Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

July 20, 2019, 03:58:44 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 / Flag on: July 04, 2019, 04:49:03 PM
The flag of Mexico waved very strong on that highway, from the taxi I could see it, it was impossible not to see it ... although the taxi was driving fast, it was impossible not to see it. One on my right side, up on the pole, the other on my left side, in the middle of the Chapultepec forest. The immense green mass of trees and that flag waving in the middle. The other day It was not in the square, the cold and dry brown concrete seemed to miss it. Still we could see the cathedral, standing like an elegant old lady. Someone was flying a multi-colored kite, it had the shape of an icarus. Its fabrics also played with the wind, making that characteristic sound. Then - Watch out! - That man shouted, the white thread came like an arrow directly to us.
I remember when I practiced Kitesurfing on the beaches of Venezuela, you could feel the constant wind like a motor running, although the water was so brown that it could be confused with the sand, only that you could see small white waves formed on the surface by the amount of breeze shaping them. If you were in the cabin, you had to pull that little wooden door with great strenght, it looked more like a sheet of cardboard. It could barely hold itself with the hinges on the wall. If you let go, the door hit the frame hard, pushed by the wind... you felt that all that was going to disarm at any minute. They were cabins made for kitesurfers, who were not interested in tourism in the least. They just wanted to be carried by the wind on the water, to be one of those colored spots carried by a huge comet, to ride on the flying idea of ​​freedom, with a strong taste of salt in the mouth, the burning in the eyes, the blue horizon in the gaze, forgetting the world and its screams, presidents on a television screen, dressed in formal suits, often wearing hypocrisy, as smelly as a container overflowing with garbage. Sad but true. Sometimes we go as people but we end up being flies in the middle of a giant pile of shit.
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Calendar on: June 19, 2019, 03:52:36 PM
the calendar was big, white... it was stuck to the kitchen wall, next to the clock... normally at breakfast I only heard the metal cutlery sticking from the porcelain plates, my mom walked all over the kitchen preparing breakfast for us... I loved the cold Nesquik, the taste of frozen chocolate and the hundreds of ice cubes at that time, it was great.... the foam that was made in the blender also froze, its texture came to resemble a surfboard, spongy but hard, broke like a cookie, ... my sister almost always spilled the coffee with milk on the table, everything was stuck and my mother shouted "again?!!!!" ... but immediately cleaned it.  The drops fell to the floor and it was necessary to clean there too.  They were my school days, I could be about 8 or 9 years old... every day we had breakfast together... my mom would ring the golden bell that was hanging on the front door of the house to let us know that breakfast was ready, although the smell of toast and the noise of the blender coming into the room, warned us.... the white chemise scraped my arms, I never understood why to make the chemises so uncomfortable ... instead the sweater was spongy, soft, ... I always used it no matter how hot it was, although the sun took time to come out ...
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / When we went behind the gym... / balance beam on: June 11, 2019, 03:42:03 PM
When we went behind the gym at The Gray Angel School, looking to confirm the chemistry lab mystery, at the afternoon most of the students were gone ... all quiet, in the soccer field sometimes there were people playing, you heard the ball hit the wall, the shouts at the distance "me, me", ... we went silently behind the fence, walking on the grass, and from there we assumed that someone could see ... there was a white statue of the Virgin, it was always full of mold, it was of ceramics on a pedestal, ... we crushed the dry leaves and creaked, we looked for silence still ... in the background and one could see the graffiti brick wall, where Sometimes there were high school kids kissing, it was the point ... the floor was white granite, it was always cold ... you put your hands there and besides the cold in your hands, you could feel the dirty, the sand how it sticks in the palm of your hand ... the halls of the laboratories were dark, the doors closed but almost always without lock .............
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Disc on: April 07, 2019, 03:56:10 PM
I love "others did it with fingernails jammed like philips-heads into the toggle"...
Still find the whole exercise a lot of internal description, like thoughts and opinions... are you writing your 6 senses close to your exercise before doing it? That way you can be more aware of letting your senses drive the car.!!

Cheers
L
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Disc on: April 07, 2019, 03:52:39 PM
I flip the disc and see the rays of colors how they form multicolored fans, as I turn it some rays seem to come out of the disc ... I think that nobody uses this format nowadays, now it is the touch screen of the mobile, enter YouTube and go through that jungle of information, neon that turns on and off, invasive ads ... like Tokyo in miniature, the millions of people in a hurry crossing the pedestrian crossing, like herds of rainbow ants following their instinct, rivers of people flowing into oceans of uncertainty, manipulation ... the greasy hand that makes the puppeteer dance, the macabre threads that the puppeteer tenses to convenience ... Roger Waters wearing a critical facade but being part of the misery of the dictators, the inflatable pig bouncing and crushing people, like a colorful pool of children playing on the beach, you listen to the wind how it moves the thin palm trees from one side to the other, the sound of dry leaves, I can hear the metal blinds crashing into one another…
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Cheese on: April 03, 2019, 04:16:15 PM
In a slowly drizzle dripping motion I watched as the cheese fell from the corners of the chips "... nice move!!

It's hard to stay away from making a story, right? Hahah... cheers!
L
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cheese on: April 03, 2019, 04:12:38 PM
Adriana spreads her arms and hands us the white cheese inside the almost transparent bag, the white cheese stinks through the plastic, the juice drips through the hole in the bag, smells like Mc Donalds’ wet rag, the waitress with bad attitude cleans the white plastic table, hitting it, in her face the misery, the air conditioning is a frosty tornado, an old fried potato bends like an oily chewing gum, like a spoiled girl lying on the wooden bench in the mall, there is a thousand voices in this echo, where I smell the cinnamon that pulls me like a cart carried by horses on top of candy fields, marshmallows ... the marshmallow burns and the bubble turns black like oil, it is infecting the rest of the marshmallow, the rotten apple like wet anime brown, white worms curving and rising are a shower of slime to the surface, want to breathe but can not, are creatures that are drowning in the boat while the water is rising slowly, surrounding algae, smells of mangrove and the promenade of Shady Lake, I took my hand out of the metal boat trying to caress the lake, embracing that familiar moment, which I never thought would end ...
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Tennis Racket on: April 02, 2019, 01:24:23 PM
"...the yellow commet streaks across..."
I love this.

It could also go... The yellow commet streaks across and the universe of people screaming for more, I realize I'm no more on Earth as we know it.... "
Hahah

Cheers!
L
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Fair on: March 22, 2019, 04:24:35 PM
Eloise, great work.
Would love to see less telling, more showing.  Eg: My eyes were wide... how wide? wide as two planets? felt the itch because of how wide they were? your eyes were two white coins?
Just an idea...
Cheers!
L
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Fair on: March 22, 2019, 04:20:33 PM
The children organized themselves in a circle, sitting on wooden boxes painted red, blue, violet, yellow, green ... trying to get the chickens into the little houses. Their children's voices intertwined with each other, superimposing themselves like a quilt, like a forgotten shop window display, the blankets covered by nylons, the dust accumulated on the floor of the showcase ... people pass by and listen to the echo inside. the huge dirty glass dome, a roof that never opens ... the sound of the sunroof's engine, letting in the sunlight, warming my skin like a boiling blanket, the bubbles explode on the surface of the water, making the pot tremble ... Kayla runs with her jaguar slippers, scrape the white granite floor, she wearing her boxers and her loose gray flannel ... like a beige bag where the child enters, puts one foot and then the other ... the competitions were normal on my birthday as a child, children on their colorful bicycles flew over the track, picking up dust and carelessly, smelling the dark chocolate on the birthday cake, the sweet taste of coca cola in my mouth, tastes like piñata, we put the white plastic cups between the rubber and the bike's saddle, we made them sound like bikes, the harder it sounds the better, the bangs of the plastic and you could hear one or another coming out, falling on the floor and leaving everything like a war field, the BMX track was a mine field, you took care not to step on the dirty white cups, I held the steering wheel because it got into the furrows, you bend it to the side but the bike ignores it, sometimes the screws were isolated and then the anguish appeared, the speed without control, the merciless gusts of wind blowing in your face and the loneliness of the fall ... the earth scratched the knee with ...
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Road. on: March 21, 2019, 02:33:11 PM
I drove back from the dunes desert, held the steering wheel tightly and passed between the dunes, the beige sand dunes, from which sand is detached as in fabrics, as if it were a veil of a wedding dress ... the layers crossing on the eroded road, the super black asphalt as pure coal and the desolation, almost no other car passed by ... I remember feeling the wind, the gusts pushing the car from one side to the other, huge masses of wind ... I had to hold the steering wheel well because the usual was that the car come out of the lane ... like when the rubber scrapes the white paper and stuck pieces are left, the anger of crumpling the exam sheet and having to erase and erase, to hear the sheet almost break, is a punishment, the red and gray spot remains on the white paper , like a gum that does not want to detach itself from the wood bench, you touch the tiny hard gum mountain under the seat, then your hand smells like mint or cinnamon and you imagine the saliva you do not know, the bubbles and germs living together ... which is common to hippie, that smell of Hindu relish that was always in Devendra’s house, "forbidden to enter with shoes" his mother said from inside, shouting ... a voice that crossed the whole dining room and the room until projecting in the white entrance door, Devendra’s gaze of not being able to do anything, he shrugged and gave in to his submission ... the shoes stacked outside the door, the smell of sweat ... inside also a fair of smells, an incense of lavender that impregnated ---
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / There was a wall of plates... on: March 20, 2019, 03:07:44 PM
There was a wall of plates of all colors, translucent, there in the gift store ... we grabbed them very carefully, slowly, making sure the balance was perfect ... like a tightrope walker ... in Haydn's park they put a flat yellow rope from one tree to another, I walked there with Joe my Jackrussell, he practically dragged me, you could feel the pull as if you were skiing, I bent my body a little backwards to do the counterweight, I remember the carpet of orange flowers on the loose earth, the walkways and the dew on the grass, ... the precipice on the side ... one or another sunset I liked to photograph it, the west was painted orange and red, leaving the silhouette of the sun perfectly drawn, the big and respected ball of fire, those small transparent waves that appear when there is something very hot, sometimes it happens with the asphalt, you can see the images distorted ... the dry trunk, the skeleton of the crunchy cicada ... its legs are small Needles that remain stuck in the bark of the trees ... my aunt Marta had a cork wall in her drawing studio, smelled of crayons, creativity ...  Music studios also smell like that, the new music equipment, music stores smell of creativity, like when my mom went back from the United Kingdom with lots of towels, unzipped her worn purple suitcase and there was that smell of Wallgreens, variety, the rubber of the new shoe along with the chocolate, the sound of the M&M's bag, the yellow bag with the muffled noise muted by the new clothes, the labels clogging ... the plastic paper mountains beside the suitcases and the atmosphere of celebration in the house, eyes wide open to see what's new .... like when my dad gave me my first pro skateboard, I took it out of that blue jean where it was hidden, I could feel the smooth and polished board in my hands, the bright colors, blue, violet ... like the ultraviolet lights in the school canteen, forming a strange halo around, the vision becomes blurred and the grid lines ------
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / TILE - 10min on: March 19, 2019, 04:13:38 PM
the earth-colored tile, the rocky slope facing the sea, the cyclists pass like boliders by the seashore, a shore worn and eroded by saltpeter, craters form and you can see the gray concrete, pale ... Kingston Town seems like a ghost town, bent and rusted iron towers, children walking barefoot taking their hands to the mouth, while other ladies walk slowly to the edge of the street, with their hands on their heads holding the yellow, white, red and brown cocadas ... one that another fly flies ... the buzz that threatens and passes inches from the ear, Rudy went with the racket up dragging his panda slippers, looking to electrocute the giant green fly,  like those green Chevrolet ... George had one red wine, he laughed like a magpie, then he stared at you in the eyes and let out an insult between his teeth ... sad his episode where they let themselves be influenced by Rick, ... his gummed false hair, his chemise rolled up, ... that day in the school festival, Jordan was very bored, he wanted nothing, we played the game of the hammer, the hammer was sticky, it stuck in my hands like grey chewing gum, it was hard to get away from the expired rubber, imagine the sweat and the smell of musk in all that ... yesterday the man in red overall in the market, smelled like grease from a mechanic's shop, in the background the colorful fruits were the only salvation, he had grease spots all over his pant ... he walked careless and I avoided at all costs to pass him near, maximum stench ... like shop floor, grease stains and dogs that lie under the cars ... that day we went to find the battery, we managed avoiding the gaps, we wobbled from one side to another trying not to fall ... every once in a while the car falls and punishes, like a whip that hits under the car, a sharp blow and you think that the rubber burst, like a rubber flower with incorporated threads and everything ...
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Fish on: March 02, 2019, 02:01:51 PM
Inevitably I'm going to that day when I hit the swordfish, I looked at his soft eye and his look of surrender, of love ... I had the small aluminum bat in my hand and hit his head, I could not believe what I was doing. Blood stains spilling down the white deck of the boat, while we wobbled from one side to another ... that repentance, the breaking of innocence in fishing ... the silence that accompanied me later, sailing with my dad and me, was a silence of having contemplated the surrender of the animal in its condition of being useful, of serving for something, of recognizing the day when its meat was going to be eaten by humans ... it was a relatively small swordfish ... if you ask me today, I would have preferred never do it ... maybe that's why I now recognize other qualities in animals ... I look into my cat's eyes and see in that green and black sphere the spark of God, my cat walking along me from my room to the bathroom and then to the kitchen , the rest on his belly and his half-open eyes always staring at me, reminding me of the vulnerable of the animal ... sometimes he goes up and leans on my arm when I'm writing a song or doing some writing exercise, his warm brown and furry coat on my arm, while the gentle cold breeze tries to slide between the tiny windows, ... from my studio I can see the slope full of grass, the trinitarian bushes moving from one side to another, here in the top of St Barthez ... the island that saw me grow up, where tales of tigers in the cave became daily
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Marker on: January 19, 2019, 02:30:05 PM
I uncork it and it smells like gasoline, I'm tempted to stay there, smelling, like children who are careless walking around the square, mocking people, with a swing in their walk as if they owned the street, usually go barefoot ... they come in groups of 4 or 5 children to the car window, hit the glass and ask for money making signs with their hand, people look at them from the corner of their eyes, they rarely smile ... if you take out a piece of food, they run to you like piranhas , a furious swarm that breaks loose in seconds ... friends of smog and soot, know how it is to be ignored and rejected, as if they had been born by mistake, the skin is becoming immune to contempt ... but at night they go and play, like any boy, with sticks and stones, they take off their mask, their armor ... “cheap diversion“ they usually told me when I was playing with a stick doing drawings on the ground, I was supposed to play soccer but I preferred to see, clouds of dust were going from one side to the other on the court ... "the peladero" they called to that place in the school, ... and there I had my eyes lost in the ground, squatting, I knew I could draw infinitely, I made one and erase it, made another and erase it, and so I could spend hours ... that's why I think so much rudeness in street children, has its facade, its mask, not to be devoured by the rapist, the exploiter ... like that afternoon I was approached by that man in blue chemise, the same color that I wore when I was in school, 12 years old, "come and i’ll take you home" ... the man asked me about Royal Street, when anyone over there knows where Royal Street is. Hidden intentions, the demon prowling, creeping, secreting desires for himself no matter the consequences ... dirty from so much crawling
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