C.A. MacConnell
4/12/2020
4/09/2020
Photo: Knobby Knees.
Dear you:
Heya. So far, I've got 80 solid pages and 20 more pages of a mess on Book Four! I know where the mess is going, though. I have an idea, that is...sometimes it changes. Shrug.
So last night, I was sitting in my apartment, chilling, having a snack, watching Dateline, when my dad calls, asking hysterically, "Are you safe?" Then I realized there was a tornado outside...um...on my street. I ran to the bathroom, and I felt the building shake, and I heard the hail, but luckily, there was only some minor damage. Trees down, power lines, etc. It was scary though. And some people had it worse, just a few streets away. Whoa. And to think, I almost chilled out through the whole thing. The apocalypse could be happening, and I would have no idea...I'd just be sitting somewhere typing away or looking for hawks in the treetops.
Feeling good, but a little nervous about my new creation. :) It's a different challenge for me in many ways. I'd tell you why but I can't reveal my secrets yet. Ha.
Hope you are well and safe. Love you,
C.A. MacConnell
4/07/2020
Vacation Room
There's no question -- she is beneath him.
Flat on her back, licking her lips,
swimming in sheets, she is seemingly
satisfied. For miles, no one is near. Quiet,
the hours. They could be under water.
Blue on white, she buries herself
under blankets. Always, she’s on time
to meet him. True, she's always drop
dead, carrying limes. Mornings, door
service, it seems that he couldn’t live
without her. Nights, he stacks trays,
unsure how long she will last. No rain --
each dawn glows in the vacation room.
Surely, hiding will make her and break her
into the love of his life. A vision, she sleeps
cold now. But shouldn't her middle hold
less curve. Shouldn't the cut cheek slide into
the chin, stabbing the jawline. And the side
of her face -- shouldn't it hold more lines,
showing the age, the lost years etched
into another shade of eye. When will the pupil
become larger, the black giving up to a fierce,
traveling light. And when she turns, tosses,
rolls over, why doesn't her tired breathing
deepen, like the bravest at rest, like horses.
C.A. MacConnell
Flat on her back, licking her lips,
swimming in sheets, she is seemingly
satisfied. For miles, no one is near. Quiet,
the hours. They could be under water.
Blue on white, she buries herself
under blankets. Always, she’s on time
to meet him. True, she's always drop
dead, carrying limes. Mornings, door
service, it seems that he couldn’t live
without her. Nights, he stacks trays,
unsure how long she will last. No rain --
each dawn glows in the vacation room.
Surely, hiding will make her and break her
into the love of his life. A vision, she sleeps
cold now. But shouldn't her middle hold
less curve. Shouldn't the cut cheek slide into
the chin, stabbing the jawline. And the side
of her face -- shouldn't it hold more lines,
showing the age, the lost years etched
into another shade of eye. When will the pupil
become larger, the black giving up to a fierce,
traveling light. And when she turns, tosses,
rolls over, why doesn't her tired breathing
deepen, like the bravest at rest, like horses.
C.A. MacConnell
4/06/2020
4/05/2020
Twelve Minutes
A Comedy sample for you today. Love, C.A.
Twelve Minutes
Sweating, on top of Beth, Paul paused and asked, "Don't you like it like this?" He gently kissed her on the mouth.
"I guess, but I like our sex better when I can breathe," Beth answered, coughing. "By the way, can you shave soon? Your whiskers are giving me that chin rash again. Looks like I have a red beard."
"Damn, sorry, but what's wrong with being a pirate?" he said, laughing, slightly moving his body away from her chest. "About your oxygen, I can't help it. I just got carried away."
"I know," Beth said, breathing heavily. "You're gonna kill me. A little Viagra, and you're like the Energizer Bunny man all of a sudden. And I'm sitting here with my hair stuck to my cheek, about to flat line. Well, don't stop, damn it, keep going. The kids will be home in a half hour." She glanced at the wall clock. "Make that twelve minutes," she said.
Again, Paul moved close to her. "Stop ordering me around. I love you."
"Not like that," she said. "Shit, great, now all I can think about are Gino's Pizza Rolls. I love you too."
"Well how? Which way? Like that porn we got? Man, I'm not that flexible," he said, pausing. "And pizza rolls? What the hell? Focus, focus, dear. Why are you thinking about pizza?"
"I dunno, just do something hot, make me forget about pepperoni," Beth said. "You know, they have that commercial where that happy mom is making pizza rolls for all those kids. I feel like I should be like that woman all the time. It's so much pressure. No one could ever make that many pizza rolls at once. I can't live up to that woman."
He kissed her cheek. "You are that woman."
"Maybe do me from behind, yeah," she said, turning over. "Let's try that."
"Oh, we haven't done that in a while," Paul said. "Not sure if..."
"I know, your knees..." Beth said. "Never mind." She rolled over and stretched out on her back.
Beside her, Paul stretched out too.
"Aren't you frustrated?" she asked him.
"It's all right," Paul said. "We can do the side thing tonight, when we have more time."
"You are frustrated."
"Aren't you?" he asked.
"I feel like Jamie Lee Curtis on those yogurt commercials. You know, Activia," Beth said.
"Huh?" Paul laughed.
"Those ones where you're supposed to eat the yogurt so you won't be constipated," Beth explained.
"That's how you feel?" Paul asked.
"Yeah."
"You feel like you ate the yogurt, or you feel like you need to?" he asked, chuckling.
"Like I need to. All stuffed up," she said. "Maybe I should just do it myself."
"Do what? Eat the yogurt?" he asked. "You constipated? Man, I am. Have been for a week. Damn, are you crying?"
"No, I don't think so, but did you have to tell me about your bowel schedule right now?" Beth said, rolling her eyes. "I'm gonna just do it myself." She reached her hand down.
"Oh, yeah, do it," he said. "Go ahead, I'll watch."
"If you watch, I'll get all nervous, and then I won't be able to do it," Beth said in a raised voice.
"Well what do you want me to do?" he asked her.
She brought a hand to her chin, thinking. "I dunno, you could put your hand down there, do that thing. Or you could just go make the kids some of those pizza rolls?"
"What are you gonna do?" he asked.
"I'm gonna finish the job. You know, eat the yogurt," she said, grinning.
"Sometimes it's like you're speaking a different language," he said, getting up from the bed, slipping on his boxers, shaking his head. He smiled wide, showing a straight set of teeth.
"Honey, your teeth look great. You just whiten?" Beth asked, hand at her crotch.
"About a week ago. They hurt like hell," Paul said.
Beth asked, "Hey, have you ever seen that commercial with the Southern Comfort guy, where he's holding that glass, and it has this flag sticking out of it that says, 'Be you,' or something, I can't remember," Beth said.
Paul leaned in, looked her in the eye, touched her breast, and said, "No, the flag reads, 'Whatever's comfortable.'"
"Hey, we better hurry. Get outta here. I'm gonna do it myself. It's getting late. About that commercial, you sure that's what's on that flag? You sure?"
Paul laughed, flashing his white teeth. "I dunno, love, but I'm sure I'd like to watch."
"Me, or the commercial?" Beth asked.
"Both," Paul answered.
-- C.A. MacConnell
Twelve Minutes
Sweating, on top of Beth, Paul paused and asked, "Don't you like it like this?" He gently kissed her on the mouth.
"I guess, but I like our sex better when I can breathe," Beth answered, coughing. "By the way, can you shave soon? Your whiskers are giving me that chin rash again. Looks like I have a red beard."
"Damn, sorry, but what's wrong with being a pirate?" he said, laughing, slightly moving his body away from her chest. "About your oxygen, I can't help it. I just got carried away."
"I know," Beth said, breathing heavily. "You're gonna kill me. A little Viagra, and you're like the Energizer Bunny man all of a sudden. And I'm sitting here with my hair stuck to my cheek, about to flat line. Well, don't stop, damn it, keep going. The kids will be home in a half hour." She glanced at the wall clock. "Make that twelve minutes," she said.
Again, Paul moved close to her. "Stop ordering me around. I love you."
"Not like that," she said. "Shit, great, now all I can think about are Gino's Pizza Rolls. I love you too."
"Well how? Which way? Like that porn we got? Man, I'm not that flexible," he said, pausing. "And pizza rolls? What the hell? Focus, focus, dear. Why are you thinking about pizza?"
"I dunno, just do something hot, make me forget about pepperoni," Beth said. "You know, they have that commercial where that happy mom is making pizza rolls for all those kids. I feel like I should be like that woman all the time. It's so much pressure. No one could ever make that many pizza rolls at once. I can't live up to that woman."
He kissed her cheek. "You are that woman."
"Maybe do me from behind, yeah," she said, turning over. "Let's try that."
"Oh, we haven't done that in a while," Paul said. "Not sure if..."
"I know, your knees..." Beth said. "Never mind." She rolled over and stretched out on her back.
Beside her, Paul stretched out too.
"Aren't you frustrated?" she asked him.
"It's all right," Paul said. "We can do the side thing tonight, when we have more time."
"You are frustrated."
"Aren't you?" he asked.
"I feel like Jamie Lee Curtis on those yogurt commercials. You know, Activia," Beth said.
"Huh?" Paul laughed.
"Those ones where you're supposed to eat the yogurt so you won't be constipated," Beth explained.
"That's how you feel?" Paul asked.
"Yeah."
"You feel like you ate the yogurt, or you feel like you need to?" he asked, chuckling.
"Like I need to. All stuffed up," she said. "Maybe I should just do it myself."
"Do what? Eat the yogurt?" he asked. "You constipated? Man, I am. Have been for a week. Damn, are you crying?"
"No, I don't think so, but did you have to tell me about your bowel schedule right now?" Beth said, rolling her eyes. "I'm gonna just do it myself." She reached her hand down.
"Oh, yeah, do it," he said. "Go ahead, I'll watch."
"If you watch, I'll get all nervous, and then I won't be able to do it," Beth said in a raised voice.
"Well what do you want me to do?" he asked her.
She brought a hand to her chin, thinking. "I dunno, you could put your hand down there, do that thing. Or you could just go make the kids some of those pizza rolls?"
"What are you gonna do?" he asked.
"I'm gonna finish the job. You know, eat the yogurt," she said, grinning.
"Sometimes it's like you're speaking a different language," he said, getting up from the bed, slipping on his boxers, shaking his head. He smiled wide, showing a straight set of teeth.
"Honey, your teeth look great. You just whiten?" Beth asked, hand at her crotch.
"About a week ago. They hurt like hell," Paul said.
Beth asked, "Hey, have you ever seen that commercial with the Southern Comfort guy, where he's holding that glass, and it has this flag sticking out of it that says, 'Be you,' or something, I can't remember," Beth said.
Paul leaned in, looked her in the eye, touched her breast, and said, "No, the flag reads, 'Whatever's comfortable.'"
"Hey, we better hurry. Get outta here. I'm gonna do it myself. It's getting late. About that commercial, you sure that's what's on that flag? You sure?"
Paul laughed, flashing his white teeth. "I dunno, love, but I'm sure I'd like to watch."
"Me, or the commercial?" Beth asked.
"Both," Paul answered.
-- C.A. MacConnell
4/02/2020
4/01/2020
Trivia Night
Both Grampie, on Mom's side, and Mimi, on Dad's side, had an incredible gift when it came to memory. I've heard them termed "photographic." Grampie could write a sermon, look at it once, and remember the entire, one-hour-long talk word for word, quotes and all. Mimi remembered everything; she was particularly knowledgeable about family history, current family happenings, sports, and...well...everything else in the world, from politics to religion to animated movies to "Who was on the Wheaties cereal box back in 1992?" Mimi would pause, put a hand at her chin, and say, "Oh, I dunno, Chris, probably the Dallas Cowboys?" Yes.
It was truly amazing. Whenever anyone in my extended family had a question that he/she couldn't answer, Mimi would always get a call. No matter on the subject; she always knew the answer. Of course, this was before the days of Google and such, and Mimi was a walking encyclopedia. My family didn't need internet searches. We called Mimi.
Well, later in life, Mimi lived in a nursing home, and they had an ultra-important, gently raucous, intense Trivia Night each week. Over time, the other residents clued in on Mimi's spectacular sponge mind, and her knack for facts, so they fought to have her on their team each week, because no matter what, if Mimi was on the team, the team won. In the home, people even started to get all riled up because of it. They thought she was cheating, and they couldn't believe how much she knew. When Mimi came to Trivia Night, there occurred mild fights involving gin, wine, walkers, and canes, and later, there was a full-on, candy-throwing uproar about whose team she would be on.
So this morning, my sister sent me a text reminding me of the time when one week at the nursing home, the residents, her buddies (who saved up bottles of wine from the cafeteria specifically for Trivia Night), decided to try and test Mimi by having a category called, "Current Musicians," and as Trivia Night progressed, no one knew any of the answers, so it started out rather dull, but when it came to be Mimi's turn, the question was, "What rapper's 1995 debut album Conspiracy debuted at Number Eight on the Billboard charts?" Mimi shouted out, "L'il Kim!" Everyone in the room was silent. Because...like always...she was absolutely right. Keep in mind that she was about ninety at the time, and she was blind in one eye, but she still read everything she could get her hands on, and she remembered every single fact.
She knew the answer to everything.
Lately, I've been thinking of Mimi a lot. On a grand, selfless scale, throughout her long life, she was one of my biggest supporters. I really feel her with me right now. She'd be proud of the way that I walked right through old trauma in the past two years, and she'd be proud of the new person I've become -- stronger and wiser, focused on a bigger picture, focused on my book to come. She'd be more than proud. She would lift me up. Actually, I think she's been with me in spirit this whole time, sending me answers from Heaven.
"Where there is love there is no darkness." (Right now, if Mimi were here, she would say, "I think I've heard that quote before. It's in the Bible. Paraphrased in John. But now that I think about it, it's also an old Burundian proverb.")
C.A. MacConnell
3/29/2020
3/28/2020
Morning Coffee, Attica
Only black,
Brazilian
brew
back then --
Jesus,
bring me the grandfather
clock.
I was wound up with her.
And now, the baby's not a baby.
I am one
of the last
of the few
with an out
date.
Now, instant, I'd kill for you,
you fucker.
It doesn't matter if it's Tuesday.
Waiting for the cleaner,
the weak, lying, prick from the south,
I bolt upright
and consider
the country.
In brave time,
six years,
I'll buy a blue-grey,
six-toed,
one-eyed
beast named
Bandeira,
make him a home-bed.
I do what I can.
I hang on the bars.
Yesterday, I traded a joint
for the hot.
Mop man,
slide the bag
of scalding water
under the hell door.
I'm sure you understand the quick
pour.
When the dogs aren't looking,
maybe I could make a deal
with a visitor
and fit inside one sister's
old, wet,
unbleached
pocket.
C.A. MacConnell
Brazilian
brew
back then --
Jesus,
bring me the grandfather
clock.
I was wound up with her.
And now, the baby's not a baby.
I am one
of the last
of the few
with an out
date.
Now, instant, I'd kill for you,
you fucker.
It doesn't matter if it's Tuesday.
Waiting for the cleaner,
the weak, lying, prick from the south,
I bolt upright
and consider
the country.
In brave time,
six years,
I'll buy a blue-grey,
six-toed,
one-eyed
beast named
Bandeira,
make him a home-bed.
I do what I can.
I hang on the bars.
Yesterday, I traded a joint
for the hot.
Mop man,
slide the bag
of scalding water
under the hell door.
I'm sure you understand the quick
pour.
When the dogs aren't looking,
maybe I could make a deal
with a visitor
and fit inside one sister's
old, wet,
unbleached
pocket.
C.A. MacConnell
3/25/2020
3/23/2020
3/21/2020
Photo: Mustang, Outer Banks
C.A. MacConnell
PS. I had to delete my earlier post. Too Debbie Downer. ha. Plus, I had zinc sunscreen on my face in the pic. Win some, lose some. Much love to you out there.
3/15/2020
Mansion
We broke in.
It was all
about the weather.
Seven times,
the scattered sky
spoke through
heat lightning,
and new clouds
coughed above us,
mostly hanging
in patchy rows.
Behind us, the stone
mansion. Someday,
I'll put up an offer.
We swam close
in the strange,
perfect pool;
we were the ice
on the dog day.
Let’s get dressed.
Rain’s comin’.
On the deck,
you checked
my muscle.
C.A. MacConnell
It was all
about the weather.
Seven times,
the scattered sky
spoke through
heat lightning,
and new clouds
coughed above us,
mostly hanging
in patchy rows.
Behind us, the stone
mansion. Someday,
I'll put up an offer.
We swam close
in the strange,
perfect pool;
we were the ice
on the dog day.
Let’s get dressed.
Rain’s comin’.
On the deck,
you checked
my muscle.
C.A. MacConnell
3/09/2020
3/08/2020
Photo: Juliet
Pyramid Hill Sculpture Park. More to come tomorrow. :) Hope you like the shot.
C.A. MacConnell
