Faces tell. Happy faces. Sad faces. Angry faces. What say they?
Faces reveal, mask much more. Angry complaint counter face or lane-jockeying driver – not worked up over failed toasters or rush hour gridlock. Likely leaking their life, stewed day they’re having.
Toaster complaints or road-rage – just outlets.
Can creative outlets be effective?
Some days nothing soothes better.
Writing something scathing – then deleting.
Blows off an issue, without damage.
Reconciling how things are with way we wish they were, having need, want or desire in that moment – unable to fulfill. Ice cream tubs, KFC buckets, I’ve found them temporary fixes accompanied by lingering fat. Debauchery? Self-destructive self-punishment.
Writing fiction, I add rage to my character’s stage – acting it out for me. Harmless pages, reading shows it as plausible, or not, angst-justifying, or not.
I leave it in.
Characters have everything available – whatever I give them.
We live in real-time moments, surreal, ensnarled in du jour drama.
My phones, are gently cradled.
column written/ published from Calgary
morning walk: -1C / 30F, sunny, gentle breeze, warmer, walking by the cemetery it was nice to see all those plastic flowers looking fresh (washed by the rain) giving no signs of having been there all winter.
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