What kind of style is this?
Got something to share? Whether it's writing or art, you'll fit right in. Come on, join us. This is like our own personal club to inspire, give feedback on your manuscript or work of art. Creativity is a process.
Friday, January 31, 2020
Everything is Art
Everything we see or do is art, whether it is writing, painting, crafting, sculpture, playwrighting
and how we interpret it. Our creative group is awesome. If we made you smile or take a break from your hectic week, we did our job. Some of us do both writing and art because we couldn't just pick a hill. They compliment each other.
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Thursday, January 30, 2020
Nature Trail In The Rain
This is a sort of dreamy rendition of a photo I took on a local jogging trail. It winds 3 miles around a golf course. Since everything is a little blurred by the wetness, I captured that with rapid strokes and wet-on-wet blends. During a downpour, I sheltered in a gazebo until deciding it wasn't going to stop. So I took off running toward the parking lot and got good and soaked. No sooner did I arrive than it was suddenly blue skies. Moral: good things come to those who wait.
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
The Eyes Have It
Ed rose early, taking advantage of this weekend break from the show's filming schedule. The three-bedroom condo hosted two others: the dwarf Hecabano and the show's diva, Wicca. It was bedroom shoes only on the plush white carpet, a rule even the mercurial hostess followed, though her choice of TV viewing was a little odd.
"A soap," Ed said. "The queen of the Goths is watching a soap. Are you channeling June Cleaver again?"
She didn't turn around from her cross-legged position on the floor. "That was a foray to Nerdsville just to see what it's like being you two."
Hecabano clipped some fast-food coupons. "We fail to see the connection with soaps, Heiress of Hammered."
"It's the eyes. When you get close, you can only look into one at a time. These women look from one to the other like there's going to be a difference."
"Perhaps," the dwarf opined, "they attempt to chase the truth round and round."
Ed eased into a recliner. "Reminds me of a psych class in college. The professor had us pair off--naturally I got a guy--and lock gazes. He finally had to tell us what the heck we were looking for. If you focus on a single point long enough, the eye shifts involuntarily because that spot on the macula gets fatigued. We never saw it, since nobody wanted to hypnotize each other."
"Yes," Hecabano prompted, "but you mentioned this later to a sociology teacher who decided to duplicate the experiment.."
"That she did. This time I got a girl with green eyes who stared me into the ground."
Wicca twisted around. "There's no magic duck, Consuela."
"Okay," Ed began. "A number of problems here. I think you mean magic bullet."
"No--that thing that laid a golden egg."
"In any case," Ed countered, "I'm not Hispanic, nor am I on that side of the gender fence."
Wicca leaned toward the dwarf. "This bloke is touchy, isn't he."
Ed squinted. "You're jumping into Cockney now?"
"Whatever that is," Wicca said. "I'm sampling all I can of this world before you clowns blow it away."
Hecabano sorted his coupons. "We have not yet solved the question of which eye to use."
"I have it!" Wicca jumped up and went nose to nose with Ed. "Look through the other person, so your eyes move apart and line up with their opposites--except for being blurred."
"Or this," Hecabano offered. "Look between them at the bridge of the nose."
Ed eased Wicca off to arm's length. "I suggested that to Miss Green Eyes, but the sociology teacher heard me and said, 'Nope! You have to look at the eyes!' "
"Which one?" Wicca asked.
Ed sighed. "I think this is where we came in."
"A soap," Ed said. "The queen of the Goths is watching a soap. Are you channeling June Cleaver again?"
She didn't turn around from her cross-legged position on the floor. "That was a foray to Nerdsville just to see what it's like being you two."
Hecabano clipped some fast-food coupons. "We fail to see the connection with soaps, Heiress of Hammered."
"It's the eyes. When you get close, you can only look into one at a time. These women look from one to the other like there's going to be a difference."
"Perhaps," the dwarf opined, "they attempt to chase the truth round and round."
Ed eased into a recliner. "Reminds me of a psych class in college. The professor had us pair off--naturally I got a guy--and lock gazes. He finally had to tell us what the heck we were looking for. If you focus on a single point long enough, the eye shifts involuntarily because that spot on the macula gets fatigued. We never saw it, since nobody wanted to hypnotize each other."
"Yes," Hecabano prompted, "but you mentioned this later to a sociology teacher who decided to duplicate the experiment.."
"That she did. This time I got a girl with green eyes who stared me into the ground."
Wicca twisted around. "There's no magic duck, Consuela."
"Okay," Ed began. "A number of problems here. I think you mean magic bullet."
"No--that thing that laid a golden egg."
"In any case," Ed countered, "I'm not Hispanic, nor am I on that side of the gender fence."
Wicca leaned toward the dwarf. "This bloke is touchy, isn't he."
Ed squinted. "You're jumping into Cockney now?"
"Whatever that is," Wicca said. "I'm sampling all I can of this world before you clowns blow it away."
Hecabano sorted his coupons. "We have not yet solved the question of which eye to use."
"I have it!" Wicca jumped up and went nose to nose with Ed. "Look through the other person, so your eyes move apart and line up with their opposites--except for being blurred."
"Or this," Hecabano offered. "Look between them at the bridge of the nose."
Ed eased Wicca off to arm's length. "I suggested that to Miss Green Eyes, but the sociology teacher heard me and said, 'Nope! You have to look at the eyes!' "
"Which one?" Wicca asked.
Ed sighed. "I think this is where we came in."
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