You didn't do nothing.

    I pulled my jacket tight against the frosted wind. The same wind that had brought me out,  driven me from my cabin. Now, it pushed me back, froze my eyes close, making me sleepy. Hearing your song fading had brought me out, bringing only my flashlight and axe. I gripped them to keep my fingers from going numb.
    The snow had been falling all day. It didn't change when I ran out of my cabin, searching for you. Your cry had been faint, but it wasn't distant. I could feel you on that wind, as if it was your breath. I was hunting for you, in frozen temperatures with only a coat.

Dreams #2

One of my friends wanted to meet me for a camping trip at his old school. I went to the school to meet him after talking to him on the phone, and there was a bunch of people just hanging out at the school. I then saw a figure in the distance walking back to his car, and I asked someone by me who it was and he said "He never comes up here alone, it's like he's scared." The figure then got into the car and started driving away, but before he passed the school he threw a rock at me which struck my shoulder, numbing my entire arm and knocking me out. The figure was the friend I was meeting.

Hey Joe,

this counts.

Dreams #1

My girlfriend was a French-Italian gangster. They specialized in the drug trade, mainly heroin and cocaine, and were quite successful at it. They were based out of Paris. I took no part in any of it, but rather just knew about it, but didn't think that much about it. The main sequence of the dream was in the Palace of Versailles, where my girlfriend with her two dream sisters were sorting cocaine and heroin, while her three dream brothers sat at a long table right behind them talking about the cops and stuff. I was there to get my girlfriend, and I talked to the head brother for a bit. Then, in a dark alley with her against the wall crying, she told me that she had left a note for her brother because he was mad at her, telling him that she was going to bust the operation and tell the police about it. She was scared. Then I woke up.

Blog Reflection #2

With my seventh creative act, the poem "High Back Chair", I struggled with the writing of it. I originally conceived the idea after seeing a High Back Chair on someones lawn with a free sign on it while riding my bike. I thought about how something that obviously has so much history and craft put into it is just being tossed out, and how I felt about it. However, what I want to talk more about is the struggle I felt while writing it.

Creative Act #8

For my creative act this week, I've included the beginning of a short story I'm working on that is highly unedited. I did this because I think it can be more interesting to see the process of how people complete their creative acts, and thus by showing this little bit of what how I do it I can show my creative process.

Creative Act #7

High Back Chair

When I saw you
with your oak legs
sunk into that
golden lawn, I wondered why
you left me alone
in my magazine house.

"Maybe I should take
you home"

but that corner has
been filled, and
your colleages gone
because like
children playing outside
you never happen anymore.