Counting down the days (or: Eleven)

Through sun-limned blinds, green leaves shimmer against the blue. The mass of bubbling childhood orbiting me seethes. Soon come, hometime.

Have Pride, dammit!

So this morning, a friend of mine posted this article, and when I read the article, I thought it was so absurd I had to read the deck. Which was so absurd I had to read the lede. Which was so absurd... you get the picture. 

http://www.xtra.ca/public/Toronto/Rainbows_banned_at_Mississauga_Catholic_school-10262.aspx

It made me angry, and I got angrier as the article continued. What gives them the right, really?

Anyway, this is for those students.

Close doors, throw stones. A porch is a pulpit,stigmata proclaim my pride. I won't be silenced; my name is written. The book speaks for itself.

Les souris dansent (or: When the cat is away...)

This week, I wanted to try something with a more uplifting feeling. I started with some bubbly, cute ideas (which I still may keep for later), but as it happened, partway through my idea-generating process, I put on headphones and iTunes to block out outside distractions, and a couple of my favourite songs songs came on. As I tried to resist the urge to bop in my chair rather than write a story, I realized that some of my favourite things are music and dancing. But sometimes I find it hard to dance "genuinely" with people around, unless I'm in a club full of others e who are, similarly, dancing their hearts out -- which doesn't come together as often as I'd like.

When it does though, I'm in heaven, and if that isn't uplifting, well, I dunno.

On rare occasions, you dine out. I blast 90bpm in the living room. No mirrors, no eyes. Euphoria. When no one's watching, I am Sasha Fierce.

The pool of Narcissus

Inspired by a tweet in the Twitter feed #50thingsihate, this one relates an experience I often have on the bus or the subway -- a sense of irritation when people display sour and disapproving reactions to another patron's awkwardness or oblviousness, followed by the guilty prickle of irony.

Self-righteousness

Fed up with these pious egotists – all disapproval whenever someone steps out of line. Who are you to judge? I shake my head. The temerity. 

Twitterrific

Here it is, my first twitterable story. The hardest part was, predictably, getting it down from very short through even shorter to very very short. It's no six words, but for now, it's short enough for me. I'd love your feedback.

As our eyes meet I know – I'd do anything for you. At her scream, your face crumples. I lay you back in your pram, and I return to browsing.