Discover more from Thursday!
Thursday! The E-Zine for October 4, 2023
Three poems this week, and one story. I’m very nearly out of stories I’ve written before that only need a little bit of attention from the Endust can and the trusty dust rag. What remains, save perhaps one or two more, is the treacherous muck at the bottom of the story well, stuff I don’t really want to dig up for you because it’s simply not good enough1.
I do have a couple stories still in Draft Limbo2 I’d like to re-visit…or visit…or discover. Honestly, they’ve been there so long I’ve forgotten a lot about them, including exactly how many I have. Could be two or three or maybe seven or eight! We won’t know until I get in there and start rooting around. Or, you know, open that particular folder in my Google Drive. Heck, if I can get my time management stuff together, I might even get one of them ready in time for the next e-zine3!
By the way, when I say “three poems and one story”, I’m not downing my poems. These are good poems! I think you’ll like them. There’s a good mix of goofy and thoughtful and “pouty because I wrote it on a crappy morning while sitting by myself in an office trailer I’ve come to hate over the past several years and I wasn’t feeling great about myself and my prospects”. I might even read a couple of them for next week’s newsletter.
But I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. I’ve a few things to get done this week, the most important of which involves figuring out a good way to manage my own time so I can get things done in a more satisfying and less chaotic fashion. I don’t have a good system yet4, but I’ve a couple I’m willing to try. We shall see.
Okay. Read on! Don’t forget to share Thursday! if you like Thursday!, pretty please!
The peek-a-boo moon hides Behind gnarled knuckles of cloud. Its ancient gray face shines With delight of being found.
On a Close and Cloudy Wednesday Morning in October
The clouds are grey. It’s been that way Since every day forever. The cheerful sun has gone and run. Left everyone wherever. The sky sags down, touches the ground, A sullen crown that never Shines with glory, nor shares a story Laudatory. Can displeasure Of leaden days, and shared malaise Merge all our ways together?
A Storm Broke Over My House Today
A storm broke over my house today. No, I mean that literally. A thundercloud shattered, battered by an Olympian fist. Pieces fell all over my front yard Little chunks of cloud, stuffed and soggy. Angry shards of lightning, spitting sparks. Pops of thunder, stuttering and exploding. I picked up a shard of lightning. A tag hung from the back. A note. My name, written in Greek And glitter. It read: Just a little gift. I still think about you. Love, Z. I know who sent the storm, of course And who broke it. He sent me a flying horse last week. And some golden apples last month. The apples made quite a popular pie But the horse is a bit Of a nuisance.
(Photo Credit: DerTobiSturmjagd on Pixabay)
My dream is to support my family with my art. Can such a thing be done? Yes! But I need your help. How? I’m glad you asked!
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Monologue from an Alley
Of course she was a fairy! You think I’d be like this if she was some little girl with a wand? No freaking way. And before you ask, yeah the wand had a star. I ain’t new to this. Oh what, man!? That was not my fault! When a little girl pops out and all you can see is immortal madness in her eyes, what do you do? When she pulls a wand out of her belt and gives it that little flip — you know how they do — and it makes that chime that sounds like someone hit the whole Earth with a mallet, except nothing moves? Feels like a shotgun cocking behind your right ear, except that crazy-smile fairy and her wand won’t kill you all at once. So, yeah. I gave her every single diamond. Damn right I did. She gasped when I poured them into the little pouch she made of her dress and said “Pretty”. Oh, God. Her voice. Thin and high, like the wind before a blizzard. And those ice-blue eyes. I thought my heart was going to explode and I’m not sure whether I was in love or terrified. Probably both. I stepped back — must have because she gave me a curtsey from five feet away. I blinked and she was gone. So you go tell Icepick Mick whatever you want. His diamonds are gone. He can be mad as he wants. It won’t get his treasure back from the Frozen Queen. Believe that.
I’m not judging myself harshly here. I promise! Truly, I’ve written more than a few things that just weren’t all that good as stories but served me pretty well as learning experiences or creative experiments.
Sadly, this is not the process by which professional sports teams decide how to pick their new players. It should be, though. I’d watch it.
Oh ho ho ho! Look who’s getting all ambitious and setting goals and raising expectations!
Believe me, I’ve tried more than one!