By Marilyn Friedman
For your recession pleasure, the all day Show and Tell class with the successful writer, Aaron Henne is more affordable! Four hours of writing exercises and lecture on this valuable topic priced at only $100 ($110 for new students)! What a deal! Call 323-333-2954 to sign up before the class is full!--Writing Pad Show and Tell -- Sunday, Apr. 25 -- Only 3 spots left
Also, next Tues. April 13 at 8 p.m. is Chi Chi's Word Parlor. Don't miss this fantastic show of stories, improv, and music at the Atwater Playhouse. Tickets are only $8 and include a wine and cheese party. There are still a few spots available for our "Dirty" show. Email chichiswordparlor@mac.com to reserve your seat!
Writing Prompt:
Make a list of 5 articles of clothing that have been meaningful to you in your life. Perhaps you own a favorite pair of jeans or a very tacky Christmas sweater from your grandma? Pick one and write about it for 10 minutes. Then post it in the comments of this blog for the chance to win a free class!
Post on this blog! What is or was your favorite item of clothing? You could win a free class!
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7 comments:
Funny how the well worn is rarely worn well. The Disneyland 25th anniversary tee that I stole from my wife is soooo comfy, but I've worn it to the point where it is now clear (their 50th was in '05, by the way). My American Flag Cons require unpatriotic duct-tape to stop their soles a-flappin'. Somewhere on the internet is a picture of me sporting just those two items. Start searching.
Fozzie,
Great piece! I love your punny sentence, "Funny how the well worn is rarely worn well." I love that the tee is so worn that it is clear and the unpatriotic duct tape.
Marilyn
I have two words for you: pleather pants. They make me a rockstar in my own living room. I am Lindsay Lohan without the coke habit. I am the popular party girl I always dreamed I could be--all because I pulled these magical, skin tight, pleather leggings up my hips.
They are an ode in fabric to my pear shaped butt. I wore them to a writing conference, and a woman dressed like a hippie said to me, "You must be the Erotic Writing teacher."
"Why yes, I am."
To counteract my sexy pleather, I have what I call my "poetry pants": baggy green army pants that I've owned for 10 years. At one time, they were at the height of fashion. I swing danced in them at Golden Gate park.
Now, I slip them on when I want to write. They are so big that another person could probably join me inside of them. They have small holes around the pockets, and the elastic around the ankles died long ago. But they don't pinch my stomach. They help me feel relaxed so the words flow freely out of my head. My poetry pants have magical powers.
There are few articles of clothing I can remember being significant, but there is one in particular I cannot live without. It doesn't really matter what it's made out of but a belt is what keeps me together. It is the center of my gravity, it keeps me from embarrassment, it helps keep my wallet in check, and in some cases it can even hide my money for me. I clip things to it, like my phone. Officers use it to hold their gun, billy club and flashlights. It can be fashionable and decorative, with metal studs or designs, multiple holes and tassels. Though, I am not an officer nor use belts with tassels I'd have to say without it I'd just be walking around with my pants on the ground.
Fabio--I love this piece. It is like a lovely ode to a belt. I love "It is the center of my gravity, it keeps me from embarrassment." I also love the part about how officers use belts. Nice! Very funny!
My classic canvas Keds made the journey from Houston to Los Angeles the summer between seventh and eighth grade in near-pristine condition. By the end of the ninth grade they had been violated by sharpie and layers of ball-point pen - mostly black. Sometimes red, but NEVER blue. The Beatles, they read: the Doors, Siousxie and the Banshees, the Dead Kennedys. I wore them without laces and with everything, to cheerleading practice, parties and sneaking out of the house at 3 a.m. In the tenth grade they started to smell. They walked through puddles of rain and beer. By the end of high school I didn't wear them any more but kept them as some kind of souveneir. Finally, one afternoon after I was married I walked them out to the dumpster. There was a peace sign on one shoe, "FTW" on the other.
Diana,
I LOVE your story about the Keds! I love that they were "violated by sharpie and ball-point pen." I love all the things that were written on the shoes, and I love your specific list of times that the narrator wore the shoes. Fabulous! :)
Marilyn
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