Dear Monday

Well, Monday, here you are again—a start to the five days that lead to Sunday. I’ve gotten used to you. I don’t dread you any longer. I try to find the joy in you and your other six brothers and sisters. Today, though, dear Monday, I’d like to have an extra day—just one more. I know this isn’t possible and that I must begin motivating myself to get out the door.

These past few days, weeks, months, I’ve jotted down little something’s in my private notebooks and journals, both of the paper variety and the electronic. I’ve had ideas come to me, things that I want to write about. I have starts—that’s a step in the right direction. All the little bits and scraps, though, have added up to so many directions and pieces that it becomes a challenge to decide where I want to go or if what’s there is enough.

And sometimes, like a record that skips and stays in the same spot for a time, that’s where I find myself. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, really. I know that when it’s time the lever will be jiggled and the skipping and repeating will subside. It’s just that I’m aware of it and being aware of it brings a sense of self-consciousness. At the same time, writing it out here, will release me for the time being; it may even cause more self-consciousness. It’s all part of the process—that is one of my mantras—and I can’t help coming back to it over and over again.

It rained last night, Monday, while I was sleeping. It rained and rained until this morning; and right now, I can see the sun bursting through the back window. It’s tempting me to come outside, to smell the freshness that rain brings. I suppose this morning, Monday, I would like to stay cuddled up with a book, write some more, drink some tea because I’ve had my fill of coffee for the morning. I would like to know what I’m preparing for dinner and I have something in mind, but nothing concrete, nothing that jazzes me, that beckons me into the mindset of wanting to be in kitchen. I want the kitchen to grab me, twirl me around and make me dizzy with joy.

Well, Monday, thanks for listening. It’s time for me to go to work now. It will be a fine day.

Miraculous
Outside
New
Dazzling
Alfresco
Yummy

Monday, Let’s go have a Yummy Day!

Little Morsels

Fried chicken
mashed potatoes
brown gravy
collard greens.
Best fried chicken;
not the best collard greens.
Holy shit burger.
Cozy celebration.


Dried chilies and
tomatillos
blended
into a delicious
salsa for adding
to everything.
Finally,
learned tips and
proper technique.


Latin Culture festival;
bodies moved to the
groove. A lot of heat
On those streets!

**

Winky. Sounds like Slinky. The name Winky appeared to me. It could be after reading a flash fiction story by Lydia Davis called “The Mice.” I can’t get the name out of my head: Winky, Winky, Winky!

Had a productive writer’s group meeting this past weekend. Received helpful feedback to take back to the simmering pot. I will let that story rest a while and try to work on a new piece for next time.

Class is going fine. Small steps. Need to keep the reading rhythm going for the short stories in the huge anthology. I keep reading the other book, The Scene Book: A Primer for the Fiction Writer by Sandra Scofield, not only with an eye for my work, but for the writing I comment on in the group. So far the book reminds me of the elements that we started to learn in the scriptwriting course, the focus being on the scene and beats of action.

Downloaded an audio book on writing—an older book. So far, I’m enjoying it a lot. I have a feeling after I listen to the audio, I will be buying a paper copy of the book. The library didn’t have a copy. The audio book is Stein on Writing: A Master Editor Shares His Craft, Techniques, and Strategies by Sol Stein.

**

I wanted to show up on the page this morning, knowing that I couldn’t stay as long as I would have liked. I can’t stand fingernails. Mine are starting to become noticeable. I always cut them right down to the skin. I’m noticing that they are getting in my way on the keyboard. Small things like that get in the way.

I’ve had some very odd sensual and strange dreams the other night. I jotted down a few in my notebook for another day. I need to remember more of my dreams. I still have a few powerful dreams from a long time ago that still come up, one in particular that I’d like to turn into a story if it chooses to allow me to do so.

**

Work
Procrastination,
a sack of bricks
on this
Monday.

Ah, Monday’s not so
Bad.

Here we go.

Clunk…clunk…clang.

Monday

Sunday, will you stay a little longer?
Molasses inches out thick and
slow like a snail 
nibbling on a leaf.

Monday

There’s a slow feeling to this Monday morning. The fog has shown up in full cloak to cut the heat of the past few weeks—the heat that felt like big blocks of stifled air, yet I started to get used to it—the feel of my own breath being pulled into the hot vacuum of Summer.

**

Miraculous

O

O

N

Divine

Angelic

Y