Thursday, April 04, 2013


If you call this kind of thing an “altered book”
and if you can work in the word “upcycling”—
I mean, if you can do that with a straight face—
you could probably teach this as a workshop,
some kind of new age spirituality.

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“Have a shovel full of fun yourself by taking a tool in hand with our sand sculpture workshops, sand drawing workshops and team building activities; we shouldn't be the only ones who get to have all the fun!”

Jamie Wardley
Sand and Ice Sculptures, UK

She looked at me, and then asked, “What are you doing?”

I looked up and tried to make an innocent face.
“I’m plotting,” I said, trying to keep my eyes wide.

She giggled. “I get it,” she said, shaking her head.
Plotting is what writers do. And supervillains.
So I’m supposed to think you’re writing a story
but then because you’re making that weird-looking face
I’m supposed to think you’re hatching some evil scheme.”

“Isn’t all of this much more romantic,” I asked,
“when it’s a mystery? Am I writing something,
or am I designing a robot made of toys
that will turn anyone or anything I choose
into sand the wind can wear down and blow away?”

“‘All of this’?” she asked. “You mean you and a clipboard?”
She laughed, then said, “It’s hard to believe they don’t put
alcohol in that Red Bull you’re always drinking.”

I let my eyes narrow. “I’m going to include
you in what I’m plotting right now,” I said to her.

“You do that,” she said, still laughing. And then she left.

I returned to my plotting. It was about her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



Me As A Mad Scientist In Sand

Mindstorms And Music And One Smart Brick

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