Jess’s story appeared in the local newspaper when I was a young teen. She’d been badly burned in a house fire. The front page image had been black & white. Try as I might, I couldn’t purge Jess’s pain or her image from my head.
I honored her in my way. The painting I did remains with me, as she always has, hanging on a wall in my studio, where I tell Jess how beautiful she is.
It was this painting that taught me the meaning of art.
Sculpt no. 11 – Casino Limbo
The SPECTRE – The final character of Casino Limbo. Their hearts are beyond anything we understand. Their hearts are encompassing, embracing and waiting. They dance on casino tables and kick over chairs. The chains of the universe wrap around their necks. They fear endlessly for their existence and ours.
Sculpt no. 11 – Casino Limbo
Lola Lupone (named after the tragic showgirl of Copacabana fame, & Patti LuPone, whom I adored from the very first time I saw her perform, Evita, in 1979) is the third of four characters living in my latest sculpt, Casino Limbo. Lola Lupone, though stuck in Casino Limbo, doesn’t seem to care where she is. Her mind remains in love with itself, and her heart remains infatuated with her head.
(I plan to post each character individually before posting the full tableau – as they’re not full-view once positioned ’round the table.)
Sculpture no.10 – finally finished! Many, many pieces to mold when you’re attempting to create a ghost horse dragging a palette of random bones and skulls to the boneyard…
I call this piece – Ghost Guns; Homage to Jacob Marley.
The horse is named Gilpin in tribute to my favorite poetess, Laura Gilpin
This sculpt was created with air dry clay, she weighs in at 20 pounds, 2 ft long, 1 1/2 ft high, 1 1/2 ft across
I hope you’re managing the days…
am:)
A gleaming motorcycle arrived via flatbed to our suburban ranch. Six children are warned not to touch its chrome and attitude. Dad has never ridden a motorcycle before. He tells us he’ll be back later — he’s taking the bike across the George Washington Bridge. Wearing a button-up shirt, plaid Bermuda shorts, black knee socks and brown loafers, no one ever looked more badass.
Danielle Imbo and Richard Petrone disappeared in 2005, in a time before cell phones and surveillance cameras. My brother, Vito, was the lead FBI agent on this case till retiring last year (mandatory retirement age — 57). This case remains the one case that troubles him still.
The brutal truth of Danielle and Richard’s disappearance remains buried within the tight-knit neighborhoods of Philadelphia. The Imbo and Petrone families continue to suffer with the open wounds of stolen goodbyes.
I do hope you listen to “There and Gone: Missing on South Street.”
The podcast is excellent, and all 10 episodes are now free-of-charge.
Thank you,
annmarie
Apple podcast “There and Gone: Missing on South Street”
iHeart podcast “There and Gone: Missing on South Street”
Pencil sketch done a few months ago of my dear talented artist/writer friend, Clayton Buchanan, with his son, Baird.
In the early 2000s, I saw a local newspaper ad soliciting 101 word stories. For some reason, I was drawn to the idea and submitted a few stories. I don’t remember if they got published.
The limitation concept stuck with me, and I started 101 Words in December 2005. In those early days, I only posted my own stories and a few from friends. I didn’t open it up to the public until 2007.
In November 2014, I decided to go all in and turn 101 Words into something special.
My vision for 101 Words is a comprehensive ecosystem and community that can support writers, editors, and readers. This vision is a work in progress, and I hope you stick around to watch it grow.
— Shannon”
Thank you for stopping by.
AnnMarie:)
just stepped up the little stairs to reach his steering wheel. This vehicle is not required for his line of work. My studio, a converted porch, faces his yellow house, his big truck. My home, rising during the Great Depression, has withstood many assaults over time. Her old bones don’t deserve to be rattled.
The sky is bright, the birds are singing, and every morning the man across the street shatters this peaceful illusion. His truck’s reverb frazzles the neighborhood, echoes through my chest. Maybe the man across the street needs the sleepy world agitated at 5:45 AM, maybe tremors make his shadow grow.
If someday he should acknowledge the next phase of life, I pray he doesn’t buy a bigger truck. I don’t want to become another person in this burning world who adds more noise to the hate. I dislike the man across the street. I do not hate him. I will admit, however, to hating his fucking truck.
I painted this a few months ago. Reference taken from a photo of Chris Lee as Dracula. Thought this image was somewhat fitting for this piece:)
I hope you’re all keeping cool.
am:)
My dear friend, DS Levy, has added another bright star to her constellation of writing-
Her brilliant piece, “Wild”, is a 2024 must read
“You know,” Bets says, parking a wad of Bazooka in her cheek. “The road goes both ways.”
— DS Levy
https://mudseasonreview.com/2023/12/fiction-issue-71/
I’m a week late posting this piece in the gem of a journal that is Microfiction Monday Magazine. The micro form transforms one’s writing heart into a fluid and raw state. For me, writing micros frees my mind from the baggage it so often carries while trying to impress. I hope you stop by Microfiction Monday. And while you’re there, check out all the marvelous micros; Edition 116 boasts beautiful pieces by David Hensen and G.J. Williams!
(image or highlighted text will transport you to Microfiction Monday Magazine)
anntogether 