it’s been awhile

Boy it’s been quite a while since I’ve written! I haven’t felt up to it due to various illnesses and a bit of stress. So here’s what’s happening now. I completed the workshop which was a lot of fun and NaNoWriMo begins in a matter of days. I’ll be spending the month of November writing my first novel (working title).

As for my photography, it’s currently up at Growing Strange so if you’re interested please check it out!

As for other things…my personal life…I missed StoryCorps. It was my chance to memorialize my father and I missed it because I was sick. His birthday was the 18th. He’s on my mind a lot these days.

Anyway! Here’s my last piece of dialogue from the workshop. I hope you like it! Also!!! My new blog is

almost ready. I’ll let you know the new address when it’s ready.

 

Dialogue #6

“Do you have any marks?” Tegan asked looking down at the clip board. “cuz if you do we’ll need to take pictures.”

“Um, yes.” she said in the hushed tone of a beaten puppy.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Tegan left her alone with her thoughts. She couldn’t shut off the screaming so she stared at the walls, white with floral trim. She took off her flip flops and felt the shag carpet underneath. She turned her face to the window and tried to find calm.

From the office Tegan searched slowly for the camera. She’d been a bit off since lunch. She’d been off since he told her goodbye. Geoff and Tegan had been together for a year and a half and were planning a December wedding until lunch. It was lunch when he told her that he didn’t feel the same anymore and that he was going back home to Oregon. His flight would leave in three days. After locating the camera, and her composure, Tegan went back to her.

“Okay, stand up by that wall” Tegan said. She quietly stood leaving her shoes off and slowly walked to the white wall. Tegan took shot after shot of each and every bruise, scratch and cut. Tegan answered her questions without listening to what she was saying. Both she and Tegan weren’t ready for this.

“you know, he wasn’t always like this.” She said, her voice trembling. “He was an artist. He used to tell me that I was his world.”

“I know.” Tegan whispered. “You know, Mom’s worried about you.”

“I know.” She said gazing at her lap.

Tegan stared at the woman she used to know. “Let me tell you about the rules of the house.”

Tegan grabbed her sisters’ hand and walked her down the hall.

hello, hello

Hey everyone, I’m working hard on the writer’s workshop and getting a lot out of it. I’m very pleased with my progress though I still have a lot to learn. Still dealing with stuff but the load is getting lighter. My mom was accepted to grad school so when she moves out in January she’ll be okay. I’m going to Colorado Springs this Saturday to take part in Story Corps. I’ll be interviewed by my husband and we’ll be talking about/remembering/honoring my father. I’m nervous but happy at the same time. It’s going to take a lot to keep it together. If they put it up on NPR I’ll share it with you.

And one last thing, my camera is DEAD and I don’t have a replacement so there won’t be any new photos up until the new Nikon is in my hands…but it will happen soon.

Okay here’s my dialogue from last week:

I love it when the sky is gray like today. The clouds threatening to weep. Addison thought to herself. She stood at the counter refilling the container of powdered creamer while listening to the clock tick closer to 8.

“Well God got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning! Have you seen that sky out there?” Annabelle said sitting down to one of the many tables.

I love this weather. Addison whispered to herself. Entering the room, Annabelle and Karen, the worst gossips in the office. Addison only spoke to them when she needed entertainment.

“Morning Walter! How are ya?” Karen said appearing more perky than a person is allowed to be.

“Can’t complain anymore than usual.” he said. Addison always thought that he looks like he’s waiting to die. Ever since he lost his wife he’s always had that look. The only reason he works anymore is so that someone will find the body. He told Addison that her first week on the job. Also, he doesn’t want his cats to eat him. “Traffic was rough, I’m out of oatmeal and my back hurts. But it always hurts…”People seem to stop paying attention to him once his mouth opened.

“So, I went out with Gary last night.” Annabelle said.

“That new guy you were talking about? Tall, thin, kind of-” Karen thought out loud.

“-A Loser. That’s what Annabelle goes for.” Did Addison say that out loud?

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“So, how was it?” Karen asked.

“Oh, not as good as it could have. He wanted to eat at that new Indian place downtown…”

Ah, Indian food. Too many Brown people for her. Addison thought as she went back to the creamer, her peaceful moment ruined by the two ladies. She took a deep breath  looking out at the gray clouds. It was on days like this that the best things happened. It would be a good day unless God did actually get up on the wrong side of the bed. Then we’re all fucked.

“So I was watching Crime Unit last night.” Karen said “I just love that James Crug! He’s just so good and so attractive…” Karen runs the regional Official James Crug fanclub and decorates her cubical with posters and postcards appropriate to convey her obsession. Addison thought she was weird. Out the window the clouds seemed to be fighting, preparing for a big finish.

“What are ya doin there Addison?” Walter asked.

“Just refilling the creamer.” she said looking at him over her shoulder. “It was low and I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“Ah sure.” Walter said watching her hands. “How are you liking the job?”

“Oh, it pays the bills.” she responded “It’s not a forever job, just a for now one, you know.” she said noticing him watching her hands and smiling to himself. She turned back to the creamer.

“Ah yes, I know how it is. Just one day after the other.”

“Yeah. Never thought I’d be here. It won’t be much longer though I wouldn’t think.” Addison kept spooning the white powder into the container, her back to the room.

“I don’t know Annabelle. That doesn’t sound like a safe idea.”

“Oh Karen you worry too much. I’ll be fine. It’s just a dating thing. I’ll sit there and the men will rotate. They sit with you for a couple of minutes. You know, so that you can get to know them or know if you’re wasting time.” Annabelle said with a smile.

“I still don’t know. I have a guy I can-”

“-Yeah I’ve heard about him. Thanks but no.”

Addison’s attention turned from the women back to her own thoughts. Like why was she still there? Will she still be here in ten years? She hated it there. Hated the lights, the walls and the smell. She hated the people –

“So what do you see yourself doing?” Walter asked more interested in her than usual.

“I don’t know but there’s go to be something better than this, you know?”

“Sure.” He said and looking at his coffee.

Addison finished scooping the white power into the creamer container. She looked at the wrapper the words,“powdered laxative”, showing prominently. It looks just like creamer.

Walter looked at her and winked. “Yeah, I think I’ll be skipping the creamer for a while.”

A tiny light at the end of the writer’s block tunnel.

I’ve been gone for a bit. I’ve disappeared because of worry and depression. I’m busy trying to push my way out of it and I think I’m actually doing it. I’m in an online writer’s workshop that just started last Thursday. It’s focus is dialogue and it’s actually helping me with the block. For that I’m grateful.

Here’s the first assignment:

“The road to suicide is getting shorter and shorter, Jacob. If I can’t get past this and get some sleep I worry that it will be my only option.” she sighed heavily. “You want another cup of tea?” Aimee got up from the table and walked to the kitchen counter.

“Sure, thanks.” he said as she poured. “So, what’s going on?”

“Work isn’t going like I wanted. I’m not getting the promotions I hoped for. I may be quitting soon.” she stood watching the sunrise through her kitchen window. Thinking about how things used to be, how she wished they could be again. “Do you remember when we were together? I’ve been thinking about that all week.”

“Yeah? Good thoughts?” he asked watching her fidget with a butter knife.

“Bittersweet. I mean, it was high school.” she said as she buttered a piece of bread.

“True enough. So, when’s the last time you slept?”

“Yeah. But that last night.” she said holding back tears.

“Yeah. It was bad.”

“Yeah.” That one night had been weighing on her for years. She was never able to apologize before he left for the coast. “I haven’t slept in a week, since I found out.”

“Wanna talk about it? The no sleeping thing not that last night cuz honestly I don’t remember much about it anymore.” he said taking a sip of tea. He liked the taste but wasn’t sure what kind it was and he wasn’t going to ask because this didn’t seem like the time.

“Of course you don’t.” she said glaring at him, remembering everything. Unfortunately she rarely forgot.

“Yeah sorry.” he said sheepishly.

She shrugged her shoulders in forgiveness and sat back down at the table. “It’s okay. Anyway, how’ve you been?”

“Can’t complain. The music thing is going well…we’re on the verge.” he said with emphasis on the last word.

“Yeah? On the verge of what exactly?” she asked hearing that word from him many times in the past.

“Um, greatness.” he smiled proudly.

“Okay.”

“Yeah, so…” he looked at her, then the TV, then her, then the door.

Interrupting his thought, “Listen, I’m sorry. I really am. It was my fault, my idea.”

“Water under the bridge babe.” he said.

She paused for a moment, thought if over and responded “Okay, don’t call me babe.”

That’s it. It’s going to be part of a short story focusing on the insomnia of Aimee and the conversation with Jacob. It think it’s going to be good. I hope so.

One last thing, we lost a brilliant mind last weekend. Kick ass poet, Jim Carroll (of The Basketball Diaries fame). You will be missed.

Learning to deal

I have always had a problem with dealing with stressors in my life. My father’s death when I was nine, my diagnosis of MS, my former “relationships” (this is in quotes because I’m not sure what they were.). Any major thing gets prettied up and dealt with by not dealing with it. So now I am blocked and wondering if I need to mourn my former self, the person I was before the dianosis. The thing is that I didn’t really like that person. She did the things that I still do but I want it more than she did. I want more than she had but I can’t seem to do it. I have wasted time planning for the future, a future that was never going to happen. So I sit here still blocked and worrying about the deeper issues and what, if anything, I should do. Sigh.

T.

Happy Sunday, Starshine!

I woke this morning in the usual way, a little too early, with a cup of coffee and did a wake and bake (no worries, I’m legal.). As I was journaling I realised that I need to get over this block. I’m desparate to get over it. So I’m back to work starting over tomorrow. No cleaning, just writing. No submitting, just writing! I think thoughts of goals I have with in the next year and the thought that I’m just wasting time right now. I don’t want to be stuck in this place an longer.

On another note, here are more pics of my art. I took these in a beauty shop in Des Moines, IA. I really need to email them to the owner. Enjoy!

Beauty Shop 2008 #17

Beauty Shop 2008 #23

Beauty Shop 2008 #24

All were taken with Ilford HP5 then edited in Picaso3.

wading through a block

Did a little more writing today. Wrote notes for three more poems. Basically
I had a creative day and I loved it.
The songs:

“Shambala” by Three Dog Night. : this poem turned cathardic somehow. washing away the
old and welcoming the new.

“Keep Yourself Warm” by Frightened Rabbit. : I can’t remember where I first heard this
song. It was on TV if I remember correctly. But when I heard it I knew that I needed
to write a poem to it. The poem itself was nice to write. Kind of dark for sure.

“You Found Me” by The Fray. : Another song I heard on television. It struck me when I
heard it so I added it to the list. The poem ended quickly. It feels like an old
break-up poem for an ex.

Here’s more of my photography. I hope you enjoy them and please let me know what you think!
If you like any of them and you want to see more go to my DeviantArt page the link is located under ‘Where
I am’ to your right. I don’t have an official photo webpage yet, but when I do I’ll let you know!
If there is an image that you would like to buy please email me at ernst.wonch@gmail.com.

parking.

spokes

the ryan ranch.

i took a break from writing today because i just got some
film back. it’s of the ryan ranch in color. it shows the
age of the subjects and uses the sun nicely. i’m still
editing right now and then i’ll submit. i’m still deciding
on my photo website but, as usual, i’ll let you know when
it’s up. also, please email me at ernst.wonch@gmail.com if
you have any interest in my work. thanks!

ryan ranch 2

ryan ranch 4.5

ryan ranch 19

ryan ranch 9

Taken with Fuji Superia/Canon Rebel.

Poetry, photography and ELO?

More writing today. Unfortunately it’s at the expense of getting any cleaning done.
But I am not a housewife so no surprises there. I wrote two more poems today. The songs
were somewhat fun and the writing flowed easily.

“Linger” by The Cranberries. : This song was a fave from my twenties. I love the
haunting quality. The writing was nice as well. The SOC worked well. I went in
without an idea of who or what this poem would be about and that worked nicely
for me.

“Mr. Blue Sky” by ELO. : This song was easy to write to. The poem’s focus was
on the sun and rain with children wanting ice cream. It was weird and not about
anyone I know or any incident that I’ve experienced. Revision should be a breeze.

I haven’t done any work on fiction because there’s stuff that I need to get done
but I do plan on working on it today at some point. I’ll let you know how that goes
tomorrow.

So here’s more of my photography. I hope you enjoy them and please let me know what you think!
If you like and you want to see more go to my DeviantArt page the link is located under ‘Where
I am’ to your right. I don’t have an official photo webpage yet, but when I do I’ll let you know!
If there is an image that you would like to buy please email me.

skate

piano

New poems and some photography stuff.

I was able to get a little writing done today. The result is two more
poems.

“American Girl” by Tom Petty. : This song is my all-time favorite of
Tom Petty. The poem is about my mother. The lyrics talk of a woman
looking for something better and that would be my mother…unfortunately.

“Aint Gonna Lose You” by Brett Dennen. : I heard this song on TV somewhere
and I thought it was beautiful. I’m a big fan of Dennen’s and I wanted to
write a poem to one his songs. The poem is for my husband. It reflects briefly
on our past and future. This one might be for his birthday. We’ll see.

On to other things. I have basically taken a break from ficition again, though
I am getting ideas and urges so I think that I’ll get back to it tomorrow.
I was thinking that instead of a poem today I would share a photo. These are
from my playground series. “L is for Lonely” and “S is for Solitude”. I hope you enjoy
them. Let me know what you think!

L is for Lonely

S is for Solitude

If you like and you want to see more go to my DeviantArt page the link is located under ‘Where I am’ to your right. I don’t have an official photo webpage yet, but

when I do I’ll let you know!

More poetry and music.

More poetry today!

“Brighter Discontent” by The Submarines. : This was actually difficult
to write. The song is about sadness and a break-up but I wanted to
write this one for my husband. It kind of turned out nicely but it
needs revision.

As for fiction writing I’m taking a break from it today. Not feeling well
so I’m not in the best mood. But one thing I did realize is that if I’m going
to blog I shouldn’t be afraid of peoples opinions and just be myself. In
reality I’m weird, I have a license for medical marijuana (which i’ll
write about at a later date) and I’m bisexual. Now the reason I’m telling
you this is because those are the things I tend to hide from people. But
I figure if I can ‘come out’ about having Multiple Sclerosis I can talk
about the rest of it.

One more thing. I’m thinking that I have enough new poetry for two new chapbooks. It
will take a while to make them available (like a year) but the tentative titles
are… “cows mowing lawns” and “soundtrack” (not terribly happy with this one). We’ll see.

____________________________________

Here’s another poem for your reading pleasure, “The Zealot“.

The Zealot

Driving through tunnel vision tequila swimming in my head
I listen to a young Elvis sing of heartbreaks while Rose
sits passenger style with a rag over her eyes,

We leave with dawn at our backs wondering if this is a good
idea but it is dawn that pushes us to our goal as the sun
tunnels its way through the skyline and the daily rag
targets porch swings and fills display bins while I watch
Ken dolls in Speedos stand dripping and half-naked rising
for their morning routine with their hair slicked back like
Elvis,

It is he who we search for like Thompson and his attorney
searching for the “American Dream” the great Elvis at
Graceland just waiting for our knock on the door the idea
materializing in the bottom of a shot glass back before
dawn had begun contemplating its rise,

So we sit in my truck its southern destination approaches
with each centimeter of the tunnel passing overhead and
with a kiss to the wind we leave the swimmers behind,

My companion hides her hangover underneath that cotton rag
while I make a sharp left in the excitement of his face
there on a billboard greeting me to let me know how close I have come I
loudly reminisce of wise men though my eyes
still swim laps I look to the west and bid farewell to dawn
as morning tries to make a break for it Rose now watches my
hands at 10 and 2,

But it’s Rose who sheds herself of her rag her cloak coming
out of her own private tunnel saying she now prefers Dylan
and would rather follow the dawn to western highways but my
head is still swimming thanks to that last shot and light
rises too quickly for my old Chevrolet unwilling to meet
dawn’s deadline,

She looks through cotton again searching for sleep and I
can see Elvis waiting for us in his Mamas’ dining room and
tunnel vision subsides no longer swimming between my ears
and that rag slips down Roses’ cheek and Elvis sings along
to the beat of the departing dawn smiling at me from the
end of the tunnel.

(c) TygerLily Ernst Wonch