Life Happening

Somewhere a man clicks through rejections while assuring his family that things will be OK. He spends his time over coffee getting his unemployment done for another week and wonders when it will stop.

A woman steps off the curb and just misses the cracks below her feet. A blackbird stops chirping just as the garbage truck stops for another pick up. A child is pulled behind a fence slamming the gate into more silence.

We were told not to leave today or the next day or even the next week. We were told to shelter in place. We were told it was pandemic time. Time to sweep over the land where people die, or get sick, protest, or riot.

It is hard to breathe. My reflection is aging. I can’t swallow. I am white.

Johnny began screaming from his crib right at midnight. Linda had just finished the dishes and poured a glass of wine to unwind and look at the news to see what day it is. I went to him.

Pressures from the outside were closing in, becoming heavy. Simple daily tasks could count the steps into averages to squeeze just a little more time. There is an energy present that carries a lot of weight like depression.

Shame for being.

The spider’s web now spans across all of the rafters. Maybe a commune. A ship has slowly entered into view, having floated the first set of locks. Cabbage moths are the new enemy in this isolated state.

 

 

 

Published by darren thompson

hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: vomitpages.com which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks.

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