More fictional writing.  

He did not leave to save her.

He did not leave because he thought she deserved more.

He did not leave her for her own sake.

He left to save himself.

He left to serve himself.

He left to erase his past instead of face it.

He could not forgive himself.

He said he could not out run his past.

Who can?

He was too afraid to dig in and live up to his promise.

He was too afraid of what he could not say.

He did not love her.

It was easier to erase and replace than to heal.

It was not a hero’s story.

What he tells himself and his reasons was the path out.

Abuse, deciept and cruelty was how he broke her down.

And he did break her down.

In the cruelest of ways.

He pushed her to be something that she was not and used it to leave her.

He left ruins of pain, he left a path of victims.

He became what she called him.

He hated it because it was true.

He was and became his father.

In between and later on

 In between and later on, things happen.

A hair appointment that was more fun and cozy than ever.  Even with some chemicals gone wrongs.  As she scrunched my new curly extensions she caught my boobs.  We laughed.  I said… “ I come here for many reasons.”  

The therapy

The mimosa

The Hair

The Friendship 

And the feel up!  Ha ha ha

I smile. My hair is amazing.  For whom? Me.

I got a book in the mail.  Alexa Marketed it to me.  

I am reading again so maybe it was good to get a book.  I stare at the fully loaded kindle.  As I do not read in bed any more the book feels good in my hands.

Then book is “The Last Thing She Ever Did, Gregg Olsen.

I surely will keep my posted thoughts.

I am re-listening to Matthew Maconaughey - Green Lights.  I missed something the first time. I missed the belief that this could be anyone. 

Have a good day. Peace.

Families

 The family…parents and kids.  I think this should be the strongest bond.  It is not … because the husband and wife family bond could be the weakest link and tear it all down.

The sister family.  I say that as I have seen the sister family as powerful and beautiful. Sister to sister that is.

The work family.  Is that a family.  Maybe.  If you work for a family and you spend over two decades, it might be stronger than the “family.”  

It is fake? They pay you money to do a job.  But if you stay and stay and they give you all the love and you walk away on happy air, then it it is more than just the work family.

Random thoughts.  Do you you have a non blood family that is way up high?  That you count on.  They are excited to see you …even if they saw you 45 hours a week. 

I think my point in this little writing is to … watch for the Joy.  Watch for the love.  It is so easy to see, feel and recognize.   

She did not have a story.

She had a life.

She wrote things down.

She wrote everything down.

She wrote good things down.

She wrote on the web, she wrote emails, she posted.

Sharing was good.

Most things written down were to expel.

To expel and not read again.

When did she start writing things down because she was not believed?

Why did she need to document.

Perhaps she needed to remind herself?

Or she needed proof.

In the end the writing would save her.

Not for vindication, but because she got away.

 He has a story.  The reason.  The why.

It took about a year and a half for him to put it together.  

He put it together with notes rather than feeling.

He put it together alone, even though it was not a solo activity.

He put it together precisely.

All along he had to check notes and check his facts.  

He didn’t want to lie or be wrong.

But the story became that what ended all things.

The story empowered him.

It was a family trait to remember a story and re-tell it and believe it.

It was all he ever knew of a family.  Broken stories.

That did not make it true.

Once it was memorized and written down, it became The Story, The Why.

*fiction story writing.  All events are made up and not related to any living human. 

 Hello .. yes.. it’s been awhile…

I am thinking there will not be a lot of violin talk or soap news.

I do make soap and I don’t play the violin.  

I sold my violin to pay bills.

And this will be a place to write fictitious very short or very long stories.   Kind of a safe place because it is like screaming into a Forrest. No one will hear you, but you needed to scream.

Flare, Cororna - A review by Toni

About Flare, Corona:

Against a constellation of solar weather events and evolving pandemic, Jeannine Hall Gailey’sFlare, Corona paints a self-portrait of the layered ways that we prevail and persevere through illness and natural disaster.

Gailey deftly juxtaposes odd solar and weather events with the medical disasters occurring inside her own brain and body— we follow her through a false-alarm terminal cancer diagnosis, a real diagnosis of MS, and finally the onset of the coronavirus pandemic. The solar flare and corona of an eclipse becomes the neural lesions in her own personal “flare,” which she probes with both honesty and humor. While the collection features harbingers of calamity, visitations of wolves, blood moons, apocalypses, and plagues, at the center of it all are the poet’s attempts to navigate a fraught medical system, dealing with a series of challenging medical revelations, some of which are mirages and others that are all too real. 

In Flare, Corona, Jeannine Hall Gailey is incandescent and tender-hearted, gracefully insistent on teaching us all of the ways that we can live, all of the ways in which we can refuse to do anything but to brilliantly and stubbornly survive.

My Review can not even compare to the above "about Flare, Corona."   I strongly agree with that synopsis. 

I read about 2-3  of the poems/works each day.   Each one to me is like a strong heavy drink.  Also I don't always know exactly what I am reading or the true meaning, but I feel it very strong.    After reading more and more it began to sink into the timing and the meaning... I felt powerful sad, and strong.  I love the deep raw stuff. 

I feel it in my brain, it feels like stream of consciousness poetry and I feel my brain grip it and go places with it.   I cry and I wonder as I read.  Connective writing to a very confusing time for all, and yet so personal to the author.  

I recommend this collection.  It's a grand slam on emotion. 

Join the rest of the tour and see what everyone has to say. 

Blog Tour Schedule:

May 18: Review Tales by Jeyran Main (interview)

May 23: Author Anthony Avina blog (review)

May 25: Author Anthony Avina blog (guest post)

May 30: The Book Lover's Boudoir (review)

June 6: The bookworm (review)

June 13: The Soapy Violinist (review)

June 15: Celtic Lady's Reviews (guest post)

June 20: True Book Addict (review)

About the Poet:

Jeannine Hall Gailey is a writer with MS who served as the second Poet Laureate of Redmond, Washington. She is the author of five books of poetry: Becoming the Villainess, She Returns to the Floating World, Unexplained Fevers, The Robot Scientist's Daughter, Field Guide to the End of the World, the winner of the Moon City Press Book Award and the SFPA's Elgin Award, and upcoming in 2023, Flare, Corona from BOA Editions. She also wrote a non-fiction book called PR for Poets to help poets trying to promote their books. Her poems have been featured on NPR's The Writer's Almanac and on Verse Daily; two were included in 2007's The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror. She was awarded a 2007 and 2011 Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Prize for Poetry and a 2007 Washington State Artist Trust GAP grant. Her poems have appeared in American Poetry Review, Poetry, and Ploughshares.