Speed
The bus was late again for the 50-millionth time. Lindy looked disgustedly at her watch. Her stomach growled, quietly, but persistantly. When the bus roared around the corner she shook her head. I should of just walked, she thought, as the bus came to a quick stop. Climbing on and selecting her seat, she tried to avoid all the usual faces. Mentally slow, impoverished, homeless, foreign. The usual bag of tricks. With a few token normal people thrown in- college students, like herself. As the bus pressed on, she day-dreamed about being in the movie "Speed." The bus was going 50 m.p.h., and inexplicably avoiding all traffic. Soon she would take the wheel, and the man with the beard and cane up front would morph into Keanu Reeves.

The bus driver called out for transfers. They were running later than Lindy thought. "15," "18," "16," the numbers were called out from different seats. "14," she thought to herself but didn't say aloud. Being a hero requires a bit of sacrifice.

A Dollar Bill Story (I)
So. I'm in Creative Writing class, anxious to hear what we will be doing with our "dollar bill experiment." Hearing a few fellow students grumble about not having dollars with them doesn't surprise me. We find out that our task is to give our dollars away to strangers- without telling them why. A delighted smile spreads across my face, because this is cool! I love the idea. After being given a few simple instructions, we pile out of class robotically. Other than the rustling of bodies and paper and chairs moving, we are all weirdly quiet. Is everyone pissed, or just deep in thought? I can't seem to stop giggling to myself. Shuffling down the hall like the dutifull group we are, we remain together. Down the stairs we go, only casual comments here and there. Then, breaking off gradually, the brave ones leave us. I watch them, impressed. The urge to follow is strong- they are doing well. I follow a few to the main lounge area of the Union, down the slanted isle, past the decorated displays. Here I find the courage to look around for my target. Chosing a gentle looking chap with glasses on his book-covered nose, I approach. Pushing the dollar towards him, I say "Here." He looks up and says, "What's this for." I say (forgetting the rules) "I have to give you this-it's for a class." His response strikes me quite amusingly. "Oh- ok." He then takes the dollar and puts his nose right back in the book. What amazes me is the complete understanding he had in his voice as he took the money. It seems there is a mutual knowledge of the goofy things you may be forced to do in school.

A Dollar Bill Story (II)
When the assignment was given, she smiled. A nice change of pace, this one would be. Trusty dollar in hand she followed the others out the door. Laughing to herself, she had no thoughts on where to go- it was easier to let her classmates show the way. Seeing a brave soul break off on his own, she glanced into an open study room, and saw three blonds sitting at a large round table, watching a fourth jabber away on her cell-phone. A few seconds contemplation over-ruled that idea. A brief scan of the room revealed a guy with his back to the doorway, on a couch in front of a large t.v. Was it really fair to approach from behind? Nah, not done in the Old West, and not done now. Discouraged, the student headed down the slanted hall to the main lounge area of the Union. This looked more promising. The quiet guy studying looked like a winner. Forgetting to remain mute, she handed the dollar over. Telling him it was for a class was all it took for him to accept the dollar- without thanks, she noted.

Writer's blogs
I had much more luck with "writer's blog" searches
than with "creative blog" searches.
I found a great site that bills itself as a "weblog for writers."
Inkygirl.com has a cute design, and a link to
Bramblestory.com, which is all about interactive
writing. You can add to current story lines, and it has a red
pepper icon that tells you what storylines are "hot" right now!
Inkygirl also had a section for "Telecommuting Writing Jobs."
There was a listing for a job in NY as a freelance writer to write short
blurbs for various websites on different subjects...interesting!

Imitation Poetry of poems by Anne Carson

Town of Boredom
See them.
All racing to unimportant places.
For no good reason.
Cars like fighting bugs.
Forgetting the destination.
Do you see them?
Cold, wooden wind-up toys.
That never stop.

Fear Town
Ice melting on my shoes.
Were making squeaks like children.
Running past my black window.
Closed to shut out the Monday.

New Media Poetry
Under the "Burning Press" link, I checked out the Cleveland Leaves Chapbook Series.
I read "Torture Chamber", because I was intrigued by the title.
I would recommend this poem, because it is really interesting to read.
Using mis-spellings and wordsruntogether, it gives it a unique twist.
I loved the line "Glade Fresh Rooms", and the ending line where is says:
"AAAAAAAH"
Very humorous.
Still, I would have changed some of the mis-spellings and run together words.
It seemed like a little much.

Under "An Index to Concrete Poetry", I followed the Title Index to Concrete-Visual Poetry, and
under Biography of Concrete and Visual Poetry I clicked on the letter "H" and found "Haiku Poet's Hut."
This was very enjoyable to view. I liked the "fading" into each page when you get to the site. A neat effect.
I viewed "Haibun & Essays: On haiku, the moon & a visit." Very sweet- nice to see a simple picture with a haiku. The site also has a "Visual Haiku Index" where you view photos and submit your own haiku's about them. Nice idea.

Some of the other links I followed seemed to be too time-consuming or boring, but these were worth checking out.

Kristin Gruber

Peace... on the Wall

The thick, wooden utensil on the pale wall
Commanded the end of disobedience.
Simply formed, smooth and rounded
A promise of punishment
Doled out at will.
Clouded thoughts of the past
My youth and yesterday
An ornament signifying togetherness and love
Or
A cold, hard threat of a remedy to disorder
Reigning over every hot meal
Providing certain unity over possible disjunction

The spoon hangs above the cluttered table
Not a threat
but a promise of peace.

Creative Writing is your thoughts, feelings and ideas put into words.
It is for the verbal expression of what you want to say to yourself, or others.
It can be made-up or true to life.
I am taking this class to explore my writing abilities. I hope to improve my skills in writing to entertain the reader.