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CREATE!

Lunch at Seawolf 8.13.22

8/13/2022

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Summer Things.

7/24/2022

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Sharing what I read at Chapter 10 Literary Open Mic on 7/22/22-enjoy! 

​Summer things.
In summer all I write about is bugs and love.
My skin is crawling because of their last meal. I was the main dish.
My skin is crawling because I want you so bad.
 
Beneath my skin-
My heart is getting dressed for the day but discovers its’ favorite dress is still at the cleaners, the right foot to their favorite boots is somehow misplaced, and somehow the water is turned off. Shower be damned, my heart starts moving.
My heart is out on a walk but keeps getting lost. Wants to disregard a map thinking it unnecessary but admits a few signs might be helpful.
I’m reluctantly feeling while alongside the slow stroll of the sun behind the clouds. Today I feel the same as the sun. I feel the sun trying to so hard to show up, but the sky’s space is all booked up.
Without days like today- the value of such a space doesn’t exist.
 
Back in my skin, now on the surface, those very raindrops the sky has made room for, decorate my walk.
Yes, I’m still walking.
Skin still crawling. We aren’t speaking but I’m still wanting.
I turn towards a side street full of awnings allowing my skin to breathe a bit undercover.
When the cars are at the stop light or everyone has rushed inside for warmth a certain silence presents itself – I can hear and smell my favorite gift from the sky.
The light is nice and rewarding but I will always love the variety, the intensity, the cleansing
Of drops
On my skin.
I wonder how the bugs feel. 

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Literary Open Mic Wednesday 10/13 8pm Fiction Bar 308 Hooper St BK, NY 11211

10/10/2021

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Come and share your words with your neighbors! Bring your original work and an open mind! A safe space to create and share! Looking forward to seeing you all- cheers to getting inspired! 
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Marco, Polo.

8/7/2021

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With each step you shout 'Marco'
Hearing 'Polo' in the soon to be filled barstool next to you, new friends as replies
'Polo' written in code, sewn into the stitches of a vintage sweater, worn by the subject atop the newly warmed stool.
I inquire 'Where from?' (asking)
'Who owned it before you?' (assuming) 
'Your Grandma made it?!' (appreciating) 
Tell me more about her. 

You want to know the time. 
The line outside the pizza shop tells you it's time to go home. 
Probably should drink water. 
Seconds pass quickly, feeling the weight. 
The time you can't get back. 
The time you laughed freely but still not as much as your soul needed.
Similar to not saying everything you had intended to that one time.

Marching Marcos hailing a cab, befriending a bike, or greeting a bustop.
'Do you know when the next bus comes?' (asking) 
'Thank you. Ah that breeze sure feels nice.' (acknowledging)
'Have a good night!' (a goodbye) 

Marco, Polo.
Marco, Polo. 
Marco, Polo. 

to be continued..

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Committed Relationship with my Mailbox

5/3/2020

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​5:27 pm on a Friday night. I have realized my entire day’s decisions were surrounded by the status of my mailbox.  I wouldn’t take a walk out of fear I may miss a delivery. Harsh desperation in the form of the care package full of surprises, but mainly my grandma’s cookies, that hasn’t showed. During this time where your loved ones feel so much farther and your studio apartment is not equipped with a real oven, home baked anything is nostalgic gold. Today was not the day. My real, true heartbreak discovered during quarantine is defined by either a package undelivered or a dark and pitifully empty mailbox.  

Moving on, since I am confident my package will arrive tomorrow, let’s talk about my experience as a third wheel neighbor to the adorable first date happening in front of my building. The shared sidewalk outside my door served as his pitstop while out on a run, and no he didn’t forget the flowers (props are everything). He stopped in perfect view of the smitten girl three floors up who was now shouting while halfway out her window.  Assuming they met online and in order to avoid any post quarantine possible catfish scenarios they conducted an ‘in-person’ screening. Inside my first level residency my ears are front row, almost as if I were dining next to them in a restaurant. Remember dining in restaurants? After a few exchanges they both snapped a pic so they could tell all their friends that romance is not dead. They’ll now have something other than text exchanges about sexy sweat suits or complaints about dishes, again, to remember this time.

I hope it works out for them! I will be listening and waiting (for my package that is).
​
Since we have now returned to the topic of mail, because let’s face it waiting until the height of the afternoon to make the short jaunt outside my door to check if anything has appeared is the highlight of my day, let me introduce you to Tanya. Tanya works at the post office in my neighborhood where I visit once a week to ship any outgoing packages on my to do list. I realized the thought of her not being there would make me really quite sad. Seeing her had turned out to be something that was sure, that I could count on. An infrequent feeling during such uncertainty that I wasn’t ready to let go of, especially not without saying goodbye, or the more common phrase of the current time, “Stay safe!!”. Tanya was still there last time I visited. She does deserve a day off from the fear and risk paired with being dubbed essential, but I just hope she is aware of the part she plays in my new routine. The potential of my physical love life may be postponed but the simplicity of common interactions with community has distracted any hope of loneliness.
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YELLOW.

4/25/2020

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​A fearless protest to quieter hues.
Arriving in an overwhelming display. 
Exaggerated, loud. 
A mental manifestation preaching joy. 
Animated highs and lows. 
Begging us to acknowledge the seconds we just lost.
A persistent presence proving summer isn't it's only definition.
Not just the rays or the glow. 
It's also the reminder after sunset .
The fresh feeling after revival.
Success after exhaustion. 
A sickness. 
A subscription to all it's shades. 
Bright. 
Ready. 

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    BECKA OLSON

    I like to create and I like to share. Check out some of it here. More goods to come!

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