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Travelling Quietly, Writing: March 2009

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Travelling Quietly, Writing. A ragged accumulation of writing. The bell hanging from the doorway to the shop in East Mickmack rang while the hinges lent their accompanying squeak. Seamus, looking up from his bent over position, noticed the haberdasher as he came in, walked to the counter and sighed with his whole body. Old man Johnson, he thought. The boy was 13 at the time. Afternoon, Mr. Johnson.". Aye Afternoon. You got any old leathers lying 'round the store I can take home? For the pup, you see.".

travellingquietly.blogspot.com

Travelling Quietly, Writing: May 2010

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Travelling Quietly, Writing. A ragged accumulation of writing. This goddamn chair is goddamn uncomfortable.". What did I tell you about taking the Lord's name in vain, Clinton? He hits himself. You think he'd go 'Medamnit! The older man chuckles and eyes his son. You're trying too hard, Pop.". I suppose not. Hey, can I ask you something,? What makes these divets here, in the wood? Clinton hands the branch to Howard, who turns it over in his hand, feeling the grooves left behind. Thanks," he says. OK OK H...

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Travelling Quietly, Writing: The Exchange

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Travelling Quietly, Writing. A ragged accumulation of writing. The pain in his gut was so intense it made his head buzz. He lay on the cold concrete, his warm blood seeping beneath him and staining the ground, his clothes, his backside. And my mom said to always wear clean underwear," he thought. "Good use that's doing." He smiled to himself, thinking of his mother: her warm cocoa eyes, her smile to him when he was a child, the way her hands made soup for him when he was sick. View my complete profile.

travellingquietly.blogspot.com

Travelling Quietly, Writing: June 2010

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Travelling Quietly, Writing. A ragged accumulation of writing. Making for the Shore. He wiped his brow and took slow breaths, opening his eyes to see what lay before him. The distant shore was no longer distant, but a mammoth of mesas and shoreline stretched out before him. The boy cried, silently, to himself. He continued on, kicking and paddling again, head down. He had done it. He swam to Sanctuary. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. Making for the Shore.

prettydang.com

Ryan Laughlin · writing

http://prettydang.com/writing

Following in the footsteps of other. I write occasional ultra-short stories when I feel inspired. Check ’em out! I make occasional life observations on Tumblr. Writing about anything from web design to concert reviews to Olympic curling. I’m also on Twitter. Just like everybody else in the world. Follow me for interesting links, updates on projects, and pithy observations. 2012 Ryan Laughlin. Thanks for stopping by!

cinerarium.wordpress.com

The Sound of Music | Cinerarium

https://cinerarium.wordpress.com/2012/01/02/the-sound-of-music

The Sound of Music. We’ve been watching a lot of movies as we pack everything away for the move, mostly old favorites (Dirty Dancing! Or things you can leave playing in the background without losing too much (Mega Piranha! A filmic movie — we watched it on a tiny little laptop screen, and I found myself longing mightily to see it in a proper movie theater, even as I groaned my way through the glurge of My Favorite Things and Do-Re-Mi. Director Robert Wise captures the sheer dazzling. Feed for this Entry.

travellingquietly.blogspot.com

Travelling Quietly, Writing: In the barn

http://travellingquietly.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-barn.html

Travelling Quietly, Writing. A ragged accumulation of writing. Just a writing exercise to keep me writing. We lay in the haystacks, breathing heavily. The deep shade from the barn loft hid the seawater of her eyes from me. Sweat began to glisten and stick below my t-shirt. I lay there, panting. In, a maelstrom of cool air into my nose. Out, a tornado of warmth out my mouth. She rolled onto her side, propping up her head with an arm, looking at me. Not staring, just casually observing. May I help you?

elstoryblog.blogspot.com

El Story Blog: January 2009

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Erratically throughout the week. Generally crap. Wednesday, January 28, 2009. So i found this in the Twelve Reasons. Folder. I started a new story today, but remembered that the idea had been kicking around for awhile and thought that perhaps snippets of it might be floating around in one file or another. I am - was? I am trying to write a story about her, but for some reason I cannot describe her. Her face was roundish? But maybe a little long in the chin? It makes me uncomfortable, to be honest. But ho...

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Grace of My Heart | Cinerarium

https://cinerarium.wordpress.com/2011/11/12/grace-of-my-heart

Grace of My Heart. Allison Anders is one of my favorite directors and I was really excited to finally watch. Grace of My Heart. Which I’ve been wanting to see for forever. While I didn’t like it as much as. Gas, Food, Lodging. And it does have some structural flaws, it is an incredibly feminist movie in lots of ways and I think it is a more successful effort than. Things Behind the Sun. Responses to “Grace of My Heart”. Feed for this Entry. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Get every n...

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Travelling Quietly, Writing: The False Boyhood; The Blank Page

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Travelling Quietly, Writing. A ragged accumulation of writing. The False Boyhood; The Blank Page. The page lay open and plain-white like pressed t-shirts hanging on the line when his mother used to wash his clothes as a boy. Except that was thrilling, running through the sheets, the laundry, the wind. Innocence was always on his lips and turmoil at his back, the way he shaped the tall grass with his feet as he ran past. But those days, those engorged and fattened memories, were gone.