Sunset

“As they ran, the sun projected its final scene across their metallic skin, a moving screen of muscle.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Orbiting The Question

A couple of things kept me from writing blog posts over the last few weeks. One is my DNA test. I had it done through Ancestry.com, after a lot of thought. Actually, what I really did was purchase the test then let it sit in a drawer for almost a year. And not because I forgot it. I just didn’t want to find out that my mom and stepfather were wrong.

When I was fifteen and feeling pretty smug about who I was, my folks broke the news that my biological cocktail wasn’t made in-house. They were in the middle of a nasty divorce, and I’m pretty sure my brother and I were being asked to choose sides. I chose my father’s side (and I use that term loosely) because we’d always been closer. He’d spent more time with me and accepted my emerging personality of follower and worshiper. It was many years later when I truly acknowledged the costs associated with that relationship. That is another story.

My mother did offer to name my biological father. She did offer a bridge over the chasm of reserve and divorce, but I was angry at the time and unwilling to allow a newcomer into my tiny circle of chaos. We left that subject behind us, like a condemned building, and never returned.

Continue reading “Orbiting The Question”

Memory, dream or deja vu?

Memories come in so many different shapes, sizes and flavors. I’ve had a few extra recently. I’m not sure why. Could it be that I’m growing older? Even though I’m not that old, yet. I do plan on making plenty of memories still. And it’s not the first time that my memories have come in waves. I can’t anticipate them. Anything could set them off, the smell of bread baking, the view of my home from a hillside or the sound of a bus as it brakes at a stop. In their own way, I think memories recreate a new moment. Something between a dream and deja vu.

1-w Prog_FilesSome days memories roll over me like ocean waves. These are calm moments brought on by echoes of laughter that cross my face with a smile. Minutes may pass before I come up for air and realize that I am floating.

On occasion, I’m caught in a wave’s curl. In those intense moments my muscles tighten as I fight against the pull of violent events. Aware of my surroundings, I grasp for air. Minutes may pass before I’m thrown on the safety of the shore.

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© Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

As I Walk Out of the Light

As I walk out of the light, the dark swallows me whole, and the earth pats my barefoot soul hello.

My feet return the greeting.  Faster, along the path, pretending to gallop, I divine my way.  As the night air takes me in its arms, I push against her soil, and give a whoop.  Somewhere down the road, a howl is returned, and a train wreck of barking bursts and bangs on windows.  I push again and pluck the stars as disturbed night owls flutter.  They’ve got nothing on me.  I’m too big to carry off, and devour.  Battle weary blades of grass, heroic defenders of mole fortresses, brush against my ankles.  Flickers of light through fences send their warnings like lighthouse calls.  And I race on, for there are no breakers here, no reefs to crash upon.  Here, in the shadows, only the sighs of eddies trail behind me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The probabilities that make a story

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Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t. – Mark Twain.

As a fiction writer, I read a lot of fiction. I also read a lot of current nonfiction material.
Continue reading “The probabilities that make a story”

A gold vein of routine

Tonight there was something soothing in the rhythmic hum of the dishwasher next door. I could hear it best from my bathroom, a tiny space with just enough room for a toilet and a bathtub. I sat there and listened for a moment, or two. Everything else melted away, and I felt my shoulders fall from their perch next to my ears. They’d been there all day. Continue reading “A gold vein of routine”

Creative Flow at the Shoreline

California shoreline. It’s where I love to walk and let my mind wander. It’s where some of my best writing ideas pop into my head. The Richmond shoreline that overlooks El Cerrito is a particular favorite of mine. Part of the San Francisco Bay Trail, this area inspires creativity of all kinds. I’ve seen an array of painters seated under umbrellas here and watched photographers with complex equipment aim for their best shots. And who knows how many poets, fiction writers or other creative souls I’ve passed along this path. Today, by chance, I might even return a smile from a fellow writer.

 

 

 

© Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jan Joe and Born in the year of the dog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.