Writing exercise by The Church Lady

The challenge was launched by Church Lady.

Here's my entry. This time the limit was set at 150 and the plot was about a dog that smells something awful/nasty and the reader should find out only at the end what's the reason for such a smell. I'm sorry if it hurts some of your delicate readers....it is based on real experience.

The day sprang peacefully; the Sun was emerging from the sea. I let Inky off the leash and contemplated the beach for a few minutes. I counted the flock of seagulls, caressed the tall grass with my eyes.

‘Inky!’ – My calling did not echo in the vast open space, it fell flat onto the sand.There she came, her ears flipping as she ran towards me.

‘Good girl’ I patted her.

I intended to stroll a bit more among the dunes, so I descended towards the beach. I wished to see the waves from really close. I like how they come out and go back again. I like the foam.

The dog was not coming and I called out again.Then I saw her and smelled her.

Oh, not again…

She was having her morning snack right at where I have been squatting.

Not again, you nasty dog.

Man, trapped in brick

he went for a twilight walk

under the orange moon

swaying delicately over the sky

with no clouds of whatever

reason can not tell how long has this plate

been watching the man as he was walking the dunes

up and down up and down

his feet got sandprickles between the toes

so he took off his sandals

and left in among the rounded shore hills

while keeping his chin up and watching up above

to the Moon, freshly full and triumphant

on the dark blue ceiling

here and there scattered with small lanterns

the stars hummed

the water splashed in his ear

as he was walking the trail of his heart

following the orbit that lead him to a house on the cliffs

his hands toouched rock his fingers claw

marks into the wall of his life

caught his body, his head

he lowered, comtemplated the outside

of which he no loonger was part of

he was within,

trapped

squeezed

out his breath

came out no more

to the breeze of the winds

coming down from the shore

carrying away the fear of motionless moments

he breathed in life

the heart stopped for long

m o t i o n l e s s

m o m e n t s

the water reached the shore and circled around a brick

he breathed out

the eyes were closing into themselves

s i l e n t l y

you can not beat simplicity

I have not written about food for a loooooong time. Now, it's time I got back to my stomach. Let me see if filling my stomach with some cinnamon I adore would ignite my brains...?
Anyhow, this is supposed to be the world's simplest oven-made cake. Oatmeal cookies.
Here's the recipe.
Ingredients for an average baking sheet:

300g oatflakes
6-8 Tbsp honey
6 Tbsp vegetable oil
100g walnut, finely chopped (optional)
1 liter of water
1 Tbsp ground cinnamon (can be added right away OR spread on top before putting the cake into the oven).

Preparation method:

Toss everything into a large bowl
Stir once or twice so that everything gets mixed
Let is rest for 30 minutes.
When time's up, heat the oven.

Baking:

Bake in a baking-paper covered sheet for about 30 minutes.
It is ready when it still has a little jelly-substance to it. Don't overdo it.
Bon appetit.
I bet you can't give me a recipe that is easier to make. Yet I hope you can, b/c this is actually the only cake I venture in these days (actually, it turned into weeks) of building chaos. Besides this oatmeal cookie, I make the bread we eat, but making bread has become sort of a hobby by now. If you follow the label 'recipes', you can check back to see how our daily bread is made.

on lions, chicken and mites

My husband overheard a conversation the other day. He was in an electric shop, when two men were having this little fantastic dialogue. I intentionally used distorted English to match their level of intelligence - hence are the strange words. This is one of my first time to play with grammar this way. Tell me if I was wrong in transforming the language.

----

Man1: Dude, there's a country in Africa, where lions walks upright, have clothes on and speak like we.

Man2: Nonsense. You telling me you believe it?

Man1. Curse I do. Av heard it over radio in the Jimmy and Johhny.

----

I think I am aware of the ultimate, inexhaustible, pure stupidity of mankind.

Yet each time I'm given a proof of it, I sigh. These people have just as much right to vote as I do. The sheer intelligence of this one single morning glory (below) outdoes the accumulated value of those of the people in the above conversation.

Well, chicken. As most of you probably know, we have a few chicken and we are renovating the house. Keeping animals is fun, educative for the children, relaxing to the tired, healthy for the body, lalala. Yet every now and then, diseases and pests might attack. I'd like to emphasize MIGHT. Can you imagine a time more suitable for an attack by chicken-mites than the middle of demolition? When we don't know which end of the track should we follow, when we spend almost all of our time breaking walls, cleaning and storing the bricks for further use, giving anti-fungus treatment to woods that will make the new ceiling, lalala...? We tried to kill those nasty bugs with burning a sulphur-band to no avial. They flooded the walls and laughed at our attemps in one of their many refuges. Finally we had to re-plaster the chicken house so as to deprive the mites from their hiding places. We re-furnished the inside of the house. We even made a new ladder (for chicks to sleep on). The fight against mites took 3 whole days and it's not yet oven. When all we have in the new part of the house is this:

Wish to come over for a breath of fresh air wouldn't you, hm? I think the English says: 'When it rains it pours'. We say 'Trouble has a company' - (literally it is 'trouble does not walk alone' - 'a baj nem jár egyedül')

During the mites' attack, we lost 2 baby chicken of the last hatching. Now there are only five. They are named: Gray Dino, Pancake, Gofri, Jumper and Floating island (the Turken one). I think the names request some explanation. Gray Dino has received its name after a character in a PC-game. Pancake is just so lovely and yellowish as a pancake, Gofri looks like Pancake, only it's legs are thinner, Jumper likes to jump and Floating island, well we all love the food and so do we the little buff Turken chick. In case you did not know, a Floating island is a delicious sweet food, and gofri resembles pancake. But I have already told you that above :)

Above are photos of a Floating Island and a Gofri and below, of the hen and her 5. When they graze outside, they seem to be present everywhere, but when it comes to photographing, they turn into a buddhist garden - you can never see each and every one of the bunch at the same time.

Allright, I'm back to work again...

spell peace

you don't have to search to find

love is there anyway

and when unexpected beauty advances

your soul is taken

you don't have to fight to accept

you are given

and when boundaries met

your body is taken

you don't have to die to live

within the smallest of things it is the biggest of all

and when tranquility comes along

your mind is taken

don't be afraid, child

petrified, the magic is lost

flowing, it keeps growing

be one and be all

an imaginary letter

Preface: this I wrote on 18th, revised, adjusted and supplied it with music and a self-made photo on 19th August. It was inspired by something that happened to me that day. If you care to read it and have constructive comments, suggestions as to the style, topic, whatever, please share it with me. I wrote this piece with love, but I'd also like to improve my writing style. Leave your comments in the comments section, or drop me an email. Thank you all!

Photo: 3 August 2007, by me.

My life, as it is now, ends today. Tomorrow I will be travelling through space to become someone else, like a spider, tumbling over the furrows of a lichen and moss-covered tree, or to become a tree with birds nesting amongst the braches, or I might become a man with machines.

I'm going away, but before I do, I'm taking a look back at my life. This is what we all do when the old goes away. Taking account to step over the barrier.

My birth was undisturbed, my coming into this world was welcomed. Although I had neither my father nor my mother beside me, those who surrounded me watched my growth with love and cared about my comfort. They kept talking about how small I was and how big I would become one day. They kept telling how very useful and great I would become. This I liked.

Years passed and I grew up in self-confidence. I was being loved and I loved the ones that loved me. I liked the smell of the meadow in the morning, around the house I lived near to, I adored the song of the birds in the evening and all the little insects around me in the garden.

I had friends to talk to. Whenever the wind came down from the little hillside, we gathered and kept talking endlessly.

Not only cared I for those who lived near me - as soon as I was able to peek above the fence I began watching those who were passing by. I watched them and sometimes, when they looked at me with respecting eyes, I smiled back. They usually did not notice my smile, perhaps I was too shy.

Later on, those who had cared about me died. I weeped for them as one weeps for his parents. I missed them, and I still do.

But soon, new ones came. One by one, they removed my friends. I was left alone.

Lately, these new ones have left too, and yet others came.

They have been with me in the past year or so - and the care and respect I gave meant nothing to them. They did not seemed to perceive. They neglected me, and when they thought I was not listening, have begun talking about me as unnecessary, as an obsticle.

I still had one friend, who lived, and still lives accross the street.

This is a farewell letter to her, because this very day, extremely noisy others arrived. They took off my head, shred my hair, tore off my fingers, ripped off my upper and lower arms. None of the pains I experienced during my life had been this painful. It was a torture and I suffered for long. With motionless faces, they split up my trunk. My heart, that they were unable to dig into, is still here as long as I compose this.

My heart weeps for the land I used to live in, for the sweet soil I used to taste, for the rainwater I used to drink. I can not breathe any more. Memories get mixed up with thoughts about the future.

My heart will soon stop, I feel that. Mutilated, detruncated, my parts lie scattered around me. My heart will stop and my soul will be rising. I'm leaving you now. God bless you.

Take a really close look #4

Hello everyone,

this is the fourth quiz in the series. I hope to present you with a more difficult question.

The third round of the what's-this-game was really, really easy.

There were 4 guesses, namely (in no particular order) by Em, Melly, Beth (who won the second game) and Wordnerd (thanks for dropping by!).

Everyone guessed it correctly, although Em (who won the first game) insisted on guessing for 'leaf' as well. I value his courage, but this time, it was simply a feather.

So, the winner is.... MELLY, who got the right answer FIRST. Thanks Melly, for taking part in this little game. And congratulations!!!

BTW, I do hope you all enjoy this. (Cause I do.)

And the 4th starts off right now : what is this?

I made this photo on 3 August, 2007.

UPDATE: if you wish to take a look at, or contribute to a very interesting debate on world culture, potential solutions, hate vs. love - don't miss Jason's latest post.

writing excercise

challenge proposed by The Church Lady over here.

My funny little entry is over here, right below:

Blue suedes

Finally I’m out of the shop. I love to see the world!

I was made made by a machine; I am not unique – yet anyone who looks at me likes me. The soft touch. The craftsmanship. I like to be beautiful. I am often called a beauty.

I was packed alone in a neat cardboard box. That was dark. Back in the factory, there were rumors about our destinations. Some said they’d go into a large shop, some’d have preferred a small, personal shop. For me, it was indifferent.

I was tried on a few times. I never knew how would it feel - that I would feel the smell of skin, the warmth, the tingling of veins, the small adjustments of muscle tone. Balance and imbalance. I was being walked in. I covered the distance: I carried a woman from one mirror to another, yet she was carrying me, too. It was the embrace of bodies.

Ladies kept coming in and going out. At first, I loved that almost anyone got a hook on me. These women adored me. I knew I would become a catcher. But with time I changed and I longed to become a keeper, too.

And I become one today. This lady was wearing a sparkling silvery band of metal on one of her left fingers. She lifted me up and smelled the blue and I knew she was mine and I was hers. And finally, I’m out of the shop. I’m with her. Forever.

********

The story ends here - but I won't let you go away without some music. The great KDLang's doing a country song written by Bruce Cockburn.

I'm still breathing

thanks for asking - I'm still breathing...tonnes of dust.

getting a life

I think I stopped being silently obsessive about something I have no access to. Thanks StrugglingWriter, Bernita and Jason, for their sympathy, encouragement, understanding and kind explanation and similar thoughts (S.W.)

I got so overly irritated and disturbed by the disillusionment I felt on Monday evening at a website I otherwise treat with respect and almost, adorement, that it affected my relationship with real-life people. Noone deserves it, neither does my relationship.

Allright, I am also troubled by the renovation of our house. Time has started to squeeze.

My life at the moment:

Currently I'm reading Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood.

Also I'm reading many blogs... :)

I'm writing, whenever I have time and inspiration, the short story I started in February.

As a paid job, I'm working on a translation of an essay on plant protection, it'as about 10 pages.

a small break

Dear All,

we have reached a phase in our home's reconstruction, where every moment counts.

We dismantle parts of the old house to let room for the new one. How interesting this concept is, isn't it?

It involves days of working, packing, unpacking, loading and unloading.

Lots of getting dirty, oily and tired. TIRED.

It will probably involve some days' absence on my part - with a due leave.

I will probably have time to check back once in a while, though.

I think will be back with winners' announcement on the 'what's this' contest' - until that, feel free to cast you guesses and tread 'the path' - poke up the archives, if that's what you feel like doing.

Take care, smile often ... and feel gratitude for the little things you have.

Update:

The writing contest has ended. None of the entries I liked made it into the winners and except one or two, those who did, ehm, were not my favourites. Never near to those I liked. I did have a hard time choosing my fives for the 'Readers' Choice award. My favourites were - in no particular order:

# 60

# 36

# 12

# 43

# 22

# 59

and also, I liked #45, #55, #69, #73, #66 and I could name like, five or six more that really captured my imagination. Most of those I picked as my favourites are peaceful, some of them are narrated by animals themselves. Some of them are about human relationships, some about natural elements, meditation, peaceful dying...all quiet and nice.

I like Jason's site b/c of similar reasons. His poems and photograhy are devoid of aggression, modern day technology, sick people, unnecessary nudity or harrassment of any kind. Clarity. Like the title itself suggests. Like a deep breath of night air after a humid day in the city. In short, I'm shocked. That's all.

To make things clear: I did take part, and my not winning has nothing to do with my rant. I am not a native speaker and my work is sometime lame, as someone pointed out, without further reasoning. If she's listening, she might add some, belated constructive comments...?

Again, my not winning is okay with me. Of course I don't write like native speakers. I took part, enjoyed it enormously, it really did inspire me all the way. I loved it and I will be always thankful for Jason and for the writing community.

It's the selection (both Jason's and readers') that puzzles me so.

If anyone is capable of giving me some explanation, other than 'you just would not understand', please shed some light into this darkness.

back

have I become unfaithful, wandering off
too far away?
or have I stayed all the while here, but
having let your voice and steps go beside?
having locked deep inside, admiring some else?
am I to perceive well that it was you all the time and ever again?
am I to give you a call?
am I the same or am I some else, who's looking for you again?
where I am?
for you are here and have never been elsewhere away....

when my fingers reach yours

I'm home

ascend

bend down if you wish to rise

reconnecting source

the trunk of the tree you travel on

the scent of pink you inhale

the rub on your fingertips

the dripping sound of earth on earth

blackened out you'll see the light

small as you are you reach the omnipresent

dissolved into pieces you're integrated

wrapped around

you crinkle within all

Take a really close look # 3

Dear all my existing (?!) and lurking visitors, this is the third time you are invited to play 'What's this' with me.

Last time we had a photo of something CHECK BACK to see the ORIGINAL PHOTO HERE.

We had as much as 9 players with 10 guesses. I was, as constantly am, amazed by the playfulness of the human race.

For most of you, including Em, the winner of the first game, the obvious answer was 'sponge'.

Unfortunately this is not the case.

I enjoyed the fantasy of the players who suggested ripped foam, two of you suggested bread of some sort - some specified the range to basil cornbread, even. One said it was scrambled eggs.

No, no, and no.

Only one answer came close enough.

Here's a photo of the same thing, seen from a bit further:

Correct answer: A piece of limestone.

Congratulations to Beth, who said 'porous rock' - which comes closest to reality.


Okay, move on.
Here comes our third picture. Same question. I do think it is really easy now.
A what?