thanks so much. My first novel should be released soon from vicious books, we’re just waiting for the final proof/approval. Perhaps I’ll sell enough to flee my fabric lined den of despair.
Journal, Diary, & Blogging / Coltrane and Houdini: the Wonder and Oddity of Watching the Rain
This is not how I planned to watch the rain.
The windows shouldn’t be sealed tight. The resonance of muffled conversations and half a phone call one cubicle over isn’t supposed to be my life’s soundtrack.
This isn’t how I planned it at all.
It’s a wonder, or perhaps an oddity, to sit back and reflect before the painting’s finished, but sometimes we must. Is it grand observation, a catalyst or a punch in the gut?
Harry Houdini died from a punch in the gut.
Rain is for Sunday afternoons, strong coffee and scratchy Coltrane records. Rain is for the artists and poets seeking solace, a lullaby on the rooftops, a peaceful muse that wipes the slate clean. Rain is for the city street lights, confused into action before their time; perfect for reflection.
It would seem an inconvenient thing to the passerby—merely rain, not the backdrop to something greater—those moments of pause found twisted in the smoke and sigh of solemn reflection. It would seem irrelevant to those who don’t like to get wet.
I enjoyed rain the most when I had the least in life. On those Sunday afternoons filled with coffee and Coltrane, watching tear drops running down the window pane, lights reflecting on the street below.
But today the rain is merely rain, that inconvenient thing sitting behind windows that never open.
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Fazzerelli reviewed Version 1 -
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Are you really like that? Do you work in an office cubicle? I only ask as the piece is in this category and it’s not how I imagined you at all. I guess that’s expectations and preconceptions for you! I’d treat it more like a lesson to those who really don’t appriciate the rain. The three lines that describe the past are the most beautiful, especially the city lights themselves reflecting in the wet streets (I interpreted it physically and abstractly.) Not too sure about the Houdini reference. The whole thing made me reflect on my relationship with rain – you can’t ask for more than that.
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misskara reviewed Version 1 -
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this seriously just made me cry. dear God – grant that i may never sit in a cubicle again. you are rare. a subject so mundane, trite, annoying to most – and you made it into a venue for reflection, solace, something to run into – not away from. cliche – i know – but you “get it” – your thoughts run deeply – get the f out of that cubicle!!
flawless.
bonsoirdollface reviewed Version 1 -
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The narrative gets a little fuzzy in some parts- [It’s a wonder …. punch in the gut?] and [Rain is for the city street lights.. don’t like to get wet.] could be rewritten more clearly. They’re really the only two segements that stand out as sounding wrong.
Try reading them out loud, see what you think.
imara219 reviewed Version 1 -
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For the type of writing this is (diary) it is well written and executed. You were able to pain vivid pictures. Also, in the few lines you have I did get some idea of where the character is in his/her life. You provided just the right amount, however, one small criticism, I understand the focus is suppose to be entirely on the rain, but what is he reflecting on? You dropped a few hints, but I wish this was clearer.
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