Help us celebrate by coming to the CRLiterature chat room this Saturday, August 17 from 1pm-3pm Pacific Time - see what that is in your time zone here. Keep reading to the bottom of this journal for the list of June Literature DDs that will be discussed.
We believe that discussion with friends and peers is a valuable part of how a reader experiences literature, and since the Daily Deviations are some of the best literature that DA has to offer, they are particularly suited to casual and thoughtful conversation. Not to mention that it's a good way to get artists talking that might not cross paths otherwise.
How is this different from a critique chat?
Rather than an opportunity to give and receive suggestions for improvement, this chat event is primarily an interactive experience for literature appreciators. For the purposes of this discussion, we will treat the deviations as finished works of literature, much like the poems or stories that we might read in a magazine.
What do I need to do to prepare?
If you don't have time to do anything to prepare, that's fine, just come to the chat! We strongly recommend that you check out the list of deviations below that we intend to discuss. To keep things running smoothly, it is helpful if folks who plan on coming to the chat read those ahead of time... This is especially important for the longer prose works.
The Short List
July's come and gone, but its list of DDs stands strong. Thus, we bring you this list of literature that we plan to discuss on Saturday, consisting entirely of July DDs whose authors will be at the chat.
Gold LeafI am alight, with love,
Fabled leaves have turned to gold,
With stacks of coins at their roots;
I am drawing a blank.
I lie my head in your lap,
As we sit beneath the eaves,
Dreaming of another world...
One where we can be together
Without fear or problems or worry,
A place where only peace lives...
We remain here until
Gilded foliage parts, showing us the way,
Running by the tarnished lakeside,
That mirrors ancient lore...
The only way out...
Through the past,
Into the forest
Where your soul awaits,
Yet somehow, I know...
I will never find you.
dying curtainshow weighs nothing
but the days that bury their hands in our dreams,
dropping their branches beside the tree -
too tired to read the rain in me,
or the dust lifting my fingers
to close my eyes.
how has become the hours
spread among the ants.
RogerI saw your ghost today,
While sitting at your old workbench,
In familiar loops and curls of blue ball-point-pen
A few meager left-hand-written letters and numbers
That bore a date that passed years ago.
The knowlege you shared clicking over in my brain
Guiding my working hands-
You're still here every day as I repair time-
Grease pot, case opener,
(That tool now forever referred to as 'the yellow thingie')
Screwdrivers of magnificently tiny size-
All the pieces there-
Dial and hands,
One, two, three,
Crown and stem, quartz movement,
Gaskets, setting lever, date wheels,
Everything ticking over.
A younger me once asked you "What's a horologist?"
You laughed and replied "you're one right now."
I pause time briefly meaningless.
My old teacher,
I still expect you to walk through the door-
Folding the years old note,
As I'm working I can almost
ExultQuick frissons of joy, like a harpist
on the planck scale.
The sun is out. All has
tunneled into green. I am
an animal, after all, and so
like the lambs in my mother’s field
I want to kick up my heels.
Spring wilds through me—-my marrow
puts forth flowers. Gold and springwater.
A little easy dopamine,
honey-suckle sweet, and look, God’s
got nothing on me.
FFM 13: The Presence You MissYou don't realize how long you're checking for someone's shadow until you've moved into their room completely. You find that you can use their pencil cases but not their clothes. You donate to charity.
You don't think that anyone can be angry for years. But you are wormwood, and you have anger. They say having such a negative emotion will exhaust you. It instead keeps you doing.
You don't realize you remembered a birthday until you see the number 13 popping up like a daisy. A number you wish would pass like any other day.
You don't realize you want to send an angry missive, berating someone for all their sins. But that moment passes. One day, you will outline their sins on print. Because then you will get an answer.
Count to a TrillionCount to a trillion. It wasn't the largest number they could think of, but it was the largest one that seemed possible to count to in the short time remaining. There were roughly only 1.4 seconds left, but in the mind of a computer, that was a very long time indeed.
In the many years that Axon-048 had lived, he had learned a great many things about the sentient species of the galaxy, their reasons for existing, and their desperate search for meaning in a largely uncaring and endless universe. It was interesting that the simpler the species, the more likely any member was to find actual peace, contentment, or meaning in their own lives. The more complex the organism, and extending to the complexity of the society in which the creature existed, tended to complicate rather than facilitate a greater finding of truth.
That would be truth, with a little 't'. The big 'T' truth seemed reserved for the very most basic functions of physics and the universe - beyond that, everything was essential
Look Like ThemThe sirens start to wail.
John turns as he shouts, swinging a rucksack of stolen provisions onto his back. By the time we see torch beams flicking about in the hands of guards heading this way – the section where their spotlights aren’t working – we’re all running for the fence.
“Keep up, Jinny.”
Easier for you, Em, you’re taller and it’s all legs. Back here in the shortarse division, we get to dodge and hide more often.
Which is what I’m off to do. There’s no way I can make the fence. I’m not convinced Em can, but at least she has a chance.
Sliding under an overturned truck I pull myself up against the back of the cab, hopefully merging the outline of my form with the accumulated crap already under here.
I hear a shot. Nothing to do but wait. Hopefully they aren’t led by zealots determined to exterminate the evil scroungers threatening the glorious New Era government by stealing a few cans of fo
RachegeistAls sie sich das erste Mal begegneten, war bereits sicher, dass sie beide sterben würden. Er war ein seit langem gesuchter Dieb, sie war zwar unschuldig, aber weil sie ihm half, hatte auch sie keine Chance zu überleben. Obwohl es keiner von beiden wusste, sollten sie beide am Galgen enden.
Es war ein ruhiger Sommertag, als er aus dem Haus floh, das er bestohlen hatte, durch das Fenster, durch das er auch hereingekommen war, und ihr in die Arme lief. Sie war die jüngste Tochter des Bürgermeisters und hatte nur Gerüchte über den Dieb gehört, der seit einiger Zeit die Stadt unsicher machte. Als sie ihn vor dem Haus traf, erkannte sie ihn nicht als Dieb, sondern sah nur einen attraktiven Mann, der sie anlächelte. Bevor der Büttel ihn verfolgte, nahm der junge Mann dem Mädchen das Versprechen ab, ihn um Mitternacht am See zu treffen.
Sie hatte dabei natürlich romantische Gedanken und war lange vor Mitternacht am vereinbarten Treffpunkt.
A Death You Can't RhymeI didn't feel any trepidation about visiting my half-brother until I got off the Interstate. I had been fine on the flight from New York to Tampa, relaxed at the rental car agency, and even delighted driving downtown by the city skyline. But as I passed by all the eastern suburbs and got off the exit for Ruskin and headed east, I got a feeling way down in my stomach that was either caused by emotion or by cilantro. I hadn't had any of the latter in quite some time.
Motoring through the retirement community of Sun City was pleasant enough, and it still made me feel like I was near to modern civilization. But once I got past that, and then the small town of Wimauma, civilization began thin out in a hurry. I drove on another little while and passed through a town called Fort Lonesome that, as far as I know, only consists of a convenience store and an electrical substation. "There is truth in advertising," I thought to myself.
Not long after that I cross
We're All RightI heard him scream, and rushed out of the bedroom.
He was writhing on the floor, clawing at his neck, and the kids were backed far away from him in fear and confusion. It only took a moment to notice the rope on the floor, and put two and two together to realize what had happened.
"Marcellus, it's not on you! You're fine!" I darted over to him, falling down to his side and pulling his shoulders and head into my body. He kicked and flopped a few times as if to stand, but finally stopped and simply panted and gasped into me. "It's okay, you're okay..." I soothed him, as I stood him up.
I turned to hustle him into the bedroom, but I heard a timid, "Mom?" behind us.
I felt torn in half. They all needed me at the same time. I hesitated, looking between them and him.
"I... I'll be right back. Sit on the couch. I'll be right back. You're not in trouble. I need to talk to you, but right now I have to talk to daddy. I'll be right back. You're not in trouble."
And the door shut behind us.
Come out and support your fellow artists. This event is open to everyone in the DA Community and we're hoping to see you there!