This time it was the apple, but I’ll keep trying.

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I received a request for something a bit more substantial than “just a quote,” and another for something more, “I don’t know, about butterflies or what you did in Australia. Something happy.”

Right, okay. Butterflies. Happy…

So I sat down, opened up a new document, and took a bite of my apple…

—

Mushy apples, wet peanut butter, cigarette smoke.
Caged animals, plastic straws, tree stumps.
Distended bellies, oppressed souls, false hope.

Hiccups, parking tickets, splintered wood.
Sirens, screeching brakes, raised fists.
Apathy, the sound of pain, someday I should…

You deserve the best, cold feet, flights home.
Broken promises, resignation, empty words.
Rainy days, sleeping alone…waking up alone.

Starting over one more time, one more time.

—

I’ll try again next week…or maybe the next.

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Okay, here is my offering to make up for the absence of butterflies. The thing that always feeds my soul, even after the mushiest of apples.

27 thoughts on “This time it was the apple, but I’ll keep trying.”

  2. Next time I take a bite of a mushy apple I will think of you. Then I will see if I, too, can turn the horror of the experience into something magical like you did. #mushyappletheory
    Fuck butterflies, everyone knows they are beautiful. No offense to butterflies or anything because I know butterflies matter n’ shit, but I want you to tell me something I don’t know. To take me somewhere. To make me feel. That’s what I want. Whatever the context, your words always do that. Because that’s what all great writers do. #duh #eventhedarkpartsmatter #nobutterflieswerehurtinthemakingofthiscomment

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    • Ha! My claim to fame, it seems- mushy apples and rogue Rolos. But I’ll take a germ-infested Rolo over a lack-luster apple any day. No joke. Butterflies do matter. And I hope to write about them too someday. Just not today. It’s brutal, I’m discovering, to keep writing through the dark parts, when the dark parts are starting to forget the light of day. Not to say everything is ‘all dark, all the time’. I can barely make it through a run these days w/out taking yet another pic of a tulip or hyacinth. I might as well resign myself to walking when the peonies start to bloom. All to say, I’ll get there. Happier will happen. Just gotta keep trying… Love ya, girl.

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      • You’re most welcome Brooke. Both your moving prose and Tanya’s hard hitting comments really stirred me yesterday, to the point of realizing I’ve gotten bored with my own writing. I hope to be as authentic and raw as you both. I wrote a short post about this to publish on Thursday if you’re interested. Hugs and shit! 🙂

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      • I think I like this comment even better than the last!! First, it makes my heart happy if I had any part in “stirring” or inspiring or whatever made you dig a little deeper. Second, if anyone gets how you feel, it’s this one. I’m just a wee bit tired/bored of writing about ‘sad’, which is exactly why I haven’t been writing. Thank god I have people like you and Tanya to set me straight and talk me through it. So, I shall do the same for you. I’m excited to read your post, and of course, I’m interested!!! Hugs and shit back 😉

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  5. Clearly you need a better grocer. Try a walk in the woods with a pineapple next time. Or go to the seafood counter and get you a crabapple. There’s a quaint city on the California coast where you can get a Carmelapple. You know you are the apple of my eye, but some advice, while traveling — try to avoid the roadapples.

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