Aoede (redux)

See?  I promised I would get the post out today.  I keep my writing promises.


~*~*~


"So," Rhea said as she flounced in, "let's see this song you've been working on!  I'm dying to read it.  You always used to write nice songs.  And it's been a shame you haven't been doing so lately.  So come on, hand it over."


Jane laughed and walked over to the kitchen.  "Would you like something to drink?  I can offer wine or something harder.  Or water, if you prefer that right now."


Rhea shucked off her jacket and hung it up on the coat rack.  "A glass of red wine would be wonderful, if you have any."  She plunked herself down on the love seat in front of the TV and stretched out, groaning.  "Man, things have been so stressful lately.  Which brings me around to... what have you been into that you haven't been writing?  I mean, you used to do it so religiously!"


Taking a bottle from the fridge, Jane sighed.  "I don't know what's gotten into me.  I just haven't been inspired by anything.  It's like the worst form of writer's block.  If I did try to write something, it was like drinking cod liver oil!  It was horrid, or at least I thought it was horrid."  She poured the red into a small wine glass.  "I can't really describe it better than that.  It was the block and then a total lack of desire to write because I didn't want to produce crap.  And no, my musical compositions weren't any better."


Nodding, Rhea accepted the glass from her friend.  "I guess I can understand that.  I've never felt it, but it makes sense."  She sipped it and smiled appreciatively.  "And excellent taste in wine.  NOW!" She straightened up.  "Song lyrics.  I must see them right this instant."


"Well..." Jane hedged, ambling over to the kitchen table and picking up her notebook, "it's not finished.  Far from it.  And don't laugh, either.  These are really just an outline."


"Bah!  Excuses.  Hand it over!"  Jane sighed, but walked back and held out the paper.  Rhea took it, taking another sip from her glass.  She then set her glass on the table and leaned to rest her elbows on her knees.


"The earth quivers
But even in its fear
It cannot hide itself
From the scouring wind and rain
Which strip away the hope of new life


A sweeping expanse of barren earth
A fallow field waiting
For the rain that doesn't come
It's flowers waiting to grow


The field stands waiting
The waters start rising
And the flood waters flow

The distant horizon is an orange haze
Burning with a cleansing fire
Destroying and renewing
Waking the land for the coming water."  Rhea smiled.  "Wow!  I really like it!  This is an awesome start and I really like where it can go.  Lots of symbolism.  But There's a lot more you can do with it."


~*~*~


So, I finally put all the parts of the song that I wrote into one place.  Feels good to have it organized.  Now I just need to finish the song.  I'll probably describe Rhea in the next post.  I haven't really had a chance to visualize her yet.

Aoede

Sorry for the non-update guys.  It was a bad day at work, so I just curled up and avoided the real world by playing WoW.  And yes, alas, doing this is part of my real world. lol

Anyway, I promise I'll make up the update today after work, regardless of what kind of day I have.

See you guys later!

The Response

Dear Miss,
I read your letter and I would like to say
Being a guy is not all fun and games.
Guys have to always be fit and buff
So we can prove our masculinity or be attractive
To the fairer sex.
We have to wear the perfect cologne so we always smell nice.
We have to balance being strong with being sensitive.
Do you know how hard that is, knowing when to comfort
And when to get all cute and defensive?
We have to constantly "prove" ourselves in all these
LITTLE ways.
And we always get blamed for being immature,
regardless of how we act.
Those hormones we have raging through us,
from puberty on out, makes us prone to stupidity.
Our sex drive is a double-edged sword!
So, Miss, it really isn't easy being a guy.

Alright, I know.  It's not the best possible response I could have written.  But you'll have to excuse my not being a guy, eh?  :D

She saved my life and I hated her for it.   I didn't really want to die.  And I didn't really feel like living.  I was just floating along, lost in the haze of my life.  Then she walked into my life and everything changed.  And if I seem bitter, it's because I am.  It wasn't any sort of instant attraction.  I don't even love her.  She certainly doesn't love me.  You could probably argue that, before her, my life was a downward spiral.  Somehow she managed to badger me into doing something productive.  And it all started with a swift kick in my ass.

As he sat huddled by the fire, shivering in his totally inadequate windbreaker, Frank wondered, once again, why he'd let his friends talk him into such a hairbrained scheme.  He was cold and he was cranky and he was the only one awake.  Hell, he was the only one who even seemed to have a problem with their current situation.  "We'll be fine!" they said.  "It's nice out, we'll be plenty warm at night," they said.  "We don't need any gear, we'll live off the land," they said. It was day 3, no food and no gear.  The only reason there was fire was because Frank remembered how to make it from his days in Boy Scouts.  "I'm never letting them talk me into this woodsy, camping, creature hunting crap again!" he muttered, jabbing his stick into the fire viciously.


Okay, so I admit, I honestly hadn't thought about what I wanted to write for either of those.  I think the first came out better than the second.  But a valiant effort for both, in my opinion.

Frantic Friday

I'm scrambling for purchase as my weekend slips from me.

April 17

As he sat huddled by the fire, shivering in his totally inadequate windbreaker, Frank wondered, once again, why he’d let his friends talk him into such a hairbrained scheme.

April 18

Staring up at the sky, she hoped, briefly, that someone would come and whisk her away to a place where she could be who and what she wanted to be.

April 19

She saved my life and I hated her for it.

April 20

I don’t know what it is about him but, no matter how much I try to resist, he can seduce me with a smile.

April 21

I have ever been about self-control and now I find myself in a position where control is taken from me.

April 22

Here at Syndicated Incorporated, we promise to rerun only your least favorite shows with as many commercial interruptions as we possibly can.

April 23

The call me the saboteur.




Tell me your choices, dear readers!  I eagerly await them.  Be interesting to see which ones you guys like.

Aoede

I fear this may be an extremely short post.  I'm waiting for a raid to fill up and... I honestly don't feel that creative right now.  BUT!  It's Wed and I much write something.  I will not give up my schedule so soon.

~*~*~*~

Jane switched the phone to her other ear, chewing on a hangnail on her thumb.  "I don't know what it is, Rhea.  She claims she's some sort of ancient Greek goddess of inspiration!  I know, it sounds laughable.  But since I talked to her, I've kinda felt like writing.  So I don't really know what to think."

"Whatever it is, it sounds like something good.  I wouldn't worry about it.  I mean, it can't hurt to just go with the flow, right?"  Rhea's voice was made slightly tinny by the phone.

"I guess you're right.  Hey, you wanna come over and hang out for a bit?  We haven't seen each other in a while.  Maybe you can help me flesh out this song and write some music for it.  I've always appreciated your input."

"Um... yeah, sure.  I've got a few hours free.  I'll be right over. See ya soon."  The line went dead as Rhea hung up.  Smiling, Jane closed her cell and tucked it into her pocket.  It had been a day since she wrote the refrain and second verse.  She still felt like writing, but didn't want to rush it.  Go with the flow, but don't put out crap, she supposed.

-------

Aoede stared at the ceiling of her room.  It was painted a midnight blue, complimenting the colors on the walls.  As she stared, in her imagination, stars and galaxies whirled across the expanse of her ceiling.  The dance of the cosmos was something she missed keenly, but there was always a world of things to explore on Earth.  Sitting up, she reached for the brush on her bedside stand, ran it through her hair, and tied it back in a tail.  With the thick locks pulled off her face, her striking features were more clear.  And those features looked pensive at the moment.

Where are you... why did you stop coming?... Thanks for... Something to write... Haven't in so long...


Snippets of thoughts, directed at her or about her flooded her mind.  All people she looked over.  She couldn't visit all of them all the time, but she did her best.



Eh, a shitty place to end it, but see beginning of post.

Dear Sir

Today's poem will be part one of two.  Letter poems, if you wish to describe them as such.  Don't know where they'll take me.  But I go where they will.


Dear sir,
I would like to inform you that it is,
In fact,
Incredibly difficult to be a woman.  You men
You have it so easy.  You don't have to worry
about things like the right perfume, perfectly applied make-up, appealingly plump lips,
batting eyelashes, keeping trim because thin is always in, having perky breasts,
fitting into dresses, or a million other things.
Or proving that you have a brain behind the bombshell exterior, that you have business savvy
And can make a profit.  There's no glass ceiling for you, no sir.
There's no need for you to prove that you're more than a vapid, simpering
pile of womanly nerves and flighty thoughts.
You don't have to be demure or "ladylike."
In fact, you get laughs when you... expel gas from either end.
Nor do you have to censor your thoughts so that people will accept you
in "polite society."
So, please, sir, tell me.  Just how have you managed to get it so easy?


And now for those paragraphs you've all been waiting for!  I'm opting for two this time.


"No matter how long you know someone, they always have a secret.  That's my experience at least.  I remember Libby."  My cigarette glowed a dull red-orange in the night.  "We knew each other for years.  She was a quiet thing, soft-spoken and dainty.  She trusted too easily, but walked through life with more personal joy than anyone I ever knew.  It was a facade only.  The face she showed to the public and to her friends, no matter what was going on with her life.
"They say it's always the quiet ones, ya know?  I know what you're thinking," I said softly, taking a drag from the cig in my hand.  "This isn't some tale of a depressed woman who wants nothing more than to die.  No, as I said, Libby was full of joy.  Nor is it some tale of pining for lost love.  As long as I knew her, she never dated anyone, never even expressed interest in someone and she had a few suitors.
"No, you see, it may not seem shocking out of context, but Libby was the owner of an upscale fetish club.  Demure office worker by day, slinky vixen by night.  A secret, of course.  And not the first, or only one she had.  Ah, but this may just seem like I'm rambling to you.  But she is only one example.  We all have secrets, you and I.  Dark little corners so covered in locks and cobwebs even we're afraid to open them to the light."  I laughed, a bitter sound.


Okay, that was a bit long.  It's not initially where I was going to take it, but I rather like the direction it went.  Comments are appreciated, as always!


I have never been able to find a place in my house where I can curl up with a good book, a drink, and some music and not be found.  It's a small house.  Just enough room for us.  But is has no secrets.  No way to lock the door and tune out the sound.  It has acoustics good enough to hear shouting just about anywhere.  And this lack of privacy grinds away, day after day after day.  It's like being in public every moment of your life, no place to unwind and relax or cool off after a fight.  People just barging in and out.  I'm not sick of it, exactly, but I do wish there was something more I could do.  Parents coming to ask me what I'm doing.  A brother who sees fit to be a constant thorn in my side.  Oh yes, I wish there was something more I could do.


Meh.  That was mediocre at best.  It's a good sentence, but just not one that I felt was easy to expand, ya know?

Fantastic Friday

It's Friday and that can only mean one thing!  I offer my humble sentences and YOU choose a some for me to turn into glorious paragraphs.

April 10

No matter how long you know someone, they always have a secret.

April 11

Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes.

April 12

I have never been able to find a place in my house where I can curl up with a good book, a drink, and some music and not be found.

April 13

I could have done better if I shat on my hand and spread it on paper!

April 14

Hooded sweatshirts are a blessing and a curse, but only if you use them right.

April 15

It is important to understand the difference between sex and gender.

April 16

“Baby, you’re the BD to my SM.”

Shakespeare was right when he called it a tale told by an idiot.

You’re all about tension and I’m nothing but flexion.




Today has three sentences because I just couldn't bear to break those three up.  I wrote them today at work and just loved all of them.


I eagerly await your sentence verdict. (I'm working OT tomorrow, so definitely won't get them tom but I'll try to have 'em done before the weekend is over.)