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Using Yoga for the Brain
Describe a small memory that involves someone older than you.
She held my hand. We walked down the road at a pace only an old woman and a toddler would understand. As we padded along she would stop from time to time to point out a plant, describe its use and how to remember what it did.
It is the single memory of my father’s mother that I have left. I never knew her well, we seldom saw her in later years. Most times when we visited she was shut in her room too ill to deal with young ones.
Experiment # 5
First Sentence stick pick:
My mother was doing that thing she did. That thing with the rag in the sink.
She was OCD about the drain and would wipe it down six times after every use of the kitchen sink. Not three times, nor five times, always six times. She used the same rag each time too. The rag was nasty and full of holes but she wouldn’t replace it with another one.
“Put the rag down, it’s time to go.”
Drew a Non Sequitur stick:
The plane was two hours late.
No wonder she was more off her rocker today than usual. She hated flying. Waiting made it worse.
Chose a last straw stick:
The last time they saw a movie.
It was the same darned movie they were showing in flight. She didn’t like it back then and had made loud, snide remarks during it. Maybe finding her book in the carry-on would be better.
Experiment #4 timed
First Sentence stick pick:
My only defense was to write down every word they said.
If I didn’t I’d never remember all the crazy crap that fell from their mouths. No one would ever believe me, but I’d found the best place in the world for crazy dialogue. I sat there sipping cup after cup of coffee scribbling down line after line of the funniest conversations I’d ever heard.
Drew a Non Sequitur stick:
“If you don’t take chances,” said the man in the striped pajamas, “you might as well not be alive.”
I put that statement in my truths column and waited to hear how his companion would reply. Then I realized he was talking to me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to look at zebra pajamas man. So I stared into my cup. I knew if I looked at him I’d start to giggle and I knew if I started to giggle I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Chose a last straw stick:
His companion walked out the door leaving him waving the bill she forgot to pay at her retreating form. He grumbled and growled a bit over her leaving him to pay her check.
Experiment #3 timed
For those of you interested in The Writer’s Toolbox, you can find it at the link below.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0811854299/ref=oh_details_o02_s00_i02?ie=UTF8&psc=1
Using the timer tonight.
First Sentence stick pick:
I had this system for getting exactly what I wanted out of people. That is what made me salesman of the year every year. It worked at selling cars and any sales job I’d ever had. The problem was, I hated selling cars. I was bored, bored, bored out of my mind. I began to imagine different ways to commit murder whenever I had to deal with an irate customer. I even joked about it once with a friend of mine.
Drew a Non Sequitur stick:
He told me, “You could make a living doing that kind of thing.”
I suppose I could, but I had never thought about it, until then.
Normally I am a patient and gentle soul. However, on the day that jerk, my ex husband, David Hennessy came into our showroom and announced that he’d bought the dealership, all bets were off. I knew exactly what he was up to and felt the target on my back.
Chose a last straw stick:
I cut the brake lines on the Honda when I left work that night. Hearing about his fatal accident on the news in the morning had me grinning while I sipped my morning coffee.
End of Experiment #3
Adventures in writing… experiment #2
First Sentence stick pick:
After only two months, Helen decided to become an exotic dancer.
College life didn’t suit her. She loved seedy bars and raunchy men. Yes, there was something wrong, deeply wrong inside her.
Her first kill made her feel whole. Finding another victim never became a problem in her profession. With her tits and ass she could crook a finger and they’d come running to the slaughter.
As she tied his hands to the headboard she told him about her other victims and what she would do to him. His heart leapt about in his chest like a heifer on a rope.
“I actually went to the cops more than once. They just stared at my tits.”
Drew a Non Sequitur stick.
“There you go making up lies again.”
“That’s what they told me the last time.”
It’s fun to walk in there, tell them what I did, and have them not care or believe me.
Ends second experiment.
Writing experiment #1
Two new books and The Writer’s Toolbox, time to see if I can jump start my writing. Using The Writer’s Toolbox today.
I drew one of the The First Sentence Sticks.
I was dressed in a completely inappropriate shade of pink.
I didn’t give an effing damn and I thought the stiletto heels and neon green, marabou feather boa were a good touch too.
My family didn’t want me at my Mother’s funeral, so I figured I’d shake them up. I had no fear and no regrets after what they did to me. They’d cut me off from her for years.
Who doesn’t tell a family member about their mother’s death and funeral until the night before when said person lives a thousand miles away? Thank the heavens my lover owned his own jet and they didn’t know about him. No one keeps Jimmy Flynn from his mother. I sucked in a chest popping breath and stepped out of the stretched limo.
End of first experiment.
Oh muse, wherefore art thou?
The writing well is still dry. I’m hoping things change soon. This is so frustrating.
I know…. breathe.
Sometimes it’s difficult to take my advice. Breathe some more.
I plan to drag out one writing book at a time and re-read them all. Maybe, among all those books, I will find inspiration and my muse who has gone into hiding.
Hesiod and the Muse (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Doggonedmysteries 