In 1666, while young Isaac Newton was quarantined in a dark bedroom to avoid catching the plague, he noticed a tiny beam of light pouring through a hole in his window. Using a glass prism, he bent the light to make a rainbow of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and indigo. (Not violet, but that’s coming. For now, it’s just ROYGBI.)
Next, he reunited the ribbons of light using a second prism, turning them a solid white again. This was how he proved that light, which we perceive as white, is actually made up of several colors.
Newton then drew a chart of the six rainbow colors, adding a seventh one (you guessed, it, violet) by combining the first (red) with the sixth (indigo) in order to connect the arc together in a continuous circle.
And finally, he labeled his seven-color wheel with the letters A through G. Why did he choose these letters? He wanted them to match the seven notes in the western musical scale. I think he felt a connection between colors and music … as many people do. The connection is kind of magical (one could even say it’s a Rainbow Connection, especially if one were Kermit the Frog).
Here’s Newton’s illustration of the Color Wheel. Note that the sections are unevenly spaced, corresponding to the way notes on the musical scale are arranged (full steps after A, C, D, F, and G, but only half-steps after B and E).
Speaking of colors, here are some colorful autumn scenes, taken just last month. Click each one for a bigger burst of color.
Leaves Holding HandsHighland Park, Rochester NYHelderberg Mountains, near Albany, NYHelderberg EscarpmentRainbow ConnectionBurning Bush in my yard
Since Newton’s birthday is December 25, I’m going to go out on a limb (an apple tree limb, of course), and guess that his favorite colors were red and green. Mine are yellow and indigo. What are your favorite colors?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This is post #7 of the month-long challenge known as #NaBloPoMo or #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, please click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
And, to read more of the NanoPoblano posts written by the supportive blogging group “Cheer Peppers,” click the image below.
Last night, I stayed up until 1:30 a.m. reading #NanoPoblano2022 blog posts. At least, my phone said it was 1:30 a.m. But what time was it, really? Had Daylight Saving Time ended yet?
I thought about getting up to check the other clocks in my house, but I was tired, with a sore arm and a mild fever after getting my COVID booster that morning. I just rolled over and went to sleep. When I awoke this morning, my phone said it was 6:30 a.m. Was that really 6:30, or was it 7:30? Or, was it 5:30? I was so confused.
I stumbled into the kitchen. My microwave said it was 7:30. I set it back an hour, still not sure how many hours of sleep I’d actually gotten. (Not that it mattered. I was going back to bed as soon as I let the dog out.)
It was like one of those horrible math questions:
If a NanoPoblano blogger with a 99.8-degree fever stays up reading other NanoPoblano blogger posts until 1:30 a.m. on the night that Daylight Saving Time ends, and then has a dream that she'd taken a train that left the station at point A at 1:30 and arrived at point B at 6:30, and if the clock in the train station says it's 7:30, but her analog watch says it's 12:32 because she forgot to wind it, what time is it in her kitchen, and how many cups of coffee will she need before she can write a blog post of her own?
I need more coffee to figure that one out. Meanwhile, here’s a reblog of a post I wrote way back on Nov. 4, 2017 for NanoPoblano. It’s about Daylight Saving Time. (I think you have to click “Continue” in order to read the entire post … the technical aspects of blogging are also something requiring more coffee.)
Are you affected by Daylight Saving Time? If so, what do you think of it? Should we do away with it?
This is post #6 of the month-long challenge known as #NaBloPoMo or #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, please click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
And, to read more of the NanoPoblano posts written by the supportive blogging group “Cheer Peppers,” click the image below.
In my Nov. 2 post, Secrets Revealed!, I shared the story of how I came to write a little ditty called “Home Alone.” Today, I’d like to talk about another song I’ve written for my new songwriting club.
Our prompt for this song was “inspiration.” We were supposed to try and write songs having to do with a quote that means something to us. I bent the rules a bit and used the title of one of my photos for inspiration. Here’s the photo, which also can be seen in my Nov. 1 post:
The stillness and vulnerability of the trees, and the way they seemed to be listening to and supporting each other, made me want to write something quiet and reflective to support them, something that would say “I hear you.” I grabbed my guitar and played one of my favorite chords, A-major-seventh (Amaj7). Here’s a photo of an Amaj7 chord that I found online. It’s one of the easier chords to make!
Photo by sweetlouise at pixabay.com
Major chords, or major triads, are often described as happy. The notes are bright and positive-sounding. Minor chords can be described as sad. The second note of the triad (third note of the scale) is dropped by a half-step (one fret on the guitar). For some reason, this brings out sad emotions. But major SEVENTH chords are really different. They add an unexpected fourth note – a half-step below the octave – and the result is a little bit dissonant and melancholy, but at the same time warm, sweet, and hopeful. At least that’s how I hear major seventh chords.
After I played that Amaj7 on the guitar, my hands drifted up the neck a bit and sort of accidentally landed on the strings in places that, when strummed, sounded good to my ear. Turns out it was a chord called Cadd9. (I had to look it up.)
My new song, “Listen to the Trees,” ended up with ten different chords altogether, and it all started with that Amaj7. It has a bossa nova beat which makes me think of the great Brazilian jazz composer Antonio Carlos Jobim, who used a lot of major seventh chords in his own songs.
Here are the lyrics to my song:
LISTEN TO THE TREES
Whispers in the forest, carried on a breeze
hear the quiet chorus of the trees
branches are bending, roots move underground
messages that barely make a sound.
Telling their troubles, each in their own way
helping each other through the day
around them only silence, actions too few –
and the trees, they know this is true.
Take the time to listen, listen to the trees
know what they are saying, get down on our knees
tell them we hear them, do what they need
and give a word of thanks to the trees.
Inhale the essence of treasures we can lose
be mindful of the things we choose
learn nature’s lessons from branches above
wrap our arms around the ones we love.
I’ll try to record it and post a link, if I can remember how to use Garage Band. That could take me until next November, though!
Have you ever written a song, poem, or story about trees? Post a link in the comments below if you have!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This is post #5 of the month-long challenge known as #NaBloPoMo or #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, please click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
And, to read more of the NanoPoblano posts written by the supportive blogging group “Cheer Peppers,” click the image below.
Featured image at top of post by Gordon Johnson at pixabay.com
I’ve been wearing eyeglasses since I was six years old. My first frames were red. Red PLAID, that is.
Not my actual glasses, but close!
Adult Me:
As an adult, I’ve been careful when purchasing eyewear, in the hopes of not looking as dorky as I did in first grade. My last pair was trendy, a Warby Parker style in a dark blue color called “Beach Glass.” I paid $325 for them in 2019. Here’s an actual, unretouched photo of me in my glasses:
I see I’m still wearing plaid. Oh well.
By 2021, I realized my vision had changed, and so had my taste in frames. Maybe the pandemic changed me. All that dreary news, all those drab and dreary masks. I no longer want such dark frames. It was time to go shopping for glasses. Things went downhill from there.
Late 2021:
I found an eye doctor in my new town and went to see him. When I arrived, there were no cars in the parking lot. That should have been my first clue. Inside, the office looked run-down, there were no other patients waiting, and there was loud classic rock music playing somewhere down the hall. I considered leaving, but then out he came to greet me. He was an older gentleman who seemed a bit forgetful, but he was very nice. I went ahead with the exam and got a new prescription.
Early 2022:
I found frames I liked at Zenni.com (a company I’ve bought glasses from before) and ordered them online. They were really cute: pink, cranberry, and black in a tortoiseshell pattern. Best of all, they only cost $126, including progressive (no-line bifocal) lenses and non-glare coating!
Pink and black … uh-oh. Maybe I’m stuck in the 50s.
Mid-2022:
I received my Zenni glasses. The prescription seemed off, so I returned them. Zenni inspected them and discovered a manufacturing error. They remade them for me free of charge and sent me another pair … but those were even worse. I couldn’t read the TV screen; I couldn’t even read street signs while driving. I returned this second pair of Zennis. They were inspected as well, and Zenni commendably admitted they’d made another error, just a slight one this time, but enough to earn me a full store credit. I haven’t used it yet. Don’t know if I ever will.
Summer 2022:
I had another eye exam, and my vision had by now changed again. With my new prescription in hand, I decided to take a chance on the optician playing the loud classic rock music in the other half of the office. Boy, I don’t know how to take a hint, do I. When I picked up my new Kate Spades, a right-wing talk show spouting conspiracy theories, instead of classic rock music, was booming out of the guy’s radio. I paid for the glasses ($450) and vowed never to return again.
I had to return again, though, because although I could read street signs off in the distance, I couldn’t read anything else .
Fall, 2022:
It was second opinion time. I saw a new eye doctor, who really seemed on the ball. She said she’d corrected my vision to 20/15 (the best it’s ever been), and I could tell when I looked through her equipment that it was true. The new prescription was a far cry from the one I’d gotten only a few months earlier. Finally, I was getting somewhere! At least, that’s what I thought.
Because now, I needed to find a pair of well-made, affordable glasses. I decided to visit the optician who was part of her practice. Almost immediately, I fell in love with a pair of stylish rose/mauve frames that looked great on me.
The friendly, talkative optician couldn’t have agreed more as she cheerfully worked up my price quote: with lenses, $832, plus tax.
I. Don’t. Think. So.
I went home without ordering, wondering how a pair of glasses could cost that much. When I started looking into it, I learned that, according to Forbes, The Guardian, the L.A. Times, and other news outlets, there’s been something close to a monopoly in the eyeglass industry for years, and it’s run by a company called Luxottica. And Luxottica actually seems proud of their “vertically integrated business model” that allows them to market their brands through LensCrafters, Pearle Vision, Target, etc. Not quite a pyramid scheme, but almost.
Here’s an excerpt from their website:
“Luxottica is a leader in the design, manufacture and distribution of fashion, luxury and sports eyewear. Its portfolio includes proprietary brands such as Ray-Ban, Oakley, Vogue Eyewear, Persol, Oliver Peoples, Arnette, Costa del Mar and Alain Mikli, as well as licensed brands including Giorgio Armani, Burberry, Bulgari, Chanel, Coach, Dolce&Gabbana, Ferrari, Michael Kors, Prada, Ralph Lauren, Tiffany & Co., Valentino and Versace. … One of the Group’s competitive advantages is the vertically integrated business model built over the years, covering the entire value chain: design, product development, manufacturing, logistics and distribution.”
Yep. The eyeglass industry seems to have gone the way of Big Pharma. Since they control distribution, they’re free to charge the consumer whatever they can get away with.
November, 2022:
I’ve been trying to find out if I have insurance coverage for glasses. (I don’t, but after NINE phone calls between various optical companies, my insurance benefits office, and a company called Eye-Med, I’ve discovered that I’m eligible for a discount program with Eye-Med that I have to pay for in order to get the discount. And the information on their website is so confusing that I still don’t know how much that discount is.
I’ve gone back to wearing my three-year old glasses for now. I’ll probably try to find a pair on Warby Parker that I like. I just can’t see spending over $800 on a pair of glasses when my prescription changes about once a year.
How much are YOU willing to pay for a pair of good quality eyeglasses?
This is post #3 in this year’s #NaBloPoMo challenge, a.k.a. #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, just click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
My sister Lisa recently suggested I join her songwriting club. The group is given a prompt and then meets once a month to perform their new songs for each other (followed by polite applause and short critiques). Even though I get nervous performing in public, I decided to give it a whirl.
What’s the worst that can happen, I asked myself. I’ll be on Zoom, and if I can tell by their faces that my song really sucks, I’ll just mute myself and blame it on my computer!
This month’s prompt is Home. That’s a pretty broad topic. Maybe a little too broad, I thought. And for an entire day or two, I wracked my brain trying to come up with a clever idea. I even made this list of phrases using the word “home,” hoping it would lead me somewhere:
But that list just led me in circles. In desperation, I sat down at my piano keyboard. Now, mind you, my piano skills are somewhere between beginner and advanced beginner. But sometimes my fingers accidentally land on notes that lead me to a song idea. This time, it worked.
I played a couple of simple chords, and – lo and behold – some words popped into my head. I hate to admit it, though: they were pretty dumb words. The words were:
“Since my baby left me.”
Yeah, I know, that’s been done before (in the song “Heartbreak Hotel”). But what good is a good song lyric if you can’t steal it, I asked myself.
Just so I wouldn’t be sued by the estate of Thomas Durden, who wrote Heartbreak Hotel, I decided to give my song a more positive twist. Somehow, I’d turn heartbreak into happiness.
Writing a song about heartbreak turned on its head was difficult. The struggle was real, as these pictures will demonstrate:
In the end, I DID manage to come up with something positive, and, I think, positively funny. Here’s what I’ve got so far for my new song, “Home Alone”:
So now you know a few of my songwriting secrets, and also what happened “since my baby left me.”
P.S. The song above is a work of FICTION. My baby didn’t leave me, and I don’t like being home alone!
This is post #3 in this year’s #NaBloPoMo challenge, a.k.a. #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, just click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
Welcome to Day 2 of NaBloPoMo and NanoPoblano (November’s 30-day blog post challenge).
I have a new camera!
Yes, about two weeks ago, I bought a Nikon Z5. It’s a step up from my Nikon D3200, and it comes with some awesome features like full frame sensor, mirrorless, better sensor, image stabilization, tilting touch screen, and more focus points. Plus, it even has the ability to stack several photos on top of each other.
Secret #1: I don’t really understand any of that, but I’m hoping for some interesting results, eventually!
I also bought a new lens to go with my camera, a 28-75mm zoom.
Secret #2: My old 18-300mm zoom lens was fairly crappy. The more I used it, the more I came to realize that. In low-light situations, or when zooming all the way out (for example, when trying to capture birds in flight), everything was either grainy or out of focus. It was frustrating. My new lens seems to be doing better. It only zooms out to 75mm, but that’s okay, because I think it’s a better quality lens. Eventually, I’ll buy the 28-200mm I have my eye on, but for now I’m just going to focus (pardon the pun) on learning to use what I’ve got.
Here’s one of the first shots I took with the Z5 – a zinnia in my garden. For this shot, zoomed out to 75mm, I got close to the flower and set the f-stop at 2.8, which gives the photo that soft, blurry background known as “bokeh.”
And here’s another one of my first “new camera” photos. I think it’s the first still life I’ve ever attempted.
I set the camera on a tripod and experimented with different lighting, including filtered window light plus a floor lamp. For the background, I went to a fabric store in search of black velvet. The closest they could come to that was brown velveteen, which I settled for, and I’m glad I did … I like how the soft brownish tones go with the toast.
But … Secret #3: I wish I’d gotten more of this photo in focus. I could have done that if I’d taken my time and adjusted the f-stop from 5.6 to a higher number.
By the way, that plate in the picture? I spent $10 on it at an antique store, specifically for this picture, and … Secret #4: I promptly smashed a chunk of it off when I accidentally banged it against the bowl of oranges while arranging the shot. I cobbled the plate back together with clear packing tape, and then … Secret #5: I airbrushed the crack line in the photo using my Lightroom photo editing software. (Okay, now you know all my secrets.)
This still life is based on a song, “Chelsea Morning,” by Joni Mitchell. Do you know it? Click the link and you can watch her singing it live in 1969. I actually just met someone online who had never heard of or listened to Joni’s song, “Blue,” and that made me sad. If you’ve never heard “Blue,” I urge you to listen to it!
But now, back to Chelsea Morning. The song, one of Joni’s earliest recordings, includes the following lyrics, which you’ll hear at 1:38 in the video:
Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning
and the first thing that I knew
there was milk and toast and honey
and a bowl of oranges, too.
After all this talk about songs, I think my next post will be about my own attempts to write a new song, which I’ve titled “Home Alone.” And it isn’t the least bit sad!
Welcome back for the fifth and final installment of “Lucky to Live in the ROC.” After Part 4‘s mad-dash adventures in pizza tasting, coffee drinking, and mural gazing, I’ll bet you’re ready for a nice relaxing drive through the autumn hills of upstate New York.
But first, a note: November is National Blog Post Month (#NaBloPoMo), when dedicated bloggers everywhere try to post a little something every day. Throughout the month, I’ll be writing daily posts until I run out of ideas – which could be tomorrow. 🙂 Luckily, I’m part of a Facebook group (NanoPoblano) that cheers each other on by reading and commenting on each others’ posts. To read NanoPoblano posts, just join the NanoPoblano Facebook group or type NanoPoblano in the WordPress search field.
Now for those autumn hills:
Letchworth State Park
A beautiful upstate New York destination – especially in the fall – is Letchworth State Park, 40 miles south of Rochester. Due to its scenic gorge carved out by the Genesee River, the park is known as the “Grand Canyon of the East.” The photo below was taken at Inspiration Point, where you can take in the view of both Upper Falls in the distance and Middle Falls. (Lower Falls can’t be seen in this photo.) It’s just a short drive (or fairly easy round-trip hike) from one waterfall to the next, with plenty of parking areas, and even a snack bar close by. I visited the park on a Sunday, and even though it was a weekend, it wasn’t crowded at all.
After admiring the view, I turned around and looked up at the trees. They seemed to be communicating with each other (which, according to Peter Wohlleben in “The Hidden Life of Trees,” they actually do). These trees literally inspired me to go home and write a song about them. I call it “Listen to the Trees.”
Trees at Inspiration Point
Here’s a closer look at Upper Falls:
Upper Falls
The photo at the top of this post (above the title) is Middle Falls.
Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area
About 35 miles south of Rochester, you can hike through Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area and get a lovely view of Honeoye Lake, one of the eleven Finger Lakes.
Honeoye Lake
Look around and you’ll see even more to admire there: leaves, park buildings, a hornet nest (yikes!), and even a gray squirrel or two. Full disclosure: the squirrel was perched on a fence in nearby Dansville, which I visited later in the day, but somehow he jumped into this scene. I’ll forgive him for acting so squirrely.
Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area
This sure was a good year for fall colors. The hills seemed to be alive with brilliant reds, oranges, and golds, especially when the sun hit them just right. I’m glad I got outside with my camera in October, because the leaves are dropping quickly now.
Speaking of which, I have a new camera! Although the above photos were taken with my older one (a Nikon D3200, considered “entry level” among DSLR cameras), future posts will show my attempts at learning to use my new Nikon Z5 in “manual” mode. Stay tuned!
If you’d like to follow me to see how long I last in the #NaBloPoMo challenge, a.k.a. #NanoPoblano, just click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
Today I’ll be able to check off both items on my list with this ONE blog post! And then I can immediately go back to sleeping adding more things to my to-do list.
About NanoPoblano
I’ve been giving a lot of thought to NanoPoblano (a daily blogging challenge that takes place every year in November), and I’ve decided that the key to a good month-long blog challenge is to write about something the READERS care about. I’m really looking forward to doing that.
So, in the comments below, please leave a word or two about what you’d like to read in my November blog posts. I’ll do my best to work all of your suggestions in.
About Mudslide
Mudslide is a story I’ve been working on for Carrot Ranch Literary Community. It’s a writing challenge designed to torture inspire, educate, and motivate writers.
The Mudslide challenge began with a 297-word story about a mudslide, which then gets pared down — first to 99 words, then 59, and then an unbelievable 9 words, while experimenting with writing techniques such as changing point of view, analyzing important “nuggets,” and interjecting words of emotion.
If you’re interested, you can read those earlier versions by looking at my previous blog posts. Or, you can just read my final challenge below, a 495-word story about a mudslide, cascading all the way to the end of this page.
MUDSLIDE
I sat bolt upright and stared at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock. They stared back at me accusingly, unblinking. Two-fifteen. What had awoken me?
Slowly, it dawned on me. I’d just had that dream again, the one about the mudslide.
I’d had it four nights in a row, ever since moving in with Jake – the man I’d promised to spend the rest of my life with. I knew I should tell my shrink about the dreams, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she’d have to say about them – especially if I told her the whole story.
I looked over at Jake, snoring softly beside me. I touched his shoulder; he didn’t move. What – or who – was he dreaming about, I wondered? But I needed to stop thinking like that. Who was I to be jealous? I lay down and tried falling back to sleep, but I was still haunted by images of the mudslide in my dream.
It was strong – a torrent of devastating mud, carrying everything in its path down with it into an infinite abyss. There was no escape.
What did it mean? Was it some kind of a warning? Did I have to start watching my back – again?
I was lying still, but I felt uncontrollably dizzy. Unable to stop my swirling thoughts, I got out of bed, tiptoed from the room, and pulled my phone from my purse. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to try an internet search of dream interpretation.
I’d just Googled the words “mudslide dream” when Jake startled me, coming up behind me without a sound and kissing my neck. I jumped and dropped the phone.
It started buzzing as soon as it hit the floor. I quickly reached to pick it up, but Jake beat me to it. He stared at it a second and then held it out so I could see the screen. Caller ID said “SLIM DUDE.”
The phone continued to buzz in Jake’s hand. Finally, it stopped.
“Who’s ‘Slim Dude’?” Jake asked, not expecting what I said next.
“My husband,” I said, feeling ashamed.
“You have a … HUSBAND?!” Jake said. He’d started out whispering, but his words were choked at the end.
My mouth went dry and I couldn’t answer. Instead, I saw a vision, flashing like a neon sign in my brain. It was my husband’s nickname, the one he’d gotten in prison, the eight letters in SLIM DUDE tattooed on his fingers.
I knew then that SLIM DUDE would never stop calling me, never stop haunting my dreams. SLIM DUDE wouldn’t rest until he’d found a way to worm his way into my head again, scrambling up my happiness, and converting my life into a MUDSLIDE of despair.
And now the worst had happened. Jake knew the truth. I took one last look at him and said goodbye forever to my happy life, giving in to the power of the mudslide.
Day 30 of the Nano Poblano (a.k.a. NaBloPoMo — National Blog Posting Month) challenge is finally here! Thanks for reading, thanks for writing, and thanks to the “cheer peppers” who made it all happen and cheered us on by “liking” our posts. I read the posts of my fellow bloggers religiously and learned so much from all of you.
I’m proud of myself for sticking with it, even though some days were a little rough. Somehow, I managed to eke out 30 different pieces, including:
two posts made within 15 minutes of midnight
one post consisting of only one sentence
two posts that were nothing but questions
one that included a video of me singing and playing guitar
a poem made up of 14 shorter haiku poems
many other posts, some with a bit of history, some just plain silly
no cat photos, and only one post with pictures of what I had for lunch
Even though I thoroughly enjoyed NanoPoblano, I’m looking forward to a little down time in December. (Did I just say down time in December?) This year, for the first time since I was a kid, I couldn’t wait for December to get here. I mean, I literally couldn’t wait. As soon as I returned home from New York yesterday, I changed both of my wall calendars to December without realizing that I was two days early.
There’s one thing I meant to post this month and didn’t. It’s a little embarrassing, but here goes: I don’t know how to rap. I don’t know much about it and I think I might be terrible at it. I’d like to learn, though, so that maybe I can use it in my songwriting projects. But how do you learn to rap? The same way you can learn almost anything these days: YouTube! I watched a few videos and I learned that some rappers (I think it’s called freestyle?) compose on the spot by thinking ahead to the end of the phrase before mentally writing the first line. I decided to try it, so I looked around the room for inspiration. I was in the kitchen. On the table was a glass, some cheese and crackers on a plate, and a vase of flowers. I grabbed my pad and pencil, and here’s the result. I may not win a Grammy, but if I make you smile it’s all worth it.
I had no support, I had no backers,
all I had going were these tasty crackers
I needed a genie to grant me three wishes
instead of all these glasses and dirty dishes
I wanted to be strong, I wanted magic powers
or maybe just a bunch of beautiful flowers
I had me some treble, I had me some bass
but I needed something else, like a flower vase
I asked that genie, pretty pretty please
can you bring me some money, or maybe just some cheese?
And on that note, I’m rapping up this edition of loristory. Happy December!
Can you think of a more boring and uncomfortable place to spend a couple of hours than an auto repair shop waiting room? The room smells like rubber and fumes. The coffee tastes like rubber and fumes. The television, usually set to the news channel I love to hate, makes me fume. To my mind, there’s nothing pleasant about an auto repair shop waiting room … but wait. Could it be an opportunity for creativity?
I wondered that one Saturday afternoon in 2011, while sitting on a hard plastic chair in a Brake Master’s waiting room, sandwiched between the coffee pot and a rubber tire display. Desperate to escape this situation but unable to do so, since my only method of transportation was currently up on a lift, I did something rarely done in an auto repair shop waiting room: I wrote poetry.
Specifically, I challenged myself to write three-line poems about random objects that I saw while sitting there. Here’s what I came up with. They might not be very good, but they passed the time. You might want to try this method of escape next time you’re in an uncomfortable situation. (Brake) drum roll, please!
FLOOR
I walk through life as if there is a floor
and a ceiling
and something of substance in between.
TELEVISION
The woman in the box prattles on, oblivious
thinking she's all that matters in this room
I accept this, knowing it is true.
FAN
Fans are useful in the tropics
where orchids spring from steamy earth
and bodies cling to gauzy shirts.
SANDALS
She slipped off her sandals and left them by the door
hoping they'd still be there when it was time to leave the cage.
You never knew about a hungry lion.
COFFEE POT
If a kitchen had a double agent, it would be the coffee pot
keeping things lively
while watching your every morning move.
BATHROOM
Bathrooms should be outrageous spaces.
A woman I know has the best one.
It's purple and is decorated with boobs.
MAGAZINE
The glossy magazine calls to me
with parted lips and false eyelashes
but I resist and choose reality, reluctantly.
CHAIR
I sit here and await the verdict
when all I asked for was an oil change
and some honesty.
