Carnival reflections

What does the >language>place carnival mean to me? I think Michael Solender put it most succinctly when he described it as being about "belonging and connections". It is about linking up with people around the world who have at heart a love of language, and an expression of my admiration for people writing, living in a language not their own. I recognise that although I do not live in my native country, I am far from being fluent in Germany, my adopted country, in either language or culture. Sometimes language is all about barriers, and sometimes I am looking for barriers; this carnival helps me realise that I don't need to build them, that I can connect with people who have similar experiences.

Michelle Elvy is hosting edition #06 over at Glow Worm, with the theme "language and place on the edge" - I am hoping to have something to submit to her shortly - I have a piece in mind but need to check it out first ;)

I've returned from a three week trip to the USA, which has been virtually writing free, and felt the need to be creative again, so I put together a new page here in practice makes perfect to keep track of all the editions, before noticing that Dorothee has done the same thing! (here). Lets hope this kicks off some actual writing!

organised cous cous

water & grains
& herbs & spices
slurried in the bowl;
in the pan, sizzling
chicken & peppers
ready
for eating
at my desk
tomorrow

PC personalities

My laptop, at home, gateway to pleasing alternate realities and potentially to peer plaudits, to family and far-flung friends disappoints me infrequently.
It isn't the fault of my work pc, but it houses some personalities that actively irritate me, that little orange git still knows no better than to e-mail me with his ridiculous self justifications.  If only, if only a hat-pin would work, but I know his skin is so thick that there is no room in his body for bones, organs.

on observance.

The river finally burst it's banks today.  It has been threatening for a couple of weeks, the black water (it is almost always night time when I cross the bridge) flirting with the snow, but with the last two days of rain, it finally happened when the ground had lost it's pale shroud.  Palely glimmering puddles had spilled onto the adjoining fields, their shade missed matching that of the metallic navy car in front of me by the thickness of a page.


I checked all these things because of my inability to observe & regurgitate in today's corporate workshop.  Perhaps because I had to digest information aurally, or whether the consultant/trainer's Texas drawl and lack of cultural awareness set me off, I was scratchy and irritated most of the afternoon.  Hey, at least I wasn't nodding off!  I picked fault with the statements she made and whispered under my breath to colleagues when she was talking, so I guess she was equally as resentful of my presence as I was, and it was no surprise that she picked me for the final role play of the day.  I dazzled the room with my consummate performance of a concerned manager.


Hoping to avoid yet more beautiful visual descriptions for today's small stone, all I can come up with is:-


Arrogant,
chrysalis skin splits
not a mocking butterfly
but a consummate
actress emerges.

an ordinary week...

The lady's body has fallen off the toilet door, she is only a round circle, a head.  Inside there is a new hand dryer, powerful but smelling of vacuum cleaners, call me a Luddite but I'm gonna stick with the paper towels.  My skin still smells of chlorine.  When I left at dawn for the swimming pool a right-angled green caterpillar was sitting on my windscreen wiper.  How did he get so lost?  Why would a caterpillar sit on my car in an underground garage when the grass is burgeoning, the rhododendrons are flowering.  What made him leave his caterpillar hatchlings, the happy brood Apple, Core, Skin, Pip, Husk and the others, to end up in this sterile place?  I mentioned this to the man I was drinking with, we were born in the same hospital, perhaps the same bed; he thought I was drunk and went back to talking about music.  My fingers typed, computer programming, e-mails, oh some fun e-mails, and now this, the bulletin of my week.  My head is not a round circle but a maelstrom, incoherent today.


Inspired by ThinkingTen Members Pick here

House of Escher

The wait was finally over. The shift was finally over. Another gruelling 8hrs , if not quite at the coalface then pretty fucking close. Back breaking work. Moving the products from A to B, from B to C, C to D, well, you get the picture. And yes you felt like you were moving in circles, but why the hell did it always seem to be uphill too? The sweat seeps down as you move and toil, like a nappy rash in an adult, how pleasant. Stubbed fingers, scraped knuckles. But now the wait was over, the reward in sight...



and if you're interested in the work/reward payoff, here's a link to the advert that came into my mind when I read the opening sentence!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eb7y2VKfgHY

Posted at ThinkingTen in response to Take it Away challenge http://thinkingten.ning.com/profiles/blogs/house-of-escher