Earthblog

Self Proclaimed Un-Romantics
left their corporate desks
for the plantations of Ecuador
to learn romance

from embroidered palms
of the plantations' villagers
and to reignite lust
in their plastic wives

instead they found the villagers
hands to rough
to touch smooth skin
between legs, too calloused
to feel infants' cheeks.

so the un-romantics stole
carnations, roses, baby's breath
But without
crops, pesticides, thorns

calluses peeled and healed
children picked wild flowers
and couples made love
in overgrown pastures

This poem was first published in Matter 10: Village.

The Old Town Writing Group

That’s the myth. In reality, most writers need people. In reality, most writers go soft with no deadline, no one waiting on the other edge of the computer screen. Some unchecked stories get loose and meandering, some unchecked egos balloon exponentially, only to deflate rapidly with the obnoxious farting sound of self-pity. Most writers need a balance, a grounding mechanism, a central command to report to.

Most writing is enhanced by nuts-and-bolts concepts: workshopping, feedback, and revisions. While these craft-centric ideas may not sound sexy, the finished product is. Smart, cogent writing peer-reviewed and trimmed of unnecessary fat? Sexy. Smart, cogent writing about sex peer-reviewed and trimmed of unnecessary fat? Extra-super-sexy. This is the M.O. behind “Savage Night,” a Valentines Day reading put on by The Old Town Writing Group, a six-woman band of established Fort Collins authors who aim to share their work and the benefits of self-starting a writing collective.

“The past is never dead.  It’s not even past”
-William Faulkner

Surrounded by a mass of spectators—or perhaps only one—reality could not be understood without its theatrical nature. To paraphrase Shakespeare, what we call life seems to be a movie that runs perpetually, and we actors and actresses memorize the plot, change its regularity, sometimes without knowledge of the story’s real meaning. Sometimes we have arguments about our roles. Sometimes we have no chance to go back and correct our mistakes. Our movie is full of tragedy and comedy—“that foolish tale told by an idiot, full of sound of fury,” as Macbeth said.

Pedor Almodovar’s latest film, Broken Embraces (Los Abrazos Rotos), follows this theatrical nature but develops and stretches its boundaries.  In the beginning, we curiously see a blind director operating under a pseudonym, and, as the story unfolds, so do the reasons behind the name switch. Or so it seems. The beginning is emblematic and even trickery, but Almovodar manages the cliché and develops, by a mastery use of retrospective, its causes and consequences. He suggests that, if in reality the past is imposible to change, perhaps there is a way to fix it or change our impression of it. The answer lies within our imagination and, in this case, the will to forgive. He suggests that if our past holds tragedy, we have the power to change it for ourselves. Rather than viewing it as regret, a broken embrace, the film urges us to see it as a last kiss—an understanding and forgivable last kiss.

Join the Old Town Writing Group on the lustiest night of the year for a reading filled with savage desires, irregular heartbeats, and uncooperative body parts.

Kimberly Fields, Leslie Patterson, Molly Reid, Sarah Ryan, Laura Resau and Carrie Visintainer will read their stories and essays.

Lovers, friends, and misanthropes are all welcome.

Sunday, February 14th, 7pm

The Bean Cycle/ Matter Bookstore
144 N. College Ave.
Fort Collins, CO 80524
970.472.4284