Words for the wise writer

"Close your eyes and think deeply. Then when you think deeply you can make up a story. Sometimes this even happens when your eyes are open."

--Neal Woodward

A wise, wise story writer, Neal is. He envisions his wildest most unique stories with his eyes shut and can make up some equally great ones with the eyes open. He told me this in the car today, I thought I needed to get to a pencil and paper right away before I forgot. Then I remembered my blog. My poor neglected blog. I want to write here and don't. I need to remember this is my writing tool, just like my journal.

I'll be back. After I shut my eyes. After I think deeply. I'll write.

The Eggplant of Murano

Excerpt from The Eggplant of Murano

When all hope has been lost, we find it. Off to the side, almost buried under the other larger, pricier, garish items, lies a small grouping of unwanted objects, mistakes made by the artist perhaps. I’m sure the Salesman doesn’t even know they are here. I’m positive he doesn’t want us to even walk into this section, but we do. Nestled together in a bowl are three or four glass vegetables. Tomato, zucchini, onion and an eggplant. They speak to us. We are drawn closer. They have been placed there like a magic key for us to unlock the door this of nightmare. We rush over, argue briefly.

“Tomato or eggplant, which one?”
“ Why not both?”
“No no, only one.”
“Did you see the price on that?”
“I don’t even want one, just grab it.”

We are approached one last time. We let him know what our purchase will be. His dissatisfaction is evident, we have toyed with him, wasted his time. He now wants us out. Considers a call to the glass mafia, but instead wraps our purchase and shows us the door.

Murano is quiet, kind of like the Cinderella of Venice. We walk the streets, cross the bridges; enter the open plazas alone, we seem to have the place to ourselves. With a brown paper package in hand, we dizzily wander looking for signs of life, looking for a refuge, a place to collapse and thank the stars above that we were spared and that our vacation will continue. We jump aboard a vaporetto (water taxi), pay our fare gratefully, and sit on the bench with others anticipating their re-entry to Venice. Safe and sound with our glass eggplant, we’ve all survived a day on Murano.

my first blog

Welcome to blogsville art fridgette. I'm happy to be here. Just testing this template out as a home for art work and writing. New to blogging, I'm not entirely sure what will go on in this realm.

On to the aesthetic sector of blogsville. Making this page dreamy.