Whoo, let’s hear it for 2013! Sorry about the delay in proper blog updates, but a combination of offline Christmas merriment and the resurgence of my shrewd nemesis Col-Lege The Educator has slowed my flow of post-worthy activities. However, while the continuing struggle for Love&Darkness: Vol. I‘s full release hinges on when Stuart Marlantes gets some free time and/or I bite the bullet and learn how to use an e-book formatting program, I’m pleased to follow up on a few previous Tweets by reporting that–aside from my apartment and this little hidden pocket in my messenger bag–the book is currently available at the following locations:
—Book & Brush – Chehalis, WA
—The Aerie Ballroom and Events Facility – Centralia, WA
…Okay, so that’s not much, but it’s a start! Also, availability of copies at the UW Bookstore in Seattle is still pending. If you’re around “The Ave,” Go in and ask for Love&Darkness: Vol. I by Trevor White to see if we can drum up some support!
Anyway, with a return to the University of Washington comes a return to “Write Away!”, and while I was feeling both rushed and rusted in spontenaeity that night, I still managed to produce a prose poem based on a prompt the group leader got off of Reddit: pick a verb, then write about being unable to perform said action “after the acccident.” Twenty minutes later, an only marginally rougher version of the following appeared on my notebook paper:
Limited Mobility [based on the verb “Accelerate”]
The accident was terrific, in the old-fashioned sense
of powder keg explosions and whip-crack lightning,
but slower and so much sadder.
One day, mid-day,
the car was pulling into the parking lot
of Arby’s, and in angling my boot
beneath the brake to rake out an old wrapper
from Subway, my foot got stuck.
My hair got all electrified,
and the steering wheel sweaty.
The yellow brick road bump backing the handicapped spot
was my best bet, before I lost control.
Unstick, foot,
unstick!
I thrashed gently, kicked lightly, fighting,
until the boot removed itself right
into the side of the gas pedal,
and this being my latest cheap-ass sedan,
the pedal cracked off like a twig
on a black-padded assembly line limb.
I halted to a stop—that handicapped spot—
and dropped out of the car.
Let them check it.
I’ll tell ’em I got limited mobility,
and can’t move since the accident.
Notes&Sketches 