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In my other life I study Transpersonal Psychology and Religion and my passion is interfaith relations, so I was excited to get a call yesterday offering me the position of Burlington Religion Examiner for Examiner.com. If you’re in the Burlington Vermont area, or are planning on visiting, check out my page for the city’s religious events and festivals.
http://www.examiner.com/x-1143-Burlington-Religion-Examiner
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
A Song Parody
I’m a big fan of the folk singer/songwriter Dar Williams, and while I was at the Esalen Institute I penned this parody of her song “Traveling III,” which can be found on her LP Mortal City.
I’m open for comments and/or constructive criticism, and please, don’t forget to check out my other writing spots:
http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/323193/cindy_marcelle.html
and
http://www.brighthub.com/members/bkwoodsvt.aspx
Traveling III
I’ve never had a way with diets
But the meals at Esalen make
Make me wish
That I could
And I’ve never found a way to say
No thank you
But if the chance came by – Oh I,
I would
In Vermont where I come from
We eat a lot of smoked pork
We don’t like to eat cheese unless it’s extra sharp cheddar
And we walk through the woods
Shooting deer
And at night we walk into to our houses and burn
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
How I long to eat
Just a little bit
To dance down in the dome and forget about my legs
But I fear that to fall in love with here
Is to fall from a great and gruesome height
So you know I asked a friend about it
She’s a vegan
Her plate she had just emptied
She sat down on a bench
(There are no chairs)
And she said: Eat some Kale, Eat some fruit
But not dairy
The chefs here use a whole lot of cream
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Once I ate everything
Didn’t give it up
For the beauty of a flat stomach
But for us
I came this far
Across the country
Defying both our limits and with no money
(I won’t do it again)
For tonight I went running
Through the lodge door letting Ruby in
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Belvidere
And you were not thinking of me
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
I’m open for comments and/or constructive criticism, and please, don’t forget to check out my other writing spots:
http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/323193/cindy_marcelle.html
and
http://www.brighthub.com/members/bkwoodsvt.aspx
Traveling III
I’ve never had a way with diets
But the meals at Esalen make
Make me wish
That I could
And I’ve never found a way to say
No thank you
But if the chance came by – Oh I,
I would
In Vermont where I come from
We eat a lot of smoked pork
We don’t like to eat cheese unless it’s extra sharp cheddar
And we walk through the woods
Shooting deer
And at night we walk into to our houses and burn
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
How I long to eat
Just a little bit
To dance down in the dome and forget about my legs
But I fear that to fall in love with here
Is to fall from a great and gruesome height
So you know I asked a friend about it
She’s a vegan
Her plate she had just emptied
She sat down on a bench
(There are no chairs)
And she said: Eat some Kale, Eat some fruit
But not dairy
The chefs here use a whole lot of cream
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Once I ate everything
Didn’t give it up
For the beauty of a flat stomach
But for us
I came this far
Across the country
Defying both our limits and with no money
(I won’t do it again)
For tonight I went running
Through the lodge door letting Ruby in
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Belvidere
And you were not thinking of me
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
A Song Parody
I’m a big fan of the folk singer/songwriter Dar Williams, and while I was at the Esalen Institute I penned this parody of her song “Traveling III,” which can be found on her LP Mortal City.
I’m open for comments and/or constructive criticism, and please, don’t forget to check out my other writing spots:
http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/323193/cindy_marcelle.html
and
http://www.brighthub.com/members/bkwoodsvt.aspx
Traveling III
I’ve never had a way with diets
But the meals at Esalen make
Make me wish
That I could
And I’ve never found a way to say
No thank you
But if the chance came by – Oh I,
I would
In Vermont where I come from
We eat a lot of smoked pork
We don’t like to eat cheese unless it’s extra sharp cheddar
And we walk through the woods
Shooting deer
And at night we walk into to our houses and burn
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
How I long to eat
Just a little bit
To dance down in the dome and forget about my legs
But I fear that to fall in love with here
Is to fall from a great and gruesome height
So you know I asked a friend about it
She’s a vegan
Her plate she had just emptied
She sat down on a bench
(There are no chairs)
And she said: Eat some Kale, Eat some fruit
But not dairy
The chefs here use a whole lot of cream
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Once I ate everything
Didn’t give it up
For the beauty of a flat stomach
But for us
I came this far
Across the country
Defying both our limits and with no money
(I won’t do it again)
For tonight I went running
Through the lodge door letting Ruby in
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Belvidere
And you were not thinking of me
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
I’m open for comments and/or constructive criticism, and please, don’t forget to check out my other writing spots:
http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/323193/cindy_marcelle.html
and
http://www.brighthub.com/members/bkwoodsvt.aspx
Traveling III
I’ve never had a way with diets
But the meals at Esalen make
Make me wish
That I could
And I’ve never found a way to say
No thank you
But if the chance came by – Oh I,
I would
In Vermont where I come from
We eat a lot of smoked pork
We don’t like to eat cheese unless it’s extra sharp cheddar
And we walk through the woods
Shooting deer
And at night we walk into to our houses and burn
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
How I long to eat
Just a little bit
To dance down in the dome and forget about my legs
But I fear that to fall in love with here
Is to fall from a great and gruesome height
So you know I asked a friend about it
She’s a vegan
Her plate she had just emptied
She sat down on a bench
(There are no chairs)
And she said: Eat some Kale, Eat some fruit
But not dairy
The chefs here use a whole lot of cream
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Once I ate everything
Didn’t give it up
For the beauty of a flat stomach
But for us
I came this far
Across the country
Defying both our limits and with no money
(I won’t do it again)
For tonight I went running
Through the lodge door letting Ruby in
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Belvidere
And you were not thinking of me
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Oh oh, oh oo oh, oh oh, oh ooh ooo oh – Esalen
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Musings of Fiction
Today was my first full day of freelance writing and let me tell you, I’m tired! I am currently going through a trial arrangement with Urban News Magazine in the hopes of becoming either a column or feature contributor – or both! But between that and my gig at Bright Hub, I can tell my fingers will be busy for a while.
But I love it. I feel a sense of satisfaction that I haven’t had with any other job. I get to do what I love and I get to do it where I love being. No stale 9 – 5 jobs, uncomfortable work close, or showering before 2 pm. Not for me! Today I was invited to join the Gaming Console channel on Bright Hub and so (for part of my work) I played Wii and wrote about it. Does it get better?!
I spend a lot of my time writing technical reviews and how-to’s, and I’d like to use this blog to share my creative side, and if you like what you read, please visit my other pages - I’m always looking for the right gig!
He was behind her before she knew it. Wet with dishwater, her hands trembled. She wished she had a knife in the sink.
“It’s been a long time, little girl.” She recognized his voice, it was deep. She was grateful she hadn’t herd it during the trial because she was crumbling right now, and now was not the time to crumble.
“This is a very scenic road you’re on. I’ve always loved fall.” She turned and whipped her hands, met his eyes, and pushed up her sleeves, matching tattoo for tattoo. It had been a long time and she wasn’t a little girl. This was her house.
“The boyfriend is gone. Nice beard.” He chuckled and moved forward. Her back was against the wall, hand on the gun behind the bedroom curtain. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.
“Are you going to use that?” She could smell Camels.
“If I have to.” The barrel rested on her shoulder. Prayers flooded in and out of her with every breath and the Lord’s Prayer steadied her hands. Her lips trembled with words and she could see his dilated eyes burn red. His faith was not as merciful, and his hands grabbed hers, and the gun, and with a blast of courage she swung the butt around.
The first hit was to the nose and stunned him, the second to the jaw, and the third to the throat – hard. His wind was gone and he was down. Red revenge boiled her blood and her own breath had been taken.
Beaten and sullen, she sank to the floor and dropped the weapon to her side. The hunting rife looked bulky and heavy next to her and in a daze she wondered how she had swung so hard. And then she remembered.
His body lay limp and a pool was forming under his neck. She could hear his breath and it sounded shallow, weak, and wet. Glistening against the dark of his blood was a golden cross, still attached.
“Lord, Forgive Me of My Trespasses”
© Cindy Marcelle, 2008
But I love it. I feel a sense of satisfaction that I haven’t had with any other job. I get to do what I love and I get to do it where I love being. No stale 9 – 5 jobs, uncomfortable work close, or showering before 2 pm. Not for me! Today I was invited to join the Gaming Console channel on Bright Hub and so (for part of my work) I played Wii and wrote about it. Does it get better?!
I spend a lot of my time writing technical reviews and how-to’s, and I’d like to use this blog to share my creative side, and if you like what you read, please visit my other pages - I’m always looking for the right gig!
He was behind her before she knew it. Wet with dishwater, her hands trembled. She wished she had a knife in the sink.
“It’s been a long time, little girl.” She recognized his voice, it was deep. She was grateful she hadn’t herd it during the trial because she was crumbling right now, and now was not the time to crumble.
“This is a very scenic road you’re on. I’ve always loved fall.” She turned and whipped her hands, met his eyes, and pushed up her sleeves, matching tattoo for tattoo. It had been a long time and she wasn’t a little girl. This was her house.
“The boyfriend is gone. Nice beard.” He chuckled and moved forward. Her back was against the wall, hand on the gun behind the bedroom curtain. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.
“Are you going to use that?” She could smell Camels.
“If I have to.” The barrel rested on her shoulder. Prayers flooded in and out of her with every breath and the Lord’s Prayer steadied her hands. Her lips trembled with words and she could see his dilated eyes burn red. His faith was not as merciful, and his hands grabbed hers, and the gun, and with a blast of courage she swung the butt around.
The first hit was to the nose and stunned him, the second to the jaw, and the third to the throat – hard. His wind was gone and he was down. Red revenge boiled her blood and her own breath had been taken.
Beaten and sullen, she sank to the floor and dropped the weapon to her side. The hunting rife looked bulky and heavy next to her and in a daze she wondered how she had swung so hard. And then she remembered.
His body lay limp and a pool was forming under his neck. She could hear his breath and it sounded shallow, weak, and wet. Glistening against the dark of his blood was a golden cross, still attached.
“Lord, Forgive Me of My Trespasses”
© Cindy Marcelle, 2008
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