Weekly Wrap Up

Seven things that moved me, grooved me, or improved me.

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ONE: Spoon’s new album Hot Thoughts is SO GOOD! Get on it.  🎧

Tidal

Spotify

TWO: Cue the “I want to be the T-Rex” arguments. Boot, wheelbarrow, thimble ousted from Monopoly board game. 🎲

THREE: As a writer and copy editor, I LOVE the outcome of this legal case. ✍🏻

FOUR: Insanely talented musician and Cleveland native Nicholas Megalis brings us David Bowie + Pi in this mesmerizing mashup. 👨🏻‍🎤

FIVE: Kudos to Cleveland-based company Sherwin-Williams and their AoR McKinney for the latest installment in their “Color Chips” campaign. It’s visually stunning. 👀

SIX: According to WalletHub’s 2017 Happiest Places to Live,  Cleveland ranks 149/150, just above Detroit. Phffft. I demand a recount. 🙃

SEVEN: “Finally, a noble use of an iffy strategy.” Yep. This is clickbait I can get behind. 📚

Until next time, be kind to yourself. And each other.
xo,
mG

Note: All opinions expressed here are my own. I have not received any compensation for writing this post.

Weekly Wrap-Up

It’s been awhile, but I’M BACK! Kicking things off again with my Weekly Wrap-Up.

Seven things that moved me, grooved me, or improved me. 

ONE: This? True love. You May Want to Marry My Husband is an amazing piece of writing by the incredibly courageous Amy Krouse Rosenthal.

TWO: I see an evil face in this burning tree. And while it’s giving me the creeps, I can’t look away.

THREE: Fascinating. Turkeys Circling a Dead Cat Are Probably Weary, Not Working Dark Magic.

FOUR: Squee! Hall & Oates + Tears For Fears Plot Joint North American Tour. I am SO THERE!

FIVE: Enough said. img_5218
 

SIX: Schitt’s Creek: The best comedy on Pop TV and Netflix. Do yourself a solid and watch it. Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara, Dan Levy, and Chris Elliott. Need I say more?

SEVEN: “Everything has a purpose.” Amen, Francisco Lindor. Indians’ Lindor inspired by sister’s cancer battle.

Until next time, be kind to yourself. And each other.
xo,
mG

Note: All opinions expressed here are my own. I have not received any compensation for writing this post.

the metamorphosis

“all humans are subject to
decay,
and when fate summons, monarchs
must obey.”
John Dryden, Mac Flecknoe, (1682) 11.1

born several months early
and under the wrong sign,
capricorn’s curse
encased you in glass,
a diamond
in your unwed mother’s dowry.
jaundiced skin
pulsated the morse
of a monarch’s wings
on a killing jar at sunset.
the glowing orb dimmed
and all but the swish
of rayon tights
was silenced.
discontented orderlies took gondola rides
down hallways they never intended to travel.
the institution was alive
with navigations across carelessly waxed terrazzo,
while an unattended lily
wilted
in its Waterford vase.

chessie

on the balcony outside my bedroom window
stands a lonely stranger.
the heels of italian shoes
click endlessly
as he paces the redwood planks.
he tips his fedora
in the direction of train’s distant hum
for he knows the pain
wrought by one locomotive’s whistle.
a mother’s frantic prayer
clothespins released from a panicking grip
splintered on hardwood
exciting the dogs
to the possibility of supper.
stunned amidst the chaos
he just couldn’t react.
the expressionless boy
a mere reflection of the stoic faces
on copper coins.
yes
it is he
who haunts my sleep
singing the songs
of famished beasts
and moonlit copper coins
tossed hastily to trains.

Until next time, be kind to yourself. And each other.

xo,

mG

the vector

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discard the theory
about the window screen you’ve been meaning to repair,
it came in through the front door.
in fact,
you let it in yourself.
remember calling the children in
for a bedtime story?
compassion misinterpreted as invitation
to anything within earshot;
it happens all the time.
tonight
it occurs in a four-bedroom house.
of course,
it manages to tackle the steps,
gently edge under the seam
of your bedroom door,
hover over the defenseless flesh
of your sleeping body.
a violin begins to play
and slumbering hands punch at the dark
hoping to silence the unwanted serenade,
but it seems that your irritation
is only the blood that it draws
from your veins
when it has the nerve

to touch you.

photo: mary e gilmore, may 2013. I’m a Crane fly. And I don’t bite.

Until next time, be kind to yourself. And each other.

xo,

mG