Here are my notes from Diana Gabaldon’s Managing a Mob workshop:
![20191027_124025[1]](https://shawnbird.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/20191027_1240251-e1572317058648.jpg?w=303&h=447)
Diana Gabaldon SiWC 2019
poem-later May 5, 2016
Tap tap
Oh?
Mmm,
No B. O.
Hmm?
Big guns!
Big guns?
Yo!
No.
Oh?
No.
No?
No.
Oh.
`
poem-going July 19, 2015
He’s going.
I feel him stretching out
like old elastic on the tops of pantyhose.
How old are your pantyhose?
That’s not the point.
You need to refresh your pantyhose, seriously
that elastic is good for a decade at least.
Oh forget I said it. He’s going. I can feel him slipping away.
Like pantyhose falling off your hips if they’re so old the elastic is brittle?
Well, yes.
I have some elastic lace. We can sew it onto the pantyhose. They’ll be like new.
It’s not about the pantyhose.
No. It’s about the elastic.
No. It’s about the leaving.
You know, if you put a pair of panties over the pantyhose, it will keep them up.
Like a hug.
Exactly like a hug. Sometimes the pantyhose work down a bit and are uncomfortable, but they stay up.
How do you know these things?
Oh. We all have our emergency strategies.
Emergency.
Definitely.
Hmm. Right. Thanks.
poem- he said she said April 14, 2015
That scarf was a ridiculous purchase, he said. I don’t work for you to buy gauzy strips of gratuitous fabric.
I don’t know why, she sighed, you insist upon these games
Because, said he, games are fun. His lips quirked up on one side. His eyes were dark
Not always, she said. Take chess, for example.
Racing is fun. Speeding around the track, outmanoeuvring competitors. I never liked chess. All that cornering the king. It’s unbecoming.
Oh I know, said she. She touched the damned scarf to a lit a taper and tossed it out the window as it flared. Oops. How clumsy of me.
His eyes grew wide and he rushed to the window to see flames rapidly licking the dashboard of his Aston Martin convertible.
You always forget that the real power on the chess board is the queen’s, she said, as he raced shouting from the room. Check, mate.
.
.
Today’s NaPoWriMo.net prompt is to write a dialogue poem.
Poem- Easter Monday aubade April 6, 2015
Last night
you woke in horror.
“What is it?” I asked.
You shivered, “A nightmare,
one of the worst I’ve had.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
I asked sleepily.
“No,” you said. “I can’t think about it.”
“Am I ever in your nightmares?”
You pondered for a long time.
“No,” you finally said. “Never.”
“Then come closer,” I said,
“I will protect you.”
In the morning, you are gone,
but you have left behind
the sighs of your security
in my arms.
.
.
Today http://www.napowrimo.net prompt is to write an aubade. I am particularly fond of aubades. They are the opposite of a serenade. In a serenade, the lover is trying to entice into the beloved’s bed; in an aubade the morning has come, and the lover must depart. I wrote one last year (or before?) that I’m sure WordPress will link to beneath this post. You may enjoy that one, too. I was quite proud of it.
poem-bone bling March 30, 2015
“So what happened exactly?”
the students asked,
and I told them about the fall,
casts, surgery, plate, and screws.
“Ha!” one laughed, “That’s perfect for you!”
“Why?” I asked
“Because now
even your skeleton
has bling!”
.
.
True story.
I love my students.
🙂
poem- imagination trumps reality April 26, 2014
“How can you write
about being drunk
if you’ve never been drunk?”
the boys ask, grinning.
I shrug, and hand them some papers.
“You tell me. Did I do it?”
They read, groan, gasp and sigh.
“I didn’t see that coming,” one mutters.
Finally they look up at me with muted faces.
“Well?” I ask
“Oh, yeah,” one grunts. “You did.”
The others nod and grunt in agreement.
“But how?” asks another shaking his head.
“I could imagine what it’s like to be drunk,
and so I never needed to drink.
I could have fun without needing to dull my senses
or find artificial courage.
I don’t drink. I’ve never done drugs.
I don’t need to, because
I have imagination.”
“Huh,” they say,
and class begins.
.
.
.
I know that my experience is not at all common. My parents were social drinkers, but I never saw either of them intoxicated. I didn’t like the taste of alcohol, and felt no need to drink to be cool. If I went to a party, I was disgusted how the drinkers all turned into idiots.
My high school friends didn’t drink. We went out together, had a great time, and the next morning we remembered what happened and we didn’t have a headache! We had a remarkable amount of common sense! 😉
I have addicted relatives. They are also a good lesson of how lives can be destroyed.
I am routinely astonished by students who have never met *anyone* who doesn’t drink. They think all adults drink. Many of the adults in their lives only socialize in an inebriated stupor and they don’t know there is another way to interact with people. I have never tried marijuana or other recreational drugs either. I don’t need to medicate my emotions or do weird things. I need all the energy I have, so I can’t afford to send my motivations up in smoke! I can’t imagine just taking some pill off someone at a party. That’s not fun, that’s just stupid (and dangerous).
I don’t presume to tell anyone else what to do, and I actually support legalization, to remove the criminal component. I consider it a health issue.
One thing about my clean life style- it frees up room in the budget for my Fluevogs! 🙂
Shawn L. Bird 