Morning Exercises

Sometimes in order to lubricate my writing bone, I have to do some sort of little exercise. I will journal at a mad pace for 3 pages (thanks Julia!) when I first get up in the morning. You should see the garbage that comes out (mmm good coffee crows cawing, damn it! Shut the fuck up. Black crows with orange eyes. Orange, I hate that color. I like blue. Blue green purple azure teal turquoise. Turquoisy. Noisy. Your beautiful lips & Oh your brown, brown eyes. Shit shit I have a zit.).

Another exercise is to do dic-flip. I take the dictionary, jam my finger in, and flip to that page. I write down whatever word my finger is on, unless it is a prefix or suffix, then I take the next nearest one. Then I write about it, or what it makes me think about.

You can see that maybe I need to get out more.



green around the gills
When I was younger, on weekends we would go upstate (NY) and visit my grandparents; often, this would include a fishing trip with my dad. We went one at a time, as the boat was quite small! He had a little rowboat. He would always row and I would fish. Sometimes, I would cast my line into a tree, but with experience I got really good at casting sideways so that it would just settle between the low-hanging trees and the water. the most exciting fish to catch is the pickerel. The hardest fish to catch is the American Eel, they pull like a motherf***er and Cannot be held onto, for they are so very slimy. You have to cut their necks and kill them in the boat, or they will wriggle out of your bucket and back into the lake. And yes, we eat them. Smoked! The Estonian word for eel is angerjas (UN-gare-yuz). The best part of fishing was coming ashore. I would have to stand and sort of lean forward so that the bow would elevate somewhat and my dad could more easily drive the boat ashore. We used to call it "the moon ship."



woody
heh heh.


percussive
Before I wanted to be a teacher, I went to school for physical therapy; one of the least pleasant types of therapy was for Cystic Fibrosis, when the patient has to lie on their chest with their head facing downward, and the therapist hammers on their back ("postural drainage and percussion") while they cough up all the mucus that has accumulated in their lungs.

I like the job I chose. Though at times, there is still mucus.



Österreich (Austria)
I had a stamp collection. It was a gift from my uncle, and it came with certain stamps and a huge book to put them in. I still have it! I think some of the stamps might be worth some money by now.

Here are the rest of the words that came up:
seize
tube foot
granary
con brio (with vigor!)
mask
soapstone

I was going to write about all of them, but I easily lose interest in things I begin, despite my best intentions. I need to wrap gifts and drink my coffee. Maybe you can write about them, or do a dic-flip of your own.

'Cuz I need to go out.