03 May 2008.  7:33am. We walk along the Rambla Nova, edging our way through the dense crowd.  The sun burns a bright blue, hot and oppressive in the white sky.  She walks in front of me, constantly looking back at me with those entrancing, sparkling eyes and smiling. Finally the crowd seems to thin a bit and I work my way up alongside her again.  She says something I can't make out and suddenly grabs my hand.  I'm surprised by this development, but I'm certainl...

Oh, you know how it is.  Gotta get my submission in for the JUWC. Went for a walk down to the beach on Saturday, sat there overlooking my beloved Mediterranean, and this crap showed up.  Oh well.  Nothing ever turns out as good as we want. -- Where she treads, chaos reigns. -- Waves envelop, foamy nothingness - I drown. -- Solos, somos nada. Juntos, todo. Unámonos. (Translation: Alone, we are nothing.  Together,...

For those of you who remember, last year I finally succeeded in writing a pantoum , that most annoyingly beautiful type of poetry that seems so difficult to construct but is so worth it. Lately (like so many on here) I've been suffering a nasty bout of writer's block about everything but writing down what's happening in Spain, which seems to be boring the majority of people lately since they refuse to stop by and read or comment.  (Those who do - you rock!)  But today I was able ...

It's been a long time since I've posted a "snapshot of the moment", as I've been wont to do ( here , here , and here ). ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The pine needles prick my spine as I lean back, looking up into the sky, watching the drifts of snowy clouds saunter through the blue readiness. Anticipation builds up inside me, slowly coming to a climax, abating, calming, flowing assuredly to the...

My fingernails hurt. Chewed 'em. Shit.

Two days ago I posted the newest challenge for the JU Writer's club here . I've gotten a couple comments on it, but I don't know for sure how well it's been received and whether or not people like that challenge. So, for those who want a different one, here you go. nataliedee.com Why don't you just go blog about it already?

I know, I know, I know. Maso asked me to find song lyrics back in December for the JU Writer's Club to be our next challenge. Two months have come and gone, and finally, I thought of one that could be adequate inspiration! It's a song by my all-time favorite band, Rush, from their 1994 album Counterparts. (I warned Maso that I'd probably pick a song that no-one but BlueDev and I would be familiar with, and I did. But the lyrics are substantial enough to give you the needed inspiration....

Everyone's here. Everyone's waiting. Everyone's longing to get a bite, get a bite. I stand in fear, Full of my loathing. Everyone's aching to get a bite, get a bite . . . I feel their fetid claws; They tear, they rip, they scrape; Eviscerating me - I'm trapped without escape. Everyone's here, Picking and pulling. Everyone's dying to take a bite, take a bite. I cry in pain, Pleading for darkness. Everyone's begging to take a bite, take a bite . . . I feel their fetid claw...

So . . . last night I posted a term paper here as a joke, mostly because so many people have been doing it of late. But then BlueDev warned me in the comments section that it might be plagarized.I worked my ever lovin' ASS off on this paper.So . . . down it came.It was in Spanish anyway, so not many people could have gotten it. Deep crap about the wonderful play, "La vida es sueno" (Life is a dream) by Calderon de la Barca.Oh well. Better safe than sorry. Suckers.

One of my favorite things to write is a snapshot of the moment; exactly what things are like in that exact instant – my emotions, etc. (The first two that I've posted can be found here and here .) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stark blue skies hang heavily over the valley. The mountains were salted well last night, rightly covered in the nasty white stuff. I sit in the driver's seat of my car. It's cold this mornin...

I sit in my old orange armchair. A hand-me-down from the Barlows up the street, it has been a constant companion in my thoughts for years. It's a mid-forties piece of lovely crap, older than either of my parents, but it has always served me well. I feel the worn wood of the armrests, remember each scratch and splinter. I run my fingers across the padded areas, feeling the threadbare fabric stretch. It is a good chair. My first official day of work after training begins in about two an...