Comments on: Sybaris Rising

By: Maribeth

Maribeth — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 17:54:52 +0000

I love this.
I heard the caw of a crow this morning as I have for the past few weeks and wondered if this crow is trying to tell me something.
I filled the basket of my percolator this morning with fresh ground coffee and the smell was enough to make me anticipate my first sip.
The humming sound of my running dishwasher reminds me that we are lucky to have had enough food and drink to fill a dishwasher when others don’t have enough to fill a plate.

By: Mercedes

Mercedes — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 20:02:16 +0000

Your post was exquisitely beautiful. I read it twice because I liked your language so much.

Today I noticed:

The tears hanging on the edges of my daughter’s eyelashes reminded me of Paris.

The inside of our purple potatoes was so vibrant that I wanted to run it over my lips.

The cold seeping through the walls and window felt so invasive that I set the house alarm.

By: Ivan

Ivan — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 16:01:42 +0000

Thank you! I would now go on this blog every day! Ivan

By: Sean Locke

Sean Locke — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 09:23:45 +0000

Three sensual details? All right, I’ll bite.
- The snow was just starting to fall tonight when I got in my car, and there was the lightest dusting on my windshield. Not enough to obscure my vision, but just enough to suggest an even coating of stardust. It glittered and made my mundane garage door quite dreamlike. I admired it for a moment, but then scattered the galaxy of possibilities with a single slash of windshield wiper blades.
- The citrusy sweet smell of clementines persists on my fingers after peeling and eating half a dozen or so. It’s summery and lovely in an otherwise stark and dim cubicle farm.
- A coworker sold me a summer sausage his father-in-law had made this weekend, and I took it out of the office freezer just now. The weight of frozen meat in my hand impressed me, and I slapped one end of the forearm-length cylinder into my open palm. No better cudgel could I want, if it was necessary. Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right.

By: Simon L.

Simon L. — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 04:40:05 +0000

The way the ice slicks the bottom of my shoe sideways and the sudden unconscious flexing of muscles and tendons to catch my balance…

The way a song I’ve never heard before starts a slow simmer in my chest and a fire in my mind…

The eye contact slide with a nameless, blonde woman as I hold the door for her…

Wonderful post, good lady. You do interesting things with words.

By: Christina

Christina — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 20:41:41 +0000

- the movement of abdominal and back muscles against skin, skin against clothing while vertebrae shift back and forth like a waving pendulum up the spine, flexing and relaxing fibers until warm prickles of blood flooding back to formerly tense areas are felt and popping sounds resonate through the tube of the spine, echoing in my skull… stretching in my office chair :D
- the chilled, firm but soft, almost a bit stringy, very juicy flesh squeezed by tongue against upper dental plate, savoring aromatic bitterness in the back, sweetness in the front while the sides mainly experience the coolness, and a feeling like the entire aroma is drifting through my head to the tip of my nose … dinner time with cantaloupe fresh from the fridge!
- watching the long flame held horizontally moving over the white thin cylinder, the yellow-bright flickering accompanied by the low hiss of the lighter it originates from, blackening the wick until a second, vertical flame intersects the first one, rising up within it … lighting one of many candles this evening
:)

By: uberVU - social comments

uberVU - social comments — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 20:24:24 +0000

Social comments and analytics for this post…

This post was mentioned on Twitter by jkoyanagi: New blog post: How has being a writer changed the way you see the world? http://bit.ly/4Fgssw #amwriting #amwritingparty…

By: LK Gardner-Griffie

LK Gardner-Griffie — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 20:16:21 +0000

As I arrived at work this morning and parked my car, I looked the gap in the structure to where the wind blew through the trees, noting the randomness as it swirled through leaving no branch untouched. Although already late starting my day, I took a moment to simply experience and tried to formulate how I would write this particular scene, wondering all the while why a cold wind through the trees always evokes a feeling of melancholy and whether my sensory memory is enough to convey the same in writing.

By: Nicole

Nicole — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 19:23:21 +0000

The amount of softness and crunchiness in the sugar cookies I ate, as I am more partial to the softer ones.

The way the sparrow figured out a way to eat the suet from the basket, sneaky bugger. He figured he could perch on top instead of hanging from the side the way the wrens and woodpeckers do.

All the little seed bits littering the front doorstep. I’m still not exactly sure where they’re coming from (birds yes, but which tree?)

By: Michelle

Michelle — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 18:55:13 +0000

I don’t fancy myself a writer; I leave that to the beautiful word weavers such as yourself! However, some of the sensual details I’ve noticed today were:

The way the morning dawn bathed the skyline with a golden blanket against a milky sky. It’s always my favorite view, but this one was particularly intriguing~

A well-wrapped gift placed on my desk. Much care was taken into every fold, so much so that the paper hugged the contents ever so tightly like a mother clinging to her young. I still can’t bear to pull the paper off.

Tiny red berries dotting the holly bushes outside of my condo. They’re vibrant and rich, facing the frosty mornings with such a delicate grace, never once losing their luster.

I love this post, and I’m glad that there are writers such as yourself who can see these visuals and take the reader on a journey to another world using only the power of words!