As part of my 2010 year word
'Manifest' efforts,
I'll be launching a regular post,
beginning this Wednesday, called:
Wednesday Write-Off.
The idea is to lure more creative writing out of myself,
and if any of you want to participate,
play,
practice
or
otherwise join in,
[publicly or privately],
well,
Write On.
(hee)
My end of this will be to
post a prompt & a format suggestion,
along with my own writing in response to both of those.
This week, I'm giving myself
(& you)
a heads up, because
last night I had a crazy dream
which gave me an even crazier prompt idea ...
I dreamed of:
the murders in Ciudad Juarez,
and coffee grounds.
Yea, I know: ?????
So my prompt for this week's introductory
Wednesday Write-Off
is to:
write for 15 minutes about those two topics,
somehow mingling them,
making them play off each other --
a thoughtflow,
'hot penning,'
a 'writing practice' (as Ms. Natalie Goldberg calls it),
in 5 minute increments,
or 10 and 5,
or a straight 15.
Poetry
or prose
or puzzlement,
however you want to express it!
And on Wednesday,
if you want to share,
leave a comment with a link
to your piece,
and
I'll come take a gander!
I would love that!
love your collages, so advanced compared to my little book. As for your dreams I just don't remember like you do, look forward to your Wednesdays writing. Great job my friend.
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ReplyDeleteloved the idea so much got right to it. Here is mine
ReplyDeleteHey Mamacita...
ReplyDeleteI had the strangest dreams while down with the flu. I even woke up crying once, and asked Bergman if my younger cousin had died because my dream had been so lucid...
But, the coffee ground, yes, that one is different.
Hope you are having a lovely Monday!!!!!!!
My Dear Fu Fu,
ReplyDeleteThis is my first day back from the grand tour, and this was the day for me to come and sign on. Stop and read every last word. And, let my tired eyes brim with tears because I am so very, very, very glad that you've come back. I love you. Happy, boisterous, joyful year ahead.
Part One
ReplyDeleteAfter brewing coffee, coffee grounds are often tossed into the trash bin.
After getting killed, dead people are often tossed into the tomb.
In each case, the person who commits the act (the coffee brewer or the killer) is doing that for a reason. Could be good or could be bad. Could be personal or could be impersonal.
In each case, somebody will benefit! Here is how I did benefit the last time I encountered both elements.
I was in Ciudad Juarez trying to re-enter US after being deported three days before. Waiting for my “ride” to pick me up, I was enjoying the sunny weather on the back porch of my host. His name was Pablo, so typical. Pablo was trying to sell me one of his daughters: a 16 year old, scared as hell, nice looking senorita, named Maria. Again, so typical! Pablo was no dummy and he knew I was going to make it back in US and he wanted some money from me and in exchange Maria was going to be my own personal woman in US. He told me that I could even sell her in US for double the money somewhere in Nevada.
I let Pablo climb down from his initial financial “offer” while I started sipping from the cup of the black coffee, Turkish style made for me. Maria knew how to make a nice, tasty, delicious Turkish coffee. She first boiled the water, and then added some sugar, let the water boil again and then add the fine grounded coffee. After boiling the coffee again for exactly 30 seconds, she let it stand on the side for exactly five minutes, and then she poured it into the cup. She carefully placed the cup on a little plate and served it to me. She smiled back to me when I thanked her for such an awesome job! I could not help it and asked her:
“Do you know the secrets of coffee foretelling too?”
She smiled and her gesture made me understand I should finish drinking my coffee.
I looked at Pablo and I asked him:
“If I give you one thousand dollars cash in this moment, would you please be so kind and leave me alone with your daughter for a little while?”
“Yes!” he answered greedily, “But no more than one hour!”
He took the money and seconds later he was gone. As soon as slammed the door behind him, Maria came to me and sat into my lap. I felt very nervous. She looked into my coffee cup, raised the cup to my mouth and urged me to finish it quick. I did what she asked me. She quickly took the cup from me and while she was holding the coffee plate with her left hand, she was stirring the coffee grounds and the little leftover coffee inside the cup, simply by agitating the cup in circular motions. Then she put the plate upside down on top of the cup, secured both the cup and the plate with both hands, and turned the entire thing such that the cup was upside down, but the coffee grounds were wasting in the plate. After a little while she took the cup and put it, still upside down, on top of a napkin, on the table.
She came to me, took my hands and pulled me on the little bench near the fireplace. She had me sit down, while she knelt down in front of me.
“Oh, no” I said. “I don’t want you to…”
Her right hand middle finger touched my lips, while she softly hushed me. I was really nervous. She’s only 16, damn it!
M.H.
Part Two
ReplyDeleteMaria put her little hands on my eyes, making me close them. She whispered to me to keep them closed… She took my hands into her and… and nothing. Absolutely nothing was happening. I could feel that she was starring straight into my face, so I did not dare to open my eyes. My pulse was faster than normal, way faster… Then, a few minutes later I could hear her mumbling unintelligible words. Under the magic of the moment, I did not move a muscle. A few minutes after she started talking:
“Mister Coffee, what I am about to tell you is not coming from me, but I did have a dream last night that you were going to come in this house and offer my father $1000 just that he would leave us alone so I can <>.”
I opened my eyes and saw her talking to me perfectly relaxed. She continued:
“What will come out of that coffee cup will be know just by us. After, the cup will be washed and broken into pieces.”
She did read to me what the cup said…
The second day, late in the evening I was already in La Habana, Cuba. The little jet I rented with the pilot dropped Maria in Veracruz, and then me in the La Habana. While entering the luxurious room in the hotel I checked in, I turned the TV on and sat down on the bed, sipping from my freshly bought coffee cup. The news was simply stunning: All the people from Mexico trying to force crossing the border to El Paso got either arrested or shot to death on the spot. At the same time, in Juarez a war between the gangs erupted and made the city a battlefield. Not only gangs, but also people living there, or just passing there were dead. I could see briefly that one of the bodies was Pablo’s. Pablo was gone. Now all what Maria told me made sense.
The ground coffee saved me from being one of the victims of the murders in Ciudad Juarez. Maria used me as a token to save herself too. She later told me she wanted to come with me, but there was something in the ground coffee that would forbid her to follow me. She was safe in Veracruz. I was safe in La Habana and was going to be even safer in Miami in three days… sipping the same TURKISH COFFEE… waiting for somebody to “read my coffee”… again.
M.H.
MH -- whether dream, fiction, or fact, I am astonished by your story and so so glad you shared it!!! Thank you.
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