Saturday, June 27, 2009
THE SINGING BUTLER
A waltz under dark skies, on slick, shiny tan earth. Lovers roam the grounds whilst servant borne umbrellas stave off rain drops from the black, rolling, sheets above. Shadows paint short lines in the ground, proof of a sun, piercing through the afternoon gloom. All stand in black or white but one; a rose in a bland garden of activity, she swirls in bloom around her partner, completely relaxed and free. In contrast to the standard bearers around her, in a silent tango, in the vast, damp wasteland
Friday, June 19, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
First of all Glen is going to Minnesota, wish him luck and bug him about not writing anything lately. Also, there are a bunch of new stories up at 50 to 1, a collection of 50 word stories and 1st lines of stories. Broadset has posted an interview of Maryann McFadden (an author of two books). Keep updated on that blog too, I hear that they're going to interview Ben Greenman soon. And if you don't know who Ben Greenman is, click his name and look at his stuff and laugh your ass off. In a good way.
There I think I gave you enough to keep you occupied at work for a minute or two.
Quick poll (answer in the comments) Would you subscribe to a lo-fidelity twitter account?
By Michael Lee Johnson
no sugar or cinnamon spice,
years ago arthritis and senility took their toll.
Crippled mind movies in then out, like an old sexual adventure,
blurred in an imagination of finger tip thoughts−
who in hell remembers the characters?
There was George her lover near the bridge at the Chicago River
she missed his funeral, her friends were there.
She always made feather light of people dwelling on death.
But black and white she remembers well.
The past is the present; the present is forgotten,
Sometimes lazy time tea with a twist of lime.
Sometimes drunken time screwdriver twist with clarity.
She walks in scandals sometimes she walks in soft night shoes.
Her live-in maid smirks as Gingerbread lady gums her food,
false teeth forgotten in a custom imprinted cup
with water, vinegar, and ginger.
The maid died. Gingerbread lady looks for a new maid.
Years ago arthritis and senility took their toll.
Yesterday, a new maid walked into the nursing home.
Ginger forgot to rise out of bed,
no sugar, or cinnamon toast.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Also, the plans for Lo-Fi 4 are in the works with the Broad Set Collective doing a collaboration and featuring a writer! Be sure to stay posted on what we're doing.
Today we have a poem from Howie Good called Autumn Sonata. I'm really diggin on the flow and images. Very cool stuff Howie!
When the tree, in high dudgeon, suddenly
pushes through the polished wood floor,
and the congregation of small scared birds
disbands in confusion,
when the deaf despise the hearing,
and the night janitor at the Museum of Mad Ideas
wipes with special care
the shatterproof glass under which
Hitler’s voice rages,
and I shed my coat on the ground
and lie down beside her,
as we curl gratefully into each other,
what is real is whatever isfaded, or broken, or falling.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Also, if you've contributed to lo-fidelity and have one of your other works published elsewhere, feel free to tell us about it, we'd love to tell everyone!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
50 to 1 has restarted! If you don't know about it, here's some information from the about page:
an ezine that posts only 50 word stories and first line inspirational sentences that are meant to get the reader hooked into the rest of the story. By limiting our readership to these conventions we hope to liberate them from the terror of writing a short story or a novel and get more stories out into the collective unconsciousness and share the experiences that make us human.
If you have something to say in 50 words or in 1 sentence, please submit it! Also, don't forget to bookmark the site so that you can see the other cool stories that are up there.