 

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