#weeklywriting

prompt: poem on the topic of “fish”

i did two poems. i fear they are both nonsense LOL. 

could you pick which one you like better and tell me why? or let me know that you don’t enjoy either, too! 

the formatting is wonky for 2. because html is not mi amigo.

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1.

early in the morning, i open the fridge really quietly so as not to wake my roommate and i take out my fish.

my frozen iced-over red-bean-stuffed fish-shaped korean bread.

two because you i need a hearty breakfast.

microwave for one minute one side, one minute other side,

then move to the toaster for crispiness on setting three.

wrap the warm fish in half a paper towel (save the earth),

open the door gingerly, bite into fish outside.

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2.

appa doesn’t like fish - because halmoni made him eat it literally everyday in rural korea - because they were poor and fish were cheap

he doesn’t like it when my little brother and i eat fish - he’ll catch the slightest secret whiff as soon as he steps into the house - wrinkle his nose, his forehead takes on the form of his tummy rolls but more - “you’re eating fish… ugh…”

i didn’t even have an opportunity to decide whether i like fish or not!

mom couldn’t make it often because of all of his complaining my little brother didn’t care

prompt: describe your most/least favorite sound/smell. it’s been a long “week” since the last post and this. thanks for the prompt suggestion, christine!! i hope we do it justice... o_o

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the sound of my mother’s strained, sharp voice, faithful every morning when i lived under my parents’ roof: “김부미! 일어나!!!” calling me by my full korean name, yelling at me to get up out of bed. no gentle tap on the shoulder, no sweet smile coaxing me into the new day like they show you in american movies-- just mom’s shrill voice traveling a ways from downstairs, straining upstairs into my room over the sound of breakfasts and lunches being cooked simultaneously at her dextrous hands.

i call out, heavy-lidded and intensely protective of the warmth bubble i’ve nurtured during the past night’s sleep: “네!!!” shouting in the same high-pitched tone, even louder-- you gotta sound awake-- yes!!! buy some time that way, then try to get two more minutes of eye-rest at least while the sounds of the morning rage on: classical music as the daily soundtrack downstairs, my father talking to my mother about quotidian stuff, asking for his food, closing and shutting the garden patio door as he brings in a single flower, the product of our small garden for the day, to my mother.

i can almost hear her taking a deep breath, rearing up for the next alarm:

“김부미! 일어났어?!!!” am i awake? mother, of course i am. 

all the noise of the morning, and your alarm goes off again, this time for my brother.

prompt: something about your favorite body part (or just a body part)

must spend more time on these things. am lacking effort and time. but chugging onwards.

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my dream as a teacher

make me an elbow,

to be a connector between slightly different parts,

to allow for flexibility, greater range.

to equip for creativity of expression,

to bring a child inwards for protection,

to extend young women and men outwards for release—

to be scuffed, and unrecognized, and unseen,

prompt: your favorite form of nonverbal communication (such a great prompt; thanks Jon!)

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the sidewalk on banks st. has always been on the narrow side, and it was narrower tonight because of all the snow piled up on it. it wouldn't have mattered anyway on a night like this, because a couple was coming from the opposite way, hand-holding adamantly. the sidewalk couldn't have accommodated all three of us, even on a sunny day.

i was only walking home, but who knows? maybe they were off to a dinner date, a movie, a play-- something together, something twofold, something doubly important. instinctively, i stepped to the side as they, clasping mittened hands, walked quickly past me. 

as i snuck a quick glance at their hands in partnership, without knowing why and how— i found that i had shaken my bag from off my shoulder and was now holding on tightly to its leather handle.

how weird of you, i berated myself internally. what if they think you think they're robbers. what awkward, potentially offensive behavior on your part!

but i had either shivered or shrugged my bag off, the deed was done, and i was now holding hands with my bag. it (he?) felt comforting, like the fact that i had some sort of substance to clutch on to gave me purpose and better posture. 

prompt today: You have three hundred words to justify the existence of your favorite person, place, or thing. Failure to convince will result in it vanishing without a trace. Go!

wrote this: on my phone, on the train. word count: 185, because today i was cold and tired.

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please, I beg of you, you must keep the heat running in the t. it's not enough to count on body heat, especially for those of us who don't travel at peak hours. we wait in the chill and count down the extremely experientially dragged-out minutes until the train will come, so don't! don't take away my anticipation, my excitement about getting on the train. 

here, let me focus on the best parts of being on a warm train, which include but are not limited to: 1) eavesdropping, 2) creating fictional (in my mind, completely realistic and evidence-based; I check my surroundings quite thoroughly; my surreptitious glances) narratives for the people I see on the train, 3) listening to (and even sometimes smiling at!) podcasts to tune out the fact that this large person next to me and I are thigh-touching. 

Prompt: Think of something that truly repulses you. Hold that thought until your skin squirms. Now, write a glowing puff piece about its amazing merits.

disclaimer: a little bawdy. i cannot help but that this topic came to mind.

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i am a tapeworm, and no one finds me cute.

there is much out there about me that simply isn't the truth,

so if you are willing, let's get to the root.

  firstly-- we are animals too,

an endangered species, actually! just not in a zoo

like all your majestic tigers, and lions, and cockatoos,

  just because we're not snuggly

or fuzzy, and more wriggly

than cuddly, you all treat us wrongly.

  and i'm especially offended that you

think us parasites; that's simply so rude.