Thoughts go racing wildly around my brain nameless horrors that painfully sear into my memory so filled with pain heart fluttering with anxiety and fear loneliness aches, cry a single tear. I must somehow carry on, be brave find the sun and from darkness I must save joy that was mine before the nights grew cold merry songs not dirges sung before the grave evenings warm and gay, stars bright and bold.
Hello, my name is JP and I’m a serial of Tsundokuist. What the heck is that? Glad you asked. From our good friends at Wikipedia:
Tsundoku (Japanese: 積ん読) is acquiring reading materials but letting them pile up in one’s home without reading them.
I read a quote somewhere, sometime ago that one of the greatest treasures of life if a pile of unread books. Oh I agree! When I was a child, I read constantly and adored it. From my mid-teens until my mid thirties, I read mostly “study” stuff. Self help, self improvement, philosophy, religion, with the occasional smut um er, I mean romance novel thrown in for good measure. I enjoyed reading for knowledge but I had forgotten the pure delight of reading just for the fun of it.Continue reading “Confessions of a serial Tsundokuist”→
Queenstown is the Extreme Sports capital of New Zealand, probably of the world. Name an extreme sport and chances are if it’s not readily available, they can arrange it for you. So what do two, non-sports (much less extreme sports) oriented older people do in Queenstown? We’ve taken the bus into “The Remarkables” shopping area, wandered the town’s back streets and lakeside neighborhoods. We’ve walked along the lake and stopped for tea and scones at a wonderful little coffee shop or two. Been revitalized at the Hilton’s wonderful spa. For our final day of wanderings, we set back across Lake Wakatipu to the Queenstown docks and the Queenstown Gardens.Continue reading “Wide Eyed Wanderings — Queenstown Gardens, New Zealand”→
Many thanks to John Holton for today’s prompt: Inch
My writing exercise for today:
“Write a 100 word story about a single moment, a conversation at breakfast, a personal decision, an interaction with a stranger. Any single moment focus on the detail of that moment.”
Inch by Inch
Step by step, inch by inch, she crept closer. The moment between one foot coming down soundlessly in front of the other. Her breath was quiet and still. Tiny sounds came to her from the alleyway. A mouse skittering to it’s hole, a moth mindlessly bumping against the globe of the street lamp, the sounds of people coming and going, living and breathing; out of sight on the other side of the darkness. Shadows moved across the ground, clouds passing over the moon high in the sky as her eyes adjusted to the deep gloom of the alley. She waited.