How I Suffer for My Art

Dang! How do I get myself into these things? After having taken about a five-year hiatus from writing dorky magazine articles, I received an email from the editor of a local magazine last night.

Hi,

You still "in the biz?" :) I have a quick story with a health angle (nutrition and skin), complete with list of 2-3 experts to call ready to go... About 800 words... Due Thursdayish? Pay is 12c per word. Probably wouldn't take you any time at all.

Let me know if you are interested.

Thanks,

T. Editur

A hundred bucks? Sure. Why not? Right? So I tell her yeah.

She writes me back:

Great! Here's the angle: With so much talk about how to improve our looks on the outside, what do these experts suggest as far as improving our looks (age/skin, etc.) from the inside? Nutrition, supplements, particular food, sleep, diet, excercise, ??? Heavy on the quotes, with a credibility statement (short, i.e. Dr. Whitehead, a dermatologist with 20 years experience,...) for each...

Here's the contact list:

Dr. Whitehead's Dermatology - 555-3686

The Bottom Line -- Health - 555-2900 , Kathy Krabs

Inze Black of Sagacious (she might not "fit" - she is a natural store that sells pure aromatherapy stuff, etc. - however, if "stress" is an angle, it might fit well. ). cell: 555-5989

Thanks for the last-minute assistance!

T. Editur

Piece of cake. Right? Ahem. I just shot off the following to my editor:

Tee,

Holy crap! Wait. Maybe I should rephrase that. I shoulda asked you what The Bottom Line -- Health was. I just interviewed Kathy Krabs and started out by saying, "Now, Kathy, first please tell me what is it you do and what The Bottom Line -- Health is, because I'm not familiar with it and want to make sure I get everything right."

I'm all poised with my nifty little pen and my notebook.

"She says, "Well, I'm a certified colon hydrotherapist and I've been doing this for a little over nine years, and..."

"Waiddaminnit. You're a what?"

"A certified colon hydrotherapist."

"Oh! Okay. I thought that was what you said, but wanted to make sure." (snicker)

Then she told me all about it and ambushes me with, "What are you doing tomorrow at 11 o'clock?"

Think! Think! Think! Damn. I couldn't think fast enough.

"Um, uh....nothing?"

"Oh, great! Then I insist you come in tomorrow for a complimentary session."

"Um, but you know, my husband? He's got irritable bowel syndro....."

(Yes, I know. That was an evil thing to try.)

"Forget your husband," she says. "I want you to come in and have a session. That way, you'll be able to write about it better."

Egad! I knew writing articles could be a pain in the... Wait. Let me rephrase that.

So, Tee... Heh.... Do I get combat pay for this? Just kidding.

I'll let you know how it all comes out tomorrow.

Waiddaminnit.....let me rephrase that.

me

So then my husband says, "Hey! don't you have an appointment with Dr. Baba tomorrow?"

"D'oh! Yeah!"

So when Kathy Krabs calls me back to finalize the appointment, I say, "Um, hey. How long is this gonna take? Because I just remembered I have an appointment at noon tomorrow."

"Ohhhhh, dear. It takes at least an hour and a half. Is it something you can cancel?"

Big Sigh of Relief. Shew!

"Nope. Sorry. No can do. See, it's with my shrink and if I miss it I have to pay for the missed session. $400 an hour and all, you know?

(Before you ask, heck no I don't pay my shrink that kinda money.)

"Oh, well."

Heh, heh, heh. I'm all proud of myself for shagging outta that one when she says, "But, hey! I could squeeze you in at 3 p.m. How about that?"

Dang! Did she have to word it that way? I was so shocked, all I could manage was, "Um, uh, yeah. Sure."

"I'm so excited," she says. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah," I laughed right out loud. "I can hardly wait."

Toopid! Toopid! Toopid! I've GOT to learn to think on my feet better than this.

My first inkling was a sound of wings,
Heavy, beating the air so close by that I ducked,
Afraid that dragons might be searching.

But it was only a crow, one sole sleek
Messenger flying low so as to whisper
With its wings.  Whisperings.  Of what?

Then a delicate tick, tick, tick.  What is that?
Time to flee, it said.  Time to turn and run.

Then it grew dark and loud -- a crowd
Of raucous birds, red splashes on jetblack wings
Like chevrons, epaulettes on minions in the sky,
All screaming a single mantra, *Why? Why? Why?*

And then a ping, like the string of a guitar
Strung too tight, and I felt a sting in my
Leg and fell, too late. Too late to turn back now.

The Hiss of Fall

The sussurus of fall slides

through treetops’ shushing

answer to the distant stars

The twinkle static radio

of new beginnings’ endings

and the start of things

Not yet begun

A white sound spun from

A swinging earth

that rocks her children

With indifference

And grace

Come sit here

On woven bricks

We’ll march the chairs

Across the porch

And watch the past pass

Slowly quick, eyes dull

Like crepe and slow as 

paper planes

Look down high up

And count the days

We rock and wait in 

Heaven’s bell

Clap your hands and

Raise your voice

It won*t be long ‘til

Silence rings.