journaling about my trip to London

 

 

 

 

 

Listening to Bebo-a hindi song, i remember that I can hold the feeling of London in my hands and how much love for myself...I had during that time, an how enjoyable it really was...and how i walked through the streets by myself knowing that I could make anything at all happen and my trust in God at times, was so surreal there, I kept looking in the mirror and reminding myself of the kid inside of me and everything I want for my life, and how if I keep on praying,....I truly will make those things happen and there would be absolutely no doubt in my mind.  From there you could see the mosque. from the shrubs...some more architecture where people sat.   Shrubs and more shrubs...random soccer fields, and walkways everywhere a storage space.  Your beautiful that day, a great star with your portrait and you straighten hair and sharp features.....your creating your own model look..

houses are brick and yellow, same, white hinges,..You took a risk, so you could write early morning,  so you could see those thin bridges and that long expanse of the Thames..with its weeping willow trees..they say the houses there are close together..they are close because they have to be which means that landlords have to raise the rent and try to squeeze as many rooms they can into one house...

 

Continuation8 of her momma makes it better

A thought occurs to her Momma will be upset, once she finds out I went through the window well to get inside the house. She might even take a spatula to my behind for not telling her the window screen was broken. Huffy sits down on the basement floor, her knees arched upwards and she wraps her hands around them, listening to the sounds upstairs.  If she could pinpoint the exact room her mother was in, she could make her way upstairs without her mother noticing that she broke into the basement.  If only she’d move around a bit, I could find out where she is, she thought. She sat a couple more seconds listening and then shouts out "There!" looking up at the ceiling's left corner floor board. The floor board was four feet above her dad's tool table, next to the rolling red tool set and assorted containers of nuts and bolts, drill sets and other gadgets Huffy had no use for.

New Continuation of the Compulsive Stealer

New Continuation of the Compulsive Stealer 
 "Last night three cars were uncovered in relationship to three different victims.  The makes and models are listed below along with their pictures.  If anyone knows about any of these cars, please call your local police station."  
Gray looked at the TV and stared down at the remote.  Inside his home, the temperature rose to 95.6 degrees and the with no extra money for the electric bill, he didn't want to turn on the AC.  Instead he took refuge in the basement, a damp, dark dungeon.  His closet sized space caught between the water heater and the laundry room.  The laundry room brimming with leftover wall installation, baskets of moldy clothes and pillows, along with various items reminiscent of tenants who used his duplex as a drop off zone for unwanted items.  They left in their haste to leave his home.  Gary didn't wake up this early in the morning, he worked second shift and his late night hours were spent internet chatting with women with chat names like MrsDrWho and FranShepherd. His latest exploration included time spent in vampire and Shakespearean literature rooms. 
He woke up because he heard a dozen or so mice skedaddling across the plaster ceiling in their game of freeze tag.  Realizing he left his TV on, the gray blue screen being the only light shining into the room.  The newscaster's sing song voice made him restless, he overheard bits and pieces of the news.  North Minneapolis seemed to be a melting pot for hodge podge crimes, mostly theft and homicides.  But this year alone broke records, every other day left a news story on crime that no longer stunned audiences but left them passive and neutral towards crime suspects. 

journaling

When I sit in book club, I make proclamations that open the world up to further question and debate, I initialize a conversation that will lay siege to future opportunities, I am the one who starts the debate and adds to it a thousand and one more twists on one thread of conversation.  Did I know that I had this skill, although I am still quite illiterate in prolonging a solid conversation, and give my own knowledge on the issues for 2 even 5 minutes at a time, quite surely my experience as a teacher will only add to my experience as an orator, forcing me to speak, forcing me to expand on knowledge, where I am the only one in the room with such quite authority on any given topic, for I AM the Teacher.

Continuation7 of Her Momma makes it better

Continuation7 of Her Momma makes it better

Steadily making her way up the stairs, she twisted the doors handle only to notice it wouldn't budge.  It must have been locked by father last night, she thought.  Her father baby- proofed the house two months ago on the onset of Huffy's newest foster baby, Shama, coming to live with them.  The whole house had safety measures in place from gates that bridged off every entry way to all rooms in the house, to white safety     on cupboards doors and basically every hinge in the home.  Huffy hit the door in anger then realized her mistake, and covered her hand over the place she hit, walking down the stairs at the same steady place, meticulously placing her feet so as to not hit the creaky floor boards beneath her.  If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to make herself invisible and in this case unheard.  She took a chair and made her way up out  of the house from the window well.

Continuation5 Her momma makes it better

 Continuation5 Her momma makes it better
“So you're in dad's room," she whispered, like a villain about to get its victim.  "Stay right there, would you."  With her mother in this corner of the house, she could gain access to the basement stairs and make her way up to the kitchen.  But what would she do once she got there?  Would she brigade her mother once again for the Robert Redford recipe?  Would she be locked up in another room of the house?  Out of sight and out of mind, by her mother, who was most likely calling sponsors for the Cub Scout fundraiser.  She didn't have time to figure out her next position.  She made her way up the stairs, hoping to gain access to the kitchen where her mother left her.

Continuation4 of Her Mamma Makes it Better

Continuation4 of Her Mamma Makes it Better

"But Ma-I'm going to need the recipe to Robert Redford."  She accented the D's in Redford, pursing her lips at the end hoping to get her mother's attention in her newest interest in Robert Redford, although she had no idea who he was. 
Getting inside the home didn't make her worry.  Her mother would be upset with we she found out that Huffy went through the window well in order to get inside. She might even take a wooden spatula to Huffy's behind, for not telling her the screen was broken in the first place, so Huffy sat down on the basement floor her knees arched up and her hands wrapped around them, listening to the sounds upstairs.  She could pinpoint the exact room her mother was in, if she could hear the sound of  feet moving.  If she'd move around a bit more.  She thought.  "There!" she said excitedly to no one, looking up at the ceiling's left floor board. The floor board sat four feet below her dad's tool table, the one with the red    tool set and his assorted containers of nuts and bolts, drill sets and other gadgets Huffy had no use for.
 

Continuation3 of Her Mamma Makes it Better

Continuation3 of Her Mamma Makes it Better

“Mom, I need that recipe.”  Huffy states while stammering her feet.  She takes a piece of hair in her mouth and yells once again “Mom, I need that recipe.”  Her mother balances the wireless phone on her shoulder, pushing her daughter away, in-gloving her face with her right hand, while pushing her inside the door way, locking her inside the kitchen.  Her mother’s on the phone with an egg yolk shampoo company to see if they’ll sponsor a few products for her son’s cub scout fund raiser.  Being behind the locked door doesn't stop Huffy, from continuing her mantra, "I need that recipe, I need that recipe."  She bangs the door viciously rattling the wood against the door frames.  "Mom, I know you hear me! I need that recipe." Her mother's fast pace decision making is not lost on Huffy who knocks on the door three times before crossing the kitchen in order to access to the door that leads to the backyard.  She runs across the backyard's deck, slowly making her way to the side of the house, jumping up to look through several of the living room windows to capture what she hopes will be her mother in the living room.  She's not here.  She thinks to herself.  She looks up at the blue awning observing it for the first time, trying to think of an idea to gain access to the area of the house where her mother is.