Saturday, 5 October 2013

STOLEN MOMENTS FROM SEPTEMBER ENDS

For the first time in my life, I cannot choose which excerpts to show you. I loved everything in this book so much, that I fear I might end up copying the whole book on here!! BUT I won't.

Even though this intelligent book incorporated so many writing techniques and genres, it flowed effortlessly.
 
Here is how the book starts:


DIARY ENTRY
 
Liz Snow

Nashville, Tennessee
 
May 1993  You didn’t know what hit us, did you? You were there. You were gone. I wonder every day how my life would be now if you were still alive, Charles. I can still see your face turning to me. I can hear myself saying, "Keep your eyes on the road!" You and your sunsets! You just had to stop for that sunset. I loved the way you loved nature. A month of rain. And then that double rainbow.

"One for you, Liz, and one for me." I can still hear your voice, Charles. "The sun’s come out for us, little sis. The least we can do is stop and admire Tennessee smiling." Okay, so I just stood there smoking a joint as you communed with nature.

You were so cool, the way you loved everything about the Sequatchie Valley. We had decided to drive across the state line into Tennessee from the farm in Georgia - following rainbows. We drove the back roads. After the rain, the valley was vibrant lush, so alive. Mimosa trees and magnolias formed a rich canopy throughout the rugged mountain terrain and feathered the mountain’s rugged shoulders. We rolled the windows down. The scent of humidity mingled with the fragrance of the plants. We stopped at one of the overlooks for a while just to drink in the beauty and savagery of the area. The distant warble of the whippoorwills, the background whisper of rushing waterfalls, and the unconditional beauty of the unspoiled scenery created a visual and aural utopia for your union with nature. One I will never forget.

It was fast. It was slow.

A Poem from the book

O CRUTCH OF CHOICE
My little loves I cast away
To live pill free's my firm intent
To feel life's fullness my hot bent
And so sick clutch, away! away!
I flush you from my life this day
 
The choice was never mine to take
To make my life this shallow fake
They neutered me without my say
I'd rather die than live this way
A slavish pharma-ceutic clone
A clone! a clone! all answers known
Constrained forever cast in clay
Come versing life in all your hues!
Prose tramelled content I re fuse
.
by Jack O Savage
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Excerpt 

 
He stole up the stairs of his borrowed tower in the heart of London, the mercenary pulse of The City beating all around as it had for centuries. Big Tom, the St. Paul's Cathedral clock, tolled 9 a.m. The Tower's smoked glass and brushed steel interior irritated him with its prosaic perfectionism. He tried to hide his thoughts lest said tower read them and disapproved. Nice tower, phallic tower, power tower, woman wower, dour tower.

He smiled to find her still there, still asleep, her Botticelli yellow hair in Venus riot all around her anti-steel, anti-glass face. She raised her hands to her lips, sighed. He bent his face towards hers as if to kiss her awake, hesitated as a bead of sweat poetic splashed onto the black sofa's skin of super soft Italian leather. "Perchance I have a reason to shave," he thought, straightening up to his full height and stepping back to admire her the more.

The Tower set his shower running at his approach. It knew, programmed to perfection. Shaving cream streamed down his plank of a body. His thoughts wandered. "Gimme a thousand syllables, on your knuckles, boy." He faced his swinging nakedness in the mirrors all around, his thousand-word stare disturbing him with its primal intensity. He smiled. But his smile was fake. He shook his head and smiled at his idiocy.
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Excerpt
 
That day, the sun shone on us and we were golden as we kissed to seal our vows. I still remember hearing the soft chimes formed by the warm breeze that blew through the garden as you kissed me. You in your tailored Italian suit, that bowler hat, and that ridiculous paisley purple violet tie from a charity shop! My poet prince. And the local paper gets the scoop of its life. Thank you, Jack, for sticking with your promise that our life was going to be as private as you could make it. You kept your word. Yes, you'd done with performing before you met me. I caught you at just the right time, didn't I? Or, as you always said, you caught me and you caught me by surprise with a kiss at a pig farm! It was actually a county fair, but who was I to contradict The Poet and one of your stories?

So many shared moments of laughter and love. Where will I possibly begin, Diary? Maybe, last Christmas? It was the most magical Christmas of my life, the things you did for Zelda, the way you protected her from what was coming.