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The (Other) Bucket List
On February 1, 2016 by Speranza
Day 5 in a house without water.
I awoke this morning to find that I had completely lost touch with the Environmentalist Within and after extravagantly using no less than three Adult Towellettes ( instead of enduring yet another geriatric sponge bath), I then enjoyed my toast and peanut butter on a scrap of facial tissue (save the plate washing!) which the cat then decided to lick the residual essence off. As his tongue melted through the paper, completely spoiling his treat, he shot me a disgusted “Really-has-it-come-to-THIS” look which there was no mistaking.
And I do feel badly about the waste but don’t judge.
These are trying times.
Once more, when I opened the front door this morning some dear, so-far anonymous friends had made a drop (no pun intended) and there was a variety of different sizes of water left, some with the cautionary, yet comical designation of “Flush Only …”
The identity of said ‘AquaMarines’ is yet to be determined but so, so wonderful; for another day or two, we need not worry about carrying in buckets or schlepping mammoth-sized jugs from the hardware store, walking as though one of my legs is a good deal shorter than the other.
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Water, Water Everywhere Nor Any Drop to Drink
On January 30, 2016 by Speranza
The General and I were in attendance at the show this week in order to see The Revenant on the big screen; it’s not my thing really, but I can still say that it’s worthwhile despite the endless, mercilessly close-up shots of flesh in varying stages of being charred or stitched or stabbed or scored like the top of a Shepherd’s Pie, which I had to watch through three fingers and occasionally not at all.
Director Alejandro González Iñárritu insisted that the film be shot entirely in natural light and as a result the bright, brittle harshness of winter really translates; in fact, I read recently that the very excellent Will Poulter (Jim Bridger) noted perceptively, that the weather almost has its own character within the film.
But meanwhile, back at our place, The General and I are experiencing a few of our own Revenant-style challenges, albeit without the gore and you know, raw bison liver …
This is Day 3 of a burst waterline that cannot be fixed yet ( cheerful, yet strangely unmoved plumbers tell us that there is too much water at the source to precisely deal with the leak) so we are living without running water in the freezing winter for a minimum of one week till some drainage occurs.
And it is not for sissies.
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October
On October 13, 2015 by Speranza Bending above the spicy woods which blaze, Arch skies so blue they flash, and hold the sun Immeasurably far; the waters run Too slow, so freighted are the river-ways With gold of elms and birches from the maze Of forests. Chestnuts, clicking one by one, Escape from satin burs; her fringes done, The gentian spreads
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To Blog or Not to Blog
On August 24, 2015 by Speranza
I haven’t been here for a while (hola, you ten faithful readers in Brazil who keep on visiting!) and I have no excuse, save the fact that my blogging mojo has been seriously depleted of late and I have devoted more time than I care to admit to feeling badly about my writing and being completely intimidated by other more polished blogs and writers who look edgy and are all geometric-hipster-haircuts and matte lip colour.
I’ve been writing on and off my whole life and certainly I have been published regularly in that short blasts of non-fiction/fiction here and there kind of way but it’s not really satisfying to me. It’s like making do with cheese and crackers and pretending it’s enough when actually, you are still starving; in fact, it’s like you are pretending you even like cheese and crackers in the first place.
I don’t know why short fiction has an inferiority complex but to me it does. I want the depth of a novel behind me, something I can point at and say, there, see that? I wrote that and there is my name and photo even if the same book is now wedged in the remainder bin …