Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

November 16, 2018, 09:43:48 AM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti

Saturday-Homesick



Word of the Day
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1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Desk on: November 15, 2018, 06:39:29 PM
I push at the drawer but it wonít go in any further. It used to but now as I sit on my wheeled desk chair, the more I push it pushes back. Iím almost falling over how can it change like that itís collapsing on itself internal forces like a modern art sculpture and every opposing force and impossible angle is represented and a smooth drawer action isnít the winner. I give it a few last pushes hear the rattle of the chair wheels like chains or stirrups on the well oiled beads and dirty carpet. The sunlight filters through the window at a steep angle and in the backyard echoes are heard from people conversing and someone wheeling a cart across the uneven asphalt. The rain puddles and moisture are still on the ground and I walk through the gate out into the street and the Brooklyn sun hangs low and benevolent over low houses. The smell of jerk chicken and the many faces and I swerve in and out and the car in front of me has been for the last two laps but Iím right on his tail and Iím clenching the wheel tightly with my gloved hands my white helmet fits snugly and everything creaks and groans in reassuring ways I tighten my abs and loosen my shoulders as we come to the turn and I slip out from his wake in an explosion and push for the inside. There isnít space but I make it. Heís surprised and doesnít react fast enough and now Iím pushing him out and suddenly the pressure is gone and he disappears as from a parachute opening into the grass and I follow as the vacuum was totally unexpected and weíre on the grass and some bales of hay are there to cushion any blow but we just correct and make for the track weíre both behind now but it was a cool moment. I catch his eye for a brief moment and weíre back. Iím in the lead now heís a little rattled I think. Angry hornets pursue me as I floor it
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Fox on: November 15, 2018, 06:27:00 AM
I hear a loud bang and itís early in the morning. I get up and my feet touch the floor. Sleep seems to wash off of me like water by the minute and soon Iím fully awake. The wooden floor is comfortable to the touch with broad planks and the door is bent a little so it sort of springs into the room as I press the handle. Then the corridor. A long black hole but in the dark I can see just enough. I feel carefully ahead of me with my bare feet and soon Iím in the kitchen. I start making coffee. I put the coffee maker on the gas stove and I like the smell of the gas and the hollow sound it makes as the blue flame is lit. I stretch and in the ether an email is being rejected again and again by a server. The still air crackles with electrons and protons an attempt at order in the chaos attempt at an arrangement of energy to form meaning. The sun wonít get up for another hour. The gigantic bodies move at incredible speed through the void and every moment the sun casts its rays over fresh land and abandons other territories. Oblivious to the processes it starts. Cliffs and oceans a wave crests itís moving towards the shore in darkness and sudden the sunís rays hits the crest and the empty beach is hit seconds later and the air is rustled and roused eddies and turbulent enigmatic little stories
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Roller Coaster on: November 13, 2018, 04:18:46 PM
Funny and physical. Well done! Thanks for sharing.
C
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Roller coaster on: November 13, 2018, 04:15:30 PM
The creaking wooden construction is covered with what looks like paper m‚chť to suggest rocks and to a child the protrusions were daunting and mysterious and I entered the black hole and the sound was different in the little corridor full of voices of mostly kids and girls with high pitched voices and the rumble of the wheels on the tracks. The turns switch our collective body fluids around and create ticklish sensations in the body. The liver being flushed one way then another like a boulder on a beach the water washing first one way then another. The gentle delicate tissues holding up to the abuse knowing things will calm down and Iím feeling thirsty the mouth dry and wanting the sensation of cool liquid rolling over the arid flesh like seaweeds searching for contact as fish are gently caressing and being caressed their expressionless eyes hiding some sensations of desire want and destiny they let themselves be cleaned by this underwater car wash and one is bright red with white and black stripes and a shark is nearby like a distant reminder of instant death in giant jaws and her teeth are huge and so much has passed over them saltwater by the hundreds of gallons and the water is forever being mixed and passed around between the different oceans and very very little ends up in living organisms most water probably never interacts with animals it just lives in the world of other water and perhaps rocks we are tiny points in a huge canvas filled with majestic and slowly but forever changing features and the dry lake bed is beckoning come crunch my stiff sandy shell and release the soft
powder underneath and the tires and heavily advancing crushing and compressing and a large boulder hidden by the featureless yellow ocean lies i
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Comb on: November 12, 2018, 02:53:09 PM
A brightly colored yellow comb not too big just the right size I lift it to my head and pull it through my brown mane. Each strand of hair meets the force of the comb and is reoriented like a squiggly iPhone holder. Try reorienting one of your fingers like that. The hair is so flexible sticking out like trees in a forest and seen from above the forest is an unbroken green canopy. Listening from this vantage point besides the wind you hear the birds and sometimes larger animals. Itís a world of parts playing together the air is still and clear and I slowly dive down through the canopy and the upper branches greet me in stoic quiet salute. Leaves are soft and the branches sort of prickly but yielding and the bark is smooth. Further down the branches get bigger and the bark more complex and abrasive. The bark is streaked with large channels between strands and these layers like mille-feuille dough is hard and here a woodpecker sits and is carving out a home for her family. She strikes the surface of the wood and penetrates the bark sending splinters everywhere. She recharges with incredible speed and makes a loud woody toc toc toc sound as she does
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Key on: November 08, 2018, 05:18:24 AM
The new key is gleaming. It has a lollipop colored round part. A translucent green which makes my eyes dreamy as i focus on it. Compared to the dull metallic and brown keys previously available it seemed space age had arrived. A key covered entirely in red or green or any of dozens of other colors were also available but when the paint inevitably wore off they looked horrible like worn out robots with hollow metallic eyes. The keys made me feel I belonged and like an adult and nothing was more important when I was 8. Taking the key out and inserting it. The key pushes aside the little pins and chunk chunk chunk it penetrates further and further until itís completely inside. Then the oiled turn and the lock sometimes with a larger chunk disengages. There were older keys too and these seem like a pirate might use them to lock a chest of treasure and Tintin might travel the world to find it. And the keycard opens the hotel room and the green light fleeting hurry push down the handle and it sounds like a car door so complex and the door is heavy and emits a whoosh as it glides over the perfumed carpet and the room is like a space shuttle completely organized and Iím sitting in the capsule goodbye earth my spacesuit is white and high tech and I feel like Iíve never felt before Iím sitting facing the sky with
My fellow astronauts and weíre about to take the mars voyage the first manned mission to Mars. Mission the word fills me with resolve and daring. Space mission is ten times better than a military mission itís about exploration for the benefit of all and Iím probably never coming back I leave everything behind but I must see what itís like out there later I eat space food and it tastes bland but we have every kind of music and movie available and one day the tiny red dot becomes visible and grows larger by the day and a giant red bal
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Coffee on: November 07, 2018, 04:53:30 AM
The steam rises from the cup and wafts into my head. Itís like it erases doubt and tiredness. It makes me think of resolve like that feeling you get at the top of a roller coaster. Okay here we go. Itíll be all right. A mushroom is pushing out of the ground and itís like you can watch it grow itís so fast. Itís a tiny bald spot in the sand in the evening and the next day itís already poking its head out. I like to think about this unbeatable life force a force that coffee releases in me. I stand at the top of the diving tower itís a long way down and the water is calm. Iím alone save for the lifeguard and after looking intensely at the water for a long time my heart beating my breath shallow I take the leap. I turn too much in the air and hit the water with a loud splash. I plunge into the foamy depth and I lose my sense of direction and lie there completely still for a spell then I slowly make my way to the surface like a beaten egg. When I breach the surface I see the lifeguard watching me. She was afraid too. The water stings my nose and I feel as if it comes all the way into my head like the chlorine fumes penetrate every little blood vessel. The first time I cut myself. Watching in amazement as the skin breaches and all sound seems to vanish as a large drop of viscous fluid emerges and then it starts to run. A raging river is incredibly loud itís like a continuous roar of thunder and the mist seems to stand around it for a long distance I feel the mist enter every orifice on my face and it looks like a planned and constructed fountain of the romantic kind. As a kid I loved to visit the Gefion fountain huge chariots and sea snakes seemed to come out of the ground. My parents knew I loved it and took me often. Especially in the late afternoon as the sun was setting I could stand and watch it for a long time the sound was deafening to my childrenís ears and the chariots with Nordic gods in them seemed so powerful and really got my imagination going there were swords and perhaps some women
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / LA on: November 06, 2018, 06:37:54 AM
Im standing at the bus stop waiting to get on. A multitude of sounds. A family of seven with rattling suitcases and I see the web of cellophane wrap and the children some seeming eager and excited and some subdued. The parents nervous but trying to hide it casting glances back and forth in silent morse code. Reassuring questioning reaffirming. The smell of diesel like the scent of a strange and foreign flower. The door opens with a guffaw hesitatingly and I put my foot on the wet bottom step of the steep ladder. Itís got a striated rubber mat. I mount, my guitar unwieldy like a large pet. Silent and intensely present. I reach the summit of the steps and the floor stretches before me dark grey with a long collection of black streaks like ore in granite. Like a rich metal could be mined from the linoleum. Most seats are taken and I cast searching glances my eyes trying to find an opening nobody pays any attention to me except a woman who smiles knowingly and she makes room for me. She wears a strong perfume and seems out of place here. She emits a powerful calming presence like a saint. Unmoving conviction a complete certainty. Sheís clad in black and I see the sun setting through the greasy window. The engineís uneven rattle like a giant cobraís last minutes on earth. I smile gratefully at my benefactor and with the large guitar case between my legs I sit down. She looks at me smilingly and asks where Iím going as if she knows the answer and knows that I know. She expects me to move beyond the where and tell her what I expect to find there. In LA. I tell her Iíve written some songs and want to write more. That it just started pouring out me me and that LA seems the place to take it to and find more peopl
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Radiator on: November 04, 2018, 04:16:23 PM
The radiator is painted white and its cast iron tubes stick out of the raw wooden floorboards like submarine periscopes. The heavy leaved structure clunks and emits a comforting hissing sound which means warmth is on its way. Itís cold and a bit damp in the apartment and Iím wearing slippers but the wooden floor never gets really cold. My body and this white alien are so different. And the submarine surfaces with an explosion of foam and water washes over its black body and the grey water stretches forever to all sides but this little dot breaks the fluid surface and stands as an opposing will a minority report and the rulings of the Supreme Court although weighty will sometimes have the minority onionon which can serve as a reminder that individuals stand behind unpopular ideas sometimes. Judges in black robes lie in bed writing these while their wives and children are sound asleep and somewhere a baker wakes up the warm glow of his alarm clock reads 2.30 am and he makes coffee after finishing his object writing of course and starts his van and sets off to make delicious bagels and croissants. Soon the bakery is filled with the incredible pastry smells and the black iron plates come piping hot out of the oven some bagels at the corners are darker but not burnt the dough has set in a conplex web of intercalated dough molecules and the baker takes a phone call from his pregnant sister and he promises to save her a dozen for her mothers group which meets this morning. She organizes the meetups and they discuss various topics regarding whatís coming. The first time mothers have more questions and the others have more answers and they get to live through the excitement and trepidations of that first time itís an ordeal something to remember but so vast and at the same time so common itís been
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Umbrella on: November 04, 2018, 03:57:11 PM
The little girl is wearing red rubber boots a red rain hat a red rain coat and a red umbrella. She shines like a red mushroom. As a kid I collected these mushrooms in the woods. They are poisonous but I just loved the color and when it rained they came out in droves. The feeling of pinching the stalk between the fingers and pulling it out of the ground. A sort of hollow rumble makes you think the whole surrounding soil is affected. And it abruptly stops as you pull the mushroom free of the ground. The stalk and lamellae are intense white almost bleach like my memory. I let my fingers run over the lamellae. I smell the peculiar smell of mustiness but also life force a certain taut energetic smell. I fill a woven basket with my catch and lay it out on display on the terrace. The wind is moving the treetops but near the ground itís completely quiet. I go
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Fish on: November 03, 2018, 08:39:45 AM
Iím swimming in the open sea and I see a large school of orange fish and I see the smooth scales that glimmer in the light and I take a stroke with my arm and I feel the water moving through my fingers. I feel the muscles engaging and I drive my body forward in the salty water. At the surface the clucking of the small waves around me and the larger swells are like enormous hills and a large hill covered with snow and beyond it a steep grey rock face covered with snow at the top. Iím climbing the sheer face and my feet find resting places and foot holds and I take a step up and lock in my toes and then step on it and I feel my powerful thigh muscles engaging and I watch the rock gliding by as Iím transported slowly up and then my hand finds and good hold and I look at the rock so close to my face there are tiny streaks of brown and a golden yellow and the ripples of the rock pointy in places and very smooth in others and Iím lying on a large slab with long streaks of color and the rock is warm from being baked all day in the sun and I hear the clicking of hikerís poles and the wind is rustling   The air passes gently over my face and also over the rock like a question and the rock looks like itís never changing and unyielding but it is a conversation with the wind and sometimes with the rain and slowly over time the rock yields it demands patience but the wind and the rain has it and over time the slab is washed away except for a hard center like a spire of a minaret in Turkey and itís the morning prayer and thereís nothing quite like the simmering morning air and the call to prayer from loudspeakers all over and people gather in the mosques and the bazaars and shops open the air is filled with smells foreign to my nose se and words foreign to my ears and I feel like Iím at the center of my life like Iím moving. The spices smell powerfully and an old man raises his hands to me with handfuls of an orange powder and his nails are long and smooth his hands are brown and weathered the skin like a buffalo at the watering hole. And the animals gather here the water is still and itís dusk and the zebra
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Leaves on: November 01, 2018, 03:32:55 PM
The fall leaves are brown in many shades and wet because of the unending fall downpours  a continuous stream of liquid raining down and making the earth muddy and waking up every worm and seed down below. The ground literally swells with it and the fall leaves become soggy like Charlie Browns cornflakes and Iím wearing my blue rubber boots with white edges. I like them even though theyíre not flashy. And my grandparents and I are walking towards the zoological museum and the air is misty and itís really quiet itís Sunday and I love these afternoons with them. I guess my parents loved the free time as well never occurred to me before. I can see them just laughing with relief splattered out on the couch doing nothing for a change. Anyway. Thereís a playground on the way to the museum and the ground is yellow gravel and itís deserted and my grandparents watch as I play for a bit. Iím a little too old for what they have there but I still engage it feels good and then we enter they pay and we go watch the low tech installations and the whole place is kind of quiet and almost subdued in that Scandinavian way and one of the panoramas is a stork of some kind and itís a stuffed animal with a cardboard background and some grass and marshy stuff in front for perspective and you push a button and thereís bird sounds coming out of a little speaker and you actually go for it. I mean this is what that bird sounded like before it got stuffed. Now the sound is disembodied literally where before it was one so that we can see and hear. How strange this petrification. I guess itís a lot of work to go see them in the wild and if we all did they wouldnít have any peace. So one of them gives its life so 1000s can live in peace. Something like that. Usually afterwards we go back to the car and then thereís cake and hot cocoa. The misty air and the silent muffled playground stay with me all day and I remember taking this trip often but maybe it was only a few times and my granddad liked toast and heíd be in his dressing gown over a blue pajamas and buttering his toast and ine
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Undefined on: October 31, 2018, 10:57:41 PM
The chalkboard is green with what seems like a glass coating. My math teacher is lean and tall and wearing an outdated shirt a thin styled beard and jeans. Heís a bike rider and very fit. And he says he wants to define an equation etc for us and he draws some symbols on the board the chalkboard such a common sound of my teenage years quap quap krrrrr dick dick rrrrrr. And now he says we can draw a graph of this function and itís really cool because it takes me to space. These numbers are like a line in space a curving snake of truth like Moses was sitting in the back of math class in a white robe saying it shall be so and the function made of yellow chalk snakes through empty space and it comes alive and my math teacher stands in wonder but also he knows the story and the whole class is watching as his words and the mathematical truth comes alive and weíre all incredibly floating around in space and he gets to explain everything so effortlessly now and with such impact if I love how he throws around hexagons polynomiums and equations and they become 3 d objects immediately and once weíre back in class and our seats creak and scuffle slightly thereís a bit of snow itís winter and thereís six inches outside but itís warm in here itís the big secret a consecrated time in space where this learning of this material takes place. If you spent the night preparing for it it can change your life. Me Iím just trying to get through it and all these years later is see the value. Value like if you buy one Iíll give you three for free. Thatís value and it starts in the conveyor belt where RAM chips are made and gradually robots add more and more components and I think about the terminator itís clean in here and clinical almost but at the end you have a computer and back in math class well thatís what made the computer possible and Iím sitting there thinking about it I become dizzy with the possibilities being sucked into another universe made from math and I feel like Iím diving into a pool surrounded by amazing facts that have shapes and sizes and different colors
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Bow tie on: October 30, 2018, 12:54:21 PM
The clip on bow tie is soft and fuzzy and seems to comically contrast the helplessness of his body. It bends and even rotates but itís fine people love him. Drool makes its way down his chin and his infant smooth skin emits a soft and unique smell. I watch you and I touch your tufts of hair and I see myself as a newborn I want to experience it again hurdle back through time and my stomach churns from the time warp as if Iím on a roller coaster that creaks and groans. Itís been here for more than 100 years so itís unlikely itíll break down but you canít be blamed for having the thought and now my brother is with me and weíre pushing his son on somethingís flawertime is never just like you see and I hold my fork loosely and really watch it this is among the more common objects a little cool to the touch and a funny striated nesting theme on the handle. Itís full of curry it smells delicious I go nearer the pot and Iím m met with the thick aroma of reduced tomatoes a little prickly in the air and Iím sitting uneasily in an airplane looking at the jet engine outside. I donít really believe those round things are holding us aloft. Like my uncles magic tricks. One day somebody will tell me yeah he holds it in the back of his hand and you fell for it. My glasses creak structurally like a scaffold holding Mount Rushmore and with pentup elastic powers
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Star on: October 29, 2018, 10:52:37 PM
Itís paper behind a cardboard cover and Iíve just opened the little cardboard door for December 4th and it was well hidden and searching for it I was sucked into the painting of magical Christmas activities with a lot of dark blue sky with little yellow stars and lots of lights and happy people performing Christmas relevant activities. I get excited and also peaceful and just happy as I open the perforated door and find the drawing of a snowman or something like that. It seems silly now but I loved this daily activity. The minute I wake up I jump out of bed and find the calendar and pry open todayís door. Itís a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach and the wood of the floor feels cold but all it does is energize me further. The room is still dark save for a little bedside lamp and Iím driving on Flanders drive at six pm and the sun is setting its explosive I see the grime on the windscreen like washed up waves from a shipwreck and the sun is barreling into my eyes itís so low that thereís no hiding I shield my eyes leaving just enough space to see the road in front of me. The sun touches not just me but things in front and behind and some rays are reflected back so people who had their back to the setting disc will still be blinded by its reflection in my dirty windshield. My foot pushes gently on the pedal and the smelly gasoline is Injected smoothly into the chamber where it ignites in a violent explosion and pushes the piston and this happens so frequently I experience it as a gentle hum and Sting once sat in a car and thought just that thought and his wry smile and heís thinking about a song the next song it never ends they just keep coming year after many years. Last nights show was good anything that could be better? Is it too tacky to break Roxanne up this way. ę The engines gently humming Ľ yes thatís good and itís a desolate landscape after some sort of disaster
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