Tuesday
Aug142018
The Language Company
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Entries in kindle (7)
Tuesday
Apr102018
The Language Company
The Language Company on sale promotion April 10-17 with Kindle Direct Press (KDP). Cool.
Learn. Play. Share.
Reading is power.
Meanwhile...
See with soft eyes
Gratitude
No mistakes in life art - happy accidents
Ink dances
Reveals point line shadow
Watercolor pencils
Creativity has no rules
Take a line for a walk
Create like a god, order like a king, work like a slave
Work like you don't need the money
Love like your heart's never been broken
Dance like nobody's looking
I am a short story
You are a novel
Sunday
Mar262017
Weaving A Life (Volume 1)
He has published Weaving A Life (Volume 1) on Amazon.
It is a collection of his writing blending memoir, creative nonfiction, journalism, history, culture and stories.
It is free on Kindle and e-readers until 29 March.
You can find it here.
Enjoy the ride. You're on it once upon a time.
Saturday
Oct172015
Ambivalent - TLC 48
Bursa residents heard, “Woo, woo,” and clip-clop hooves grooving asphalt. A thin Turkish man who’d escaped the Armenian genocide in 1914 by hiding in a mountain cave with Plato’s shadow of illusions hovering over his form commanded a rolling wagon filled with shredded silver wire. A black trash bag on the rear contained cardboard and a draft of The Language Company.
He snapped a long whip at a white horse wearing brown blinders. Red, green, yellow and blue wool tassel tufts waved from its sweat beaded neck. Small copper bells tinkled.
His wife’s hungry face was a skeleton of bones. Her senses were accustomed to roots, soil, inhaling damp earth smells and back breaking labor in spring rain, summer heat, cool autumn winds and frozen earth.
Riding next to her husband hearing leather lash skin felt good. A reassuring signal snapped air. The horse pranced along cool be-bop jazz cobblestones in time with Monk on piano, Pastorius on bass, Rollins blowing his horn, Hart pounding percussion and Zeynep's cello complementing the steady clip-clop rhythm.
They were richer than a poor parent’s skin. They owned their stomach’s hunger.
“Here we go,” they sang in Kurdish.
A cafe below the TLC teachers’ apartment went broke. A wild garden blossomed. One May day an old man arrived with his scythe. His well-adjusted eyes surveyed nature's vociferous beauty. He unwrapped a golden yellow scarf from the curving blade of his hand-me-down tool.
The scythe was eight feet long tapering to a sharp point. Sitting on a wooden stool he refined an edge with wet-stone strokes.
Waving, he cut a waving garden.
Death watched. Ambivalent.
A blue monarch butterfly probing nectar of the gods whispered turquoise wing secrets to a red hibiscus in Laos.
Wednesday
Oct142015
scrub dead skin in laos
On a Sunday in Vientiane he finished another revision of A Century is Nothing.
He thought to retitle it Omar the Blind. It will see another edit. Another polishing.
A 2nd edition was published in the fall 2012.
Now he will let it sit still. He's tired of it. He's been consistent with it every morning, afternoons. Ding the work. Polishing is the party.
He feels good about the process.
He rode his mountain bike after spraying oil on sprocket and chain.
He rode slow. He discovered a woman with her plastic box sitting in the shade doing nails on a quiet side street.
He gestured scraping souls. She smiled and finished another woman. He soaked feet and hands in water. She scrubbed off dead skin.
It reminded him of murdering his manuscript darlings. She trimmed cuticles and skin with a small silver tool. She showed him Timothy Michael Leonard.
She wrote him into her story and he wrote her into his.
They're are mutually inconclusive.
Love is unconditional.
