October 2011
1 post
6 tags
6 tags
Bliss is Elora
It’s best known for its cliffs; the hanging rocks taunting the bubbling water, seemingly a mile below. The cracked rocks are heavy with teenage nostalgia for anyone who grew up in the area; back in the not-so-distant past when jumping into unknown water didn’t hold any consequence.
Since it opened in July of 1954, Elora Gorge Conservation Area has played host to numerous families, children’s...
6 tags
The Definition of Perspective
Heather stood, facing forward. As the man on her left’s warm arm pushed against hers, she pivoted her back ever-so-slightly and spoke to Matt on her right. She yelled trivial words into his ear to provide purpose to her turn; she didn’t want to offend. As she spoke, skinny streams of smoke bounced in front of her, slid up her face, crawled over her lips and clawed into her nostrils. She twisted...
September 2010
1 post
againstthedyinglight-deactivate asked: It's been so long. When will you write again?
August 2010
4 posts
5 tags
The Definition of Making Conversation
“Do you have kids?”
“No. Do you?”
“I use to … I lost a child.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine that.”
“Yeah.”
“How old was he or she?”
“She. And she was 23.”
“Crap. When was this?”
“Two years ago. Overseas.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. At least she died for a noble cause.”
“You think?”
The woman spins her head around and Jane flinches.
Jane then stands up, grabs her bag, excuses herself and...
4 tags
The Definition of Exposure.
Kylie is dumbfounded as Greg grabs his chin and tugs. He winces and peels the skin upward.
She is aware that her words are starting to run dry: they’re only drizzling from her mouth now. She bites her lip to contain the last of them. And as her legs take a step backward, she feels her neck stretching, propelling her wide eyes closer.
He’s peeling at his nose.
She feels her legs take...
4 tags
The Definition of Fear.
“Ok, Here’s the truth. I’ve had a crush on you for years. Well, more than a crush,” His eyes are closed as he lays on the bed.
She waits.
“I love you, actually.”
She kisses him.
“I love you, Jennifer.”
“Please don’t tell me that for the first time. Not now. Not when you’re drunk.”
“Shit. Of course you...
4 tags
The Definition of Butterflies in the Stomach.
Charlotte walks past Robert as he is seated with people who are alien to her. And as she does this, she purposely brushes his shoulder. She doesn’t want to appear rude by ignoring him, and she also doesn’t want to intrude.
But Robert flips his head around and buries it into her stomach, groaning softly. His arms loosely wrap around her and he asks her how she is. She replies as she...
July 2010
2 posts
Thank You (Interlude)
I would just like to thank all of you for the follow. It’s greatly appreciated.
Thank you:
onwiththeshananigns, vanesanice, joyjoy791, flairey, smilesforzander, youropenpalms, thesmokinghobo, yourconfessions, christellamontella, ithinkyouarelovelyy, saucyyoungtrollop, loveepicly, blueberrystars, happyniss.
And to iamcaptiveinyoursky: thank you for all your kind words. It’s...
5 tags
The Definition of Life has no limits if you're not...
“I rush things.”
“I noticed.”
“It’s intense, I realize that.”
“Yeah, it can be.”
“I don’t want things rushed, trust me.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I get excited. I get so excited with certain things in life that I can’t contain myself; I want to jump up and down.”
“You get...
June 2010
1 post
7 tags
The Definition of Moving On
Jane walks through the city-made park with the borrowed dog. She’s thinking that the dog is pleasant enough company: friendly and old and fat enough that she keeps a good pace. Plus, the dog only barks at people who she, herself, would bark at too, if only it was allowed.
As well, the dog reminds Jane of her best friend from childhood. But today, as the clouds bump and bounce against each...
May 2010
2 posts
The Definition of Connection
Claire is seated by the brook. She’s listening to the bubbles tinkling against the rocks in her left ear, and to the lyrics of random music in her right.
(There’s this lingering feeling, like I’m missing something. I feel like I’m missing something)
With heavy eyes, she’s trying to make sense of the days past; trying to find more revelations. Blank sheets lay...
The Definition of Unlikely Passion
She walks, but feels herself gliding instead.
That’s probably the drinks.
Staring up at the sky, she sees the stars staring back at her. They’re welcoming, embracing, reminding her of all the wishes made on their backs when she was a child.
When did I turn into a fucking hippie?
She trips on the sidewalk, is robbed of her mood for a moment, looks around to see if her stumble was...
April 2010
2 posts
The Definition of Narcissism
“You’re working on calling people?” She glances at the paper in my hand.
“Yeah. Just the orders that are ready,” Dammit. Do I need to look busier than this?
“Ok, when you’re done, can you clean up aisle 41?” she turns, taking a couple strides out of the cove of the department.
“Sure,” I tell her back. “Oh, and …”
...
The Definition of a Signal
“What now?” she asks herself. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s out of breath and she can feel a slight wetness in her armpit. Lifting up her arms, she examines the spot in the mirror and wonders how anyone could ever find her attractive. She’s just finished dancing in front of a mirror, pretending she’s being admired.
Throwing her hand at herself, dismissing her...
March 2010
1 post
The Definition of Longing
“Dammit,” she mutters and looks away. Her eyes blur slightly. Taking a deep breath, her chest raises and lowers. She tries to cover it up with a yawn, a superficial stretch of the arms. She looks up at him, her eyes pierce.
Feel it, feel it. they tell him. You can feel it, can’t you? Experience it. Let it be me.
Let me be the one who occupies your mind.
The one who...
February 2010
5 posts
rap, rap, rap ...
Shit. I’m going to be late for work. Where are my keys?
“Rrg.”
I turn, I can’t remember where I put them. I can feel the sweat start to bead on my brow.
“Ug.”
I’m patting myself down, feeling in my pockets. Nothing. I run upstairs and pat my clothes pile down. Nothing. I’m late. I’m going to miss my bus to my pathetic job. Nancy will not let this one go.
I run back downstairs to take...
-Seventeen
Dear Postal Carrier,
I have to hand it to you, he’s been whistling again. He’s been flirting again. And he’s been skipping a little. I haven’t asked him anything further, I don’t want to know. I can’t be sure it’s because of your letter, or what, so don’t take it all to your head.
And yes, I’m angry with you. I don’t know why. Give me a...
12 tags
-Sixteen
Dear Postal Carrier,
I’m writing you this letter at work, amidst the buzzing and clanging of the cafeteria. The outside wall is floor to ceiling window and it’s unusually bright out. I’ve been squinting all morning. In line, I ate as much of a container of poutine before the cashier discovered that I didn’t have enough money in my bank account to pay for it. She made me...
10 tags
-Fifteen
<!—[endif]—>
9 tags
-Fourteen
Dear Postal Carrier,
It’s a bit warmer today. For your sake, I’m glad to see that.
My dreams have been vivid lately. I don’t remember all the intricacies of them, leaving me with this lagging feeling all day long. Like that movie, Momento. Did you ever see that? I feel like every day, when I rip the blankets off me and sit up, I’m starting a puzzle. All these vague...
January 2010
13 posts
10 tags
-Thirteen
Dear Postal Carrier,
I haven’t told anyone that I’m writing to you.
Why, you ask?
I’m not too sure myself, probably because most people wouldn’t understand it.
Hell. I don’t even understand it, really.
I could give you a logical explanation: I’m trying to practice my writing.
I could give you a compassionate explanation: I want you to feel visible and have something to do on your walk.
I could...
9 tags
-twelve
Dear Postal Carrier,
I’m turning 30 soon. I’m scared. Well, that’s not fully true. I’m scared, but I’m delighted, too. I feel good, grown up. I feel like I could, maybe, be taken seriously once or twice a week. Except that I still look like I’m 22-years-old. A blessing and a curse.
But I like 30-year-olds. All my life I’ve felt older than everyone around me. And that’s not a snobbish remark at...
8 tags
-Eleven
Dear Postal Carrier,
It’s cold out today. Are you allowed to wear extra winter gear? Is it all issued by the postal service? Does it have to match? Is it warm?
How do you pull yourself out of bed each morning on days like this? I mean, my mail wasn’t so important that I needed it today, you shouldn’t have to risk your health.
I was thinking about what to write you today, and I figured, what...
6 tags
-Ten
Dear Postal Carrier,
(Is that what you like to be called, now?)
I don’t know who you are, in fact I’ve never even caught a glimpse of you. But I know that you exist; unless you’ve all been fired by now and replaced with faeries carrying dead trees, bleached and sealed. But then, why would there be size eight footprints leading up to my house?
I was at work the other day and a man told me...
Salinger, a great story.
Why did J.D. Salinger spend the last 60 years hiding in a shed writing love notes to teenage girls?
By Anne De Courcy Last updated at 7:57 AM on 29th January 2010
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1246881/Why-did-J-D-Salinger-spend-60-years-hiding-shed-writing-love-notes-teenage-girls.html
Comments (14)
Add to My Stories
The writer J. D. Salinger, who died yesterday aged 91,...
-Nine-
Dear You,
Feel free to do with this what you will. Feel free to read it, digest it, crumble it or throw it away. For it may be everything and it may be nothing. It may fall upon you like the first flake of the season, fluffy and sluggish, a kiss of chill as it melts in your hair. It may be what you’ve been searching for and it may be what you’ve been longing for. You may despise it,...
-Eight-
Walking in the path of footprints, she pulls herself up the driveway. The house’s deep blue paint is flaking off, like confetti on the snow. Around the edges of the house, chewed brown wood is exposed.
She curses them for not shoveling.
She catches herself doing this out loud.
She reaches the house and extends her arm to lift the lid of the mailbox. It’s already full. She pulls...
-Seven- 23.01.10
“So I’ve been having this dream lately,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“…and?”
“Well, it’s not just lately. It’s actually been for, like, years I think.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Years?”
“Yep. And it’s never the same, but it’s always the same place. But it...
5 tags
-Five- 14.01.10
He stands, walks out of the room trying to find something, anything to distract himself. He watches the arrow slowly moving to the ‘off’ position, ticking along, then finally moves his soggy clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. He returns to the computer.
“Come on, come on,” he whispers.
Nothing.
He refreshes.
Nothing.
He refreshes again, this time willing...
-Four- 11.01.10
The doorbell rang. It was a Christmas song.
“It’s jingle bells! You can choose what song you want played,” the 11-year-old sister said, laughing and hugging her knees while rocking back and forth in the corner of the couch.
“High tech,” I replied.
The house, just a month ago, was covered in glitter and twinkly frills. Now, there remained only a couple remnants of...
6 tags
-Three- 08.01.10
“Tortured!”
“Yeah, tortured.”
“You really have a thing for that.”
“For what?”
“For people who are tortured.”
“Yeah, yeah I do.”
“Why is that?”
“Well. why is that? I don’t know. Makes them interesting, I suppose. Makes them creative. They have more depth.”
“Hmmm …”
...