“Is life worth living?” questioned a masculine voice.

The dimmer switch connection of my brain was turned down way low. I couldn’t answer him right away.

“Eden? Did you hear me?”

The man was persistent. I touched my cheekbone with my fingers as that side of my face stung and throbbed at the same time. “What just happened?” I asked.

Found objects fascinate me.

Three smooth, long and narrow stones
shaped like lady finger cookies.

Then I came upon the fish remains.
From the belly of the beast, out slid a colony
of wriggling and squiggly maggots.

A graceful hand turns
the body of a fist-sized fruit,
sensing the ripeness.

Nothing more pleasing to my eyes
than a handsome man dressed in black.
Bow to stern. Port to starboard.

An orchid hid in a paper bag
next to the milk carton.

Agitated and uncomfortable.
That's when creativity flourished.

“You’d better find that bloody cricket,” Griff said. “I can’t concentrate.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Elmer responded. “It could be hiding anywhere.”

Griff turned around, his face reddened from frustration. He took off his thick glasses. “Don’t you realize how hard it is for me to do my job? That stupid noise is getting on my nerves. You don’t want that happening when I am working on this, get it?” He pointed to a small metal box sitting on the workbench in front of him before rotating back to his starting position.

“Okay,” Elmer said. “I get it—we can’t botch this job.”

Garbage in, garbage out.
Whatever in the world is that all about?
You throw away a perfectly fine red hat,
when it could be worn by a handsome black cat.
Don’t get me started on those overcooked noodles.
It’s a favourite delicacy of the ultra-posh poodles.
The well-soaked and warmed-over coffee grind scraps
are what flavour-seeking worms dream of during their naps.
So what if the flowers are a little bit wilted?
If they are tossed-out too early, they feel utterly jilted.

The shadow moved across the cemetery.
Should I have worn a hat?

Circles of sunlight highlighted births and deaths.

I almost fell in.
Right on top of you.

Is that why I'm here?

The snow keeps coming down
and the wide blue ocean has a hole in her roof.

She needs our help
to get up for work in the morning.

I spotted the gilt frame from a distance. I didn’t bother stopping to look at all the other shelves between where I stood and my new-found target. It’s like the thing emanated a magnetic field that pulled me in. Everything else fell to the margins. If I had passed a bar of gold, I wouldn’t have noticed it. If William Shakespeare sat in one of the old chairs they placed at the front of the store, I wouldn’t have cared. I had never felt such a feeling of tunnel vision. In my single-mindedness, I bumped into someone without saying, excuse me. That should tell you how obsessed I’d become in a matter of seconds.

The Before

I've had this purse for at least fifteen years. I bought it at the Green Room, in Stratford, long before I moved here. Through the years, it has put up with quite a bit of rough and tumble handling. The leather exterior has been marked up so badly, I actually bought a new purse. After about two weeks, that new purse had parts of the exterior vinyl rubbing off. Time to donate it—so I did.

I'd held onto my marked-up original, just in case. Its design, size and colour are exactly what I've always wanted. I've tried using shoe polish to even-out the marks, but it never lasted for long and did not make much of a difference. I didn't know what else to try until I noticed a small red dot of acrylic paint near the top opening. I don't know how that ended up on there, but being an artist, it could have happened whenever I had a project going on.

I tried to scratch it off with my fingernail. It wouldn't budge.

That little accident gave me an idea…

No one else can ever know about
the expensive smelling man
who wore trashy earrings
that sparkled like real diamonds.

Inspired by writer Austin Kleon, and his blackout newspaper process, I wanted to give the exercise a go myself. Unfortunately, I usually have printed flyers on hand, not newspapers. So, I went scrounging around in my "writing" folder on my computer for some raw material.