Mickey Newbury Web Board
Mickey Newbury Web Board
Home | Profile | Register | Active Topics | Members | Search | FAQ
Username:
Password:
Save Password
Forgot your Password? | Admin Options

 All Forums
 The Back Porch
 Open Topic
 The Nightly Vigil
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Previous Page | Next Page
Author  Topic Next Topic
Page: of 164 Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic

Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1819 Posts

Posted - 02/26/2015 :  16:35:02  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Right-O, Ro! That is the only way out of it.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/03/2015 :  19:29:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A season of Sunday weather. White adobe and blue dazzled walls. An open double Dutch door. A freshly painted aquamarine glider where they sit in the evenings overlooking the valley's misty irrigation. Shoulders touching in the starry dark. The friction of their answering hands.
Go to Top of Page

Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1819 Posts

Posted - 03/07/2015 :  11:52:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"What a glorious gift of God music is... It drives away the devil and makes people happy."

Martin Luther
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/13/2015 :  18:37:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Scissors, slices, shadows. The tree-propped sky appearing over the haunted San Jacinto's. You turn onto the blue gravel road. Pine blur of trees where the sun never falls all the way to the needled ground. How quiet our footsteps. How safe we are there. "...between two worlds..."
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/13/2015 :  18:45:15  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It was your idea. Pretend we're invited guests, you said. Charming the grave grandmother in the corner. The overseer. The one with the authentic evil eye. What did you say/tell her that she gave you a fine linen napkin filled with tiny wedding cookies?
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/15/2015 :  17:40:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Late Surfliner. Union Station. "...her face and hands were porcelain bisque. The rest of her body was...something not around anymore. She had long dark hair and lashes. Brown glass eyes that closed. She wore high-button shoes and a blue-ticking sailor dress. She slept between the Harlequin Jester and the Gypsy doll with exaggerated long legs. When I was five I jumped on my high iron bed trying to touch the ceiling. She hit the floor and fractured her peaches and cream face. At the doll hospital many dolls were recovering in cradles and cribs. Doll nurses in uniform aprons. Big red crosses on their chests. I sat on the floor beside her bed until Mr. Rosenthal turned out the lights..."

The hypnotic rocking of the train. The picture of him, weary. A wince in his heart. His reflection in the midnight window pinching the bridge of his nose. An Edward Hopper melancholia.

After all that dark... "Tell me all of it!" he said.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/16/2015 :  18:53:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A woman tells stories to a man. His expression never changes. Nor do his profiles. Small moles on either side of his face in different places. And his eyes. Grey clouds coming in. Clear blue skies. There again, stormy weather.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/22/2015 :  16:56:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Late days. Ensenada. Benito Juarez stalking the honey market. Crepe paper streamers and ten dollar painted guitars. Every cruise ship tourist tethered to a papier-mâché piñata. The harbor with its wavery reflections. Aqua marine. Bands of blue. "Wet pictures," you said, brushing shortbread sugar from the front of your shining white shirt.
Go to Top of Page

Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1819 Posts

Posted - 03/26/2015 :  11:21:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The magic works like this: You feel bad. You listen to Newbury. You feel better.
Go to Top of Page

Joey L.
Swinger

USA
1383 Posts

Posted - 03/27/2015 :  09:06:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And if you feel good ... you go play golf. Is that how it works?

Inquiring minds knead da dough, y'know! cuz ... 'the Future's Not' ...
Go to Top of Page

Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1819 Posts

Posted - 03/27/2015 :  11:39:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Whatever rings the bell.
Kayaking is my second choice...
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/28/2015 :  18:10:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Life in the filtered light of days gone by. "I like to be surprised," he says, his elbow out the window freckling up. His reflection in the rearview mirror. The Badlands casting their mutinous shadows across the desert floor. The sky, star-flecked and quiet. Furious Summer's bramble miles. Heat lightning. Razor-sharp at the edge. Waiting for a break in the weather.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/28/2015 :  18:25:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He's sleeping. A brief time. A few moments at the most. A series of revolving doors when he wakes with a start, "...still out there..." he says, and she knows where he is. Out on the vast Mojave where they discovered the slabs that night. Asymmetrical. City blocks wide. A high thin vibrating sound. A whine almost a color. "Like landing strips for space ships," she'd said, and he'd said, "Ours...?" They couldn't find the road the next morning. Too much mirage on the windshield. Everything tilted and slipping away. All needles and thorns. Brittle branches. No sweet stems to wrap in a wet paper towel and set in a safe kitchen window.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/28/2015 :  18:31:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
After supper they blew out a thousand candles and walked under jacaranda. Lavender confetti sticking to the soles of their shoes. This world's petals in their hair. "Jus' tell the story," he said, "don't explain it."
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 03/29/2015 :  18:48:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I used a compass. Ten miles was my outside travel number from where I'd be working in LA. (Here's where the natives laugh.) I rented a ladder cottage on Westwanda in the hills above Sunset. A steep road of S curves with no room for two cars to pass. A half apron driveway where I had to open the garage door to pull in. The kitchen was a blindingly bright balcony. The rest of the house midnight dark. Like living inside a tree. A long narrow basement with wooden floor and a barre that ran the length of a mirrored wall. A man came in and sat down at the piano on Thursdays.

I went back several years ago. A sentimental journey. Every house had been remodeled. The road even narrower now.

Edited by - Ailinn on 08/19/2017 18:33:16
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 04/01/2015 :  07:58:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Promissory Notes. The lifeguards children are raking the beach or walking on water. They want ice cream from the jingle truck. The lifeguards want a cold beer. Zinc oxide smear on their heroic noses watching the Spring break convoy heading south on the PCH. Smoke rising from miles of bluff campgrounds. Pavilions of tail-gaters barbecuing beside their RVs.

At the top of a cliff there's a stilted house strung around with wind chimes and tiny bells. Glass beads in the window. A shivering carnival presence on the walls. Outside, a welcome mat. A picnic table. A deck of Bicycle cards.
Go to Top of Page

Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts

Posted - 04/02/2015 :  03:07:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
quote:
Originally posted by Ailinn
A deck of Bicycle cards.



Blue or red?

Craig
Go to Top of Page

San Diego
Swinger

508 Posts

Posted - 04/03/2015 :  08:36:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Morning, Craig. I have a houseful here with more arriving this afternoon. Marathon cooking. I considered making your cherry pie... but I don't have an extra week to do that. Easter blessings to you, Janet and family. Love, Ro.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2015 :  17:08:52  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I meet her at the Daily Grill in Palm Desert, "...where they still know how to make a whisky sour." Marcella Delight. Appropriate name. Remarkably beautiful. (Those high cheekbones her famous photographer mined so originally in black and white.) "Some men break your heart making history," she said after I knew her a while. A world traveler who fled NYC after a 40-hour blizzard in 2008. Now she lives in Rancho Mirage and occasionally dines with the displaced Ventura ophthalmologist who, "...insists you have 'surreal vision'," she's laughing. He's also joined her in a poetry workshop, "Quite humorous," she's serious now. "The rest... Ah, well...I get on with it. You know how that is..." After lunch we wander through Clementine Market where I find treats for my children who live in another world.
Go to Top of Page

Ailinn
Windchimer

2174 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2015 :  17:18:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's a long drive up and over the menacing Santa Rosas. A dangerous vertigo climb past the big horn sheep lookout. Wooden crosses and plastic lilies at Carrizo Road. I pull over for a few moments. Turn off the AC and roll the windows down.

Surreal vision. His lightning-sliced palms interrupted lifelines. Water skiing off Route 66 in the middle of the Mojave. Any close encounter at the Bagdad Café. "...stopping everyone without chains on the mountain," he said. 109 degrees on the desert floor.
Go to Top of Page
Page: of 164  Topic Next Topic   Lock Topic Edit Topic Delete Topic New Topic Reply to Topic
Previous Page | Next Page
 New Topic  Reply to Topic
 Printer Friendly
Jump To:
Mickey Newbury Web Board © 2003 Mickeynewbury.com Go To Top Of Page
Snitz Forums 2000