Does a pen or keyboard as tools for writing get us to tell a story. Paper and a blank screen with a cursor blinking on and off make a way for writing? Maybe it depends on the time and where writing takes place to tell a story without pictures and or with them.
I preferred pictures in every book thought that's considered immature maybe but they tell a better understanding of a story. We assume alot of feelings, accusations, environmental affairs for a conversation don't we.
To write would be to maybe take thoughts and feelings down on paper that stem from a particular places, behaviors, and or personality to tell how it related to characters telling stories. Pick a subject such as parenting.
Parenting deals with alot of feelings. Feelings that don't last, yet change entire behaviors. My refuge is a good book and some music with a dvd or two, here is where time and rest meet for me.
Psalms 23, the Lord is my refuge, is a very nice chapter in Psalms I've carried in memory since I was young. I debate about going to a parenting movie, meeting, or teaching that resembles tips,advice, or lesson so I've managed to procrastinate yet pay very close attention to my own families upbringing hands on love and care.
When I'm short on resources such as transportation and or money, family,television, libraries,friends,and the Web have been resourcefully for me.
Monday, April 24, 2017
Friday, April 7, 2017
Paoli, IN Coffee Chronicles:
Love the 4 hours to get there. Coffee stops. And after a handful of times riding through the hill roads of Paoli,Indiana, I have seen the quiet and dark nights. There is many bonfires and deer. Maybe a little fishing and hiking it seems throught a place where outsiders go. I feel it has fresher air and a wet heat during the summers too muggy for pleasured time.
Wine, fish fry, and lots of fruit are my favorite there while feeding catfish or large gold ones. The air is cleaner than in the Region. The sticks are home to deer and many other an
imals. The hummingbirds and catapillas are very friendly.
Pitch black nights with the smell and sound of bonfire fill the crackling and sizzling O2 with the strong aroma of burning wood. The truest site for an old friends haunted film horror with utter and complete silence and the blackest of night skies.
The long narrow roads tip into spirals. My sons father's parents run the rough maintenance of sustainable measures of their home in the middle of the mountains, and green valleys. Coffee, fresh water, and a bbq pit bring an essential utopia for the full life of a watermelon crawler.
Country music sweeps you up in love. This very potent aroma of camp fire smoke and pitch black sky can blend in the sharp stillness of the very hot summers. Believe it or not the lady bugs and flies come in swarms to invade this harmonious southern legendart town.
Wine, fish fry, and lots of fruit are my favorite there while feeding catfish or large gold ones. The air is cleaner than in the Region. The sticks are home to deer and many other an
Pitch black nights with the smell and sound of bonfire fill the crackling and sizzling O2 with the strong aroma of burning wood. The truest site for an old friends haunted film horror with utter and complete silence and the blackest of night skies.
The long narrow roads tip into spirals. My sons father's parents run the rough maintenance of sustainable measures of their home in the middle of the mountains, and green valleys. Coffee, fresh water, and a bbq pit bring an essential utopia for the full life of a watermelon crawler.
Country music sweeps you up in love. This very potent aroma of camp fire smoke and pitch black sky can blend in the sharp stillness of the very hot summers. Believe it or not the lady bugs and flies come in swarms to invade this harmonious southern legendart town.
Monday, April 3, 2017
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Petrified Bone Nights
It was a very hard night and the quiet sound of the silent house was filled with Indianas sweet old man snores. Yet papa snored long and vigorously loud enough to hear from the other side of the top floor.
All the colors coordinated with the furniture new and some classic. It had been three years since Margo promised good times to another boyfriend and middle aged and out of sunk or umph as her mom would say, she often sank in corners of rooms weeping hot tears of failure.
Convinced of the aging process by the looks of her lines and stretch marks she was ready for a another commitment one to go back to her old but happier ways of welless by losing forty pounds and dressing up everyday for kereoke and wine nights at the pizza bar.
Although there wasnt a car or a job anywhere near her season of the uglies, her harsh outlook on life left her with too many lonely nights and weekends. The dead winter ground was dried up outside and there wasn't a warm day in sight.
Her nights were achingly restless. All her joints were crackling as she walked to and from heating bottles up for her 10 month old son Jonah. She had found solace in his face and all his loves for putting everything in one place his mouth.
Dreaming of being a good mom and sister was her values, and coffee. Her knees snapped and popped as she moved and sat down from room to room. The weather was dry and cold without a desert in sight. The streets of cars cramped up around street lights. The traffic through fast food lined and shopping stores decreased while everyone stayed home to shop and save money.
Margo was desensitized her parents ranted. All the blame for her mother's illnesses were caused by her oldest daughters middle age bad choices all without money her dad would say.
Dry mouth, dry skin, creek bones she was turning into the walking dead zombies so popular on television.
All the colors coordinated with the furniture new and some classic. It had been three years since Margo promised good times to another boyfriend and middle aged and out of sunk or umph as her mom would say, she often sank in corners of rooms weeping hot tears of failure.
Convinced of the aging process by the looks of her lines and stretch marks she was ready for a another commitment one to go back to her old but happier ways of welless by losing forty pounds and dressing up everyday for kereoke and wine nights at the pizza bar.
Although there wasnt a car or a job anywhere near her season of the uglies, her harsh outlook on life left her with too many lonely nights and weekends. The dead winter ground was dried up outside and there wasn't a warm day in sight.
Her nights were achingly restless. All her joints were crackling as she walked to and from heating bottles up for her 10 month old son Jonah. She had found solace in his face and all his loves for putting everything in one place his mouth.
Dreaming of being a good mom and sister was her values, and coffee. Her knees snapped and popped as she moved and sat down from room to room. The weather was dry and cold without a desert in sight. The streets of cars cramped up around street lights. The traffic through fast food lined and shopping stores decreased while everyone stayed home to shop and save money.
Margo was desensitized her parents ranted. All the blame for her mother's illnesses were caused by her oldest daughters middle age bad choices all without money her dad would say.
Dry mouth, dry skin, creek bones she was turning into the walking dead zombies so popular on television.
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