Class # 2

Off I went to creative writing, class # 2. Poem in hand. Apparently I write better under pressure. I managed to squeeze out a poem that got various reactions.
My dear Joel told me to please tell the class that the poem was not from my real life, to please show them I have no bruises and to please tell them my children are fed on a regular basis (even the gourmet cereal counts.) Remember, "gourmet" in my house is translated to "with raisins in it".
The teacher told me it was powerful and frightening and a student wiped away a tear.
I have no idea where that poem came from or what possessed me to write such a dark thing, but here it is:

Windows.

Outside the window
I see him hunched over her telling her how much he loves her
Inside the window
He is hunched over her telling her what a stupid, worthless wife she is

Outside the window
I see a family hugging each other while tears are rolling, they won the lottery
Inside the window
A family is hugging each other while tears are rolling, they're mourning the loss of a child

Outside the window
I see an old man sitting in his chair, holding a glass of whiskey. He looks content.
Inside the window
Is an old man sitting in his chair, holding a glass of whiskey and with a stomach full of sleeping pills.
He is content.

Outside the window
I see a small boy and a girl, playing quietly on the floor.
Inside the window
Is a small boy and a girl, playing quietly on the floor wondering when they will eat again.

Outside the window
Is the happy world
Inside the window
Is reality.


On a more cheerful note French girl looking for Sherman has decided to ditch him and come back to creative writing. Last night her theme was "nautical" and she was dressed head to toe in red, white and blue. Even her pen matched the outfit.
I truly admire people who can put that much effort into getting dressed every day.
Personally I have mastered the art of sleeping in a pair of leggings that I can just throw a shirt over the next morning and pull it off as "casual bohemian". NOT.

The avid reader will be pleased to know that we have now finished season 4 of Jack Bauer and since I am going away for the weekend we will not start season 5 just yet.

Tonight I get my groceries delivered. It really is very handy to place an order on-line and have someone else carry it up all those stairs. I feel slightly bad as the delivery guy makes his way up to my flat. I can hear him complaining the whole way up and I stand at the door ready to quickly grab my bags before the sweat from his face drips into my organic free range chicken.
I don't know why I would have a problem with his sweat on my chicken, apparently all the beef we eat (and I mean "we" as in all of us, yes, you too) has been rinsed in chemicals before we buy it. What could a little sweat possibly do.

Well, my good friend the washer is calling me. Have a terrific Thursday out there.