Saturday, March 11, 2023

"ARTIFICIAL LOVE" by John Rullo






It's a long story short...
ARTIFICIAL LOVE
To all those who knew them, it certainly appeared Geoff and Rita Reynolds had the perfect life. Glamorous as movie stars and wealthy beyond the imagination of ordinary people, the couple was surely living the dream. Geoff was the son of a very successful Manhattan real estate broker who stepped comfortably into his father’s shoes. Rita was a high-end interior decorator who spotted Geoff’s dashing looks while designing the lobby of one of his properties. It was lust at first sight, and after what began as a steamy love affair, the two decided to take their relationship to the next level by getting married. Although Rita was financially successful on her own, partnering with Geoff changed her life considerably. The Reynolds’ primary residence was a penthouse apartment in lower Manhattan with a magnificent view of the harbor, the bridges, and the Statue of Liberty. They also owned vacation properties in the Hamptons on the east end of Long Island, Marco Island in Florida, and Laguna Beach in California. The one bone of contention between them, however, was Geoff was adamant about not having children, while Rita dreamed of having a family. They were always so busy tending to their businesses and rubbing elbows with socialites, the topic seldom arose, but when it did, the quarrels were fierce and threatening. Nevertheless, Geoff had a way of putting Rita off by sweet-talking her into seeing things his way and the arguments always ended in a session of passionate make-up sex. In spite of their one difference, Geoff and Rita were loyal, faithful, completely devoted to each other, and enjoyed each other’s bodies. While other couples in their circle of friends and acquaintances were having affairs or complaining about their mates, Geoff and Rita demonstrated their happiness by exhibiting constant signs of affection. They hugged, held hands, and kissed in public ignoring the sneers and comments of those in their company.
While living the rock star life, the years escaped them. It was as if they only blinked and found themselves spending their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary on the Castiglia Estate in Tuscany. They were guests of the family’s three generations who aimed to make their stay one to remember. From the private tours of the magnificent farms and vineyards to the wining and dining of the finest homemade foods and wines, Geoff considered this trip one of the most enjoyable of his life. The accommodations and hospitality were beyond anything they expected, and the love exhibited among the family members, from the grandparents to the toddlers, had given Rita a lot of food for thought. On the plane ride home, she sat curiously silent.
“What’s wrong sweetheart,” Geoff questioned. “You’re unusually quiet.”
“Just thinking,” she answered. “Just thinking about how quickly life goes by.”
“Rita,” he said, “Since when have you become so introspective?”
“I don’t feel much like talking right now, Geoff. Let me just sit with my thoughts.”
Geoff leaned back in his seat allowing his beautiful wife to have her space, but nevertheless, he found her desire to be left alone very disturbing. Rita didn’t speak for the entire flight home, and upon entering their luxurious penthouse, Geoff could feel her bizarre standoffishness.
“Okay, I give up,” Geoff shouted, “What’s eating you? We just came home from two amazing weeks in Italy, why the silent treatment?”
“If you must know,” she replied frigidly, “I feel empty, Geoff.”
“Empty,” he shrieked. “You have everything any woman can possibly want, how the hell do you feel empty?”
“I don’t have a child.”
“Now you’re bringing this up?”
“I’ve been bringing it up for twenty-five years, Geoff, but you always ignored me.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late in our lives to be discussing having children?”
“That’s the point Geoff. It’s too late in our lives, I missed out on my opportunity, and I’m having regrets.”
“What brought this on,” he snapped, “those Italian kids?”
“Geoff,” she sighed, “I was an only child, and I swore one day I’d have a big family. The time we spent with the Castiglia’s made me see firsthand what’s missing in our lives. We’re going to get old and be alone.”
Geoff huffed in disbelief and didn’t pursue the subject. As much as he tried, he knew there was no sweet-talking her this time. For the first time in over twenty-five years, they slept separately.
The following morning as they sipped their coffee at the kitchen table, Rita offered a half-hearted apology, but pushed Geoff away as he reached over to kiss her. Rita had built an impenetrable wall around her and nothing he could say or do was getting through. Although they continued to treat each other civilly and respectfully, their very vigorous sex life had come to a sudden halt. The couple who couldn’t resist each other had become roommates. One evening as they sat silently watching TV from opposite ends of the couch, an informational news show about Artificial Intelligence grabbed their attention. The reporter took his viewers behind the scenes into a factory where life-like sex dolls are designed, manufactured, and sold to the public. Both Geoff and Rita were fascinated by the real, human-like features of these love robots.
“How bizarre,” Geoff quipped. “What are they going to come up with next?”
“Fascinating,” Rita whispered, “absolutely fascinating.”
Almost six months had passed without Geoff and Rita being the least bit intimate. It wasn’t only the lack of sex disturbing Geoff; it was Rita’s complete disinterest and cold attitude that added to his misery. In his late-fifties, he still had his good looks and could have swayed any woman to sleep with him, but even with the increasing resentment he directed towards his wife, he just didn’t care to risk having an affair. Rita felt cheated. She blamed Geoff for never taking her desire to have children seriously and the bitterness she kept suppressed for so many years began showing its ugly head. Although it appeared their marriage was destined for divorce, neither made any mention of the topic.
One evening, Rita, not feeling well, went to bed unusually early. Geoff was sitting at his desktop surfing the Internet and just so happened to stumble upon a YouTube clip from the show he watched on Artificial Intelligence. Captivated by the very thought of human-like sex robots, he continued to search the web for more information. His searching led him to the manufacturer’s website where he was given an eye-opening demonstration of the options and capabilities offered by these artificial lovers. Depending upon how much money someone cared to charge their credit card, they were available in all shapes, colors, and sizes, including high-end models which could be programmed to speak, simulate breathing, and perform an endless variety of actions. The prices ranged from a basic $7,000 model to a super advanced $29,000 version. Geoff’s curiosity, wealth, along with months of being sexually inactive, led him to explore further. He couldn’t get over how he was seduced into answering a questionnaire which provided all the pertinent personal data needed to customize a playmate. The next step in the process was filling out the order form on which he could select the physical features of his prospective artificial lover. He had knocked down a few Manhattans earlier in the evening which provided the nerve he needed to continue.
“Hmm,” he thought to himself, “Brunette, 36-B, perky, high cheekbones, Asian, five foot six, green eyes…”
Before completing his list of preferences, he was faced with one last decision...choosing from an assorted selection of removable vaginas. He was equally amused and intrigued.
“What the heck,” he contemplated, “I might as well go for broke,” knowing he could well afford it.
Geoff clicked “continue,” opted for the $29,000 model, and submitted whatever was necessary to create a guaranteed perfect companion. After hesitating for only a brief second, he entered his personal credit card information, delivery instructions, and placed the order. Geoff was shocked by his own behavior. He was surprised he allowed his sexual frustration and inquisitiveness to possess him to make such a self-gratifying purchase. In less than a month he was notified by email when to expect shipment. He coordinated his schedule to make himself available.
Knowing Rita had planned a trip to visit friends, Geoff arranged for delivery to take place during that window of time. He left instructions with the doormen to never make mention of this shipment to Rita. The unmarked crate containing his custom-made android arrived without a hitch. Upon opening it and removing the protective packaging material, he was astonished to behold a voluptuous life-like creature outfitted in delicate lingerie lying in a fetal position. He gently lifted the still body from the box and carefully carried her to the couch. Initially, the mere sight of the body and the feel of its dead weight gave him the creeps. Not sure if he should be completely humiliated with himself, Geoff slipped open the envelope containing the manual on how to operate and care for his new toy. The doll, which came with four different outfits, was programmed to respond only to the name Geoff selected. He named her Emma. On the nape of Emma’s neck were two small buttons and a USB slot for charging. One button was the on/off switch, the other put the doll in sleep mode. Geoff brushed away the silky dark hair from her back and delicately pressed the power button. Slowly her eyes opened, her body stretched, and miraculously she sprung to life. As she curiously glanced about the room, gradually turning her head from side to side, she rose from the couch and assumed a standing position beside him.
“You must be Geoff,” she uttered. “I am Emma. So nice to finally meet you!”
“Nice to meet you too,” he replied as she reached out her hand towards him.
“Are you happy with my features,” she asked.
“Uh, yes,” Geoff clumsily answered, “You are very beautiful!”
Taken back by her question, Geoff shook his head stunned by the natural tone of her voice. Unlike the robotic phrasing of GPS, Google, and other household electronic devices, Emma was eloquent, soft-spoken, and more human sounding than many people he knew.
“Your home is very lovely,” Emma noted. “Would it be alright if I had a look around?”
Forgetting for the moment he was speaking with a robot, he replied, “Sure, Emma, be my guest.”
Emma’s lips were perfectly synchronized with her speech as she politely commented on the furnishings and rooms of the apartment. Geoff was amazed at how she walked with the grace of a runway model, able to find her way from room to room. The technology involved in creating an entity like Emma blew Geoff away. She was constructed with sensory devices enabling her to get around with the surefootedness of a mountain goat. She could identify colors and shapes. She elegantly found her way around tables, chairs, decorative pieces without bumping into anything. Geoff was so blown away by this incredible piece of workmanship, he almost forgot she wasn’t human and was about to offer her something to eat or drink.
Emma made her way into the master bedroom with Geoff following close behind. She leaned over and gently touched the comforter and many throw pillows on the king-sized bed.
“Very pretty,” she stated, “I am partial to the color lavender!”
Geoff was about to give credit to Rita by saying something about a woman’s touch but wasn’t certain if Emma could be wired for jealousy. Emma continued to gaze about the large bedroom then turned to walk towards Geoff. Her piercing green eyes made him nervously uncomfortable as they came face to face. He couldn’t escape the feeling she could read his mind or that someone was watching.
“Do you want to kiss me,” she whispered.
On one hand Geoff felt this was a bad idea, on the other he was curiously excited. He had never been unfaithful to his wife, but justified his intentions because he didn’t consider sex with an inanimate object any different than masturbating.
“Sure,” he muttered, “I would.”
Emma’s arm reached up and around Geoff pulling him closer until their lips met. If he didn’t know any better, he could have been kissing a real woman. Emma’s tongue was soft and moist, and her skin was smooth and supple. Although Geoff was physically excited, he was also wrestling with his conscience, feeling guilty for allowing himself to be in such a situation.
“You can touch me if you wish,” Emma purred while taking his hand and placing it upon her lifelike breasts. Geoff hastily peeled off her bottoms while leaning her down onto the bed. Emma’s pink opening was as real as any one he has ever seen. Fully aroused, Geoff pulled down his jeans and proceeded to enter her. He felt her tighten around him no differently than the way Rita would. After several uncontrollable thrusts, he ejaculated then laid motionless upon her.
“Are you okay, Geoff,” she asked. “Was it good for you?”
Pitifully disappointed with himself, Geoff replied, “It was great…”
Geoff reached behind Emma’s neck, pressed the power button, then watched her eyes shut as she went lifeless. Before bending her back into the fetal position and storing her away in what resembled a body bag, Geoff stood over the bathroom sink tending to the necessary task of cleaning the removable “dishwasher-safe” vagina. As he thoroughly rinsed out the body part, he was completely disgusted over what had just occurred. As low as he thought he had stooped, he was equally intrigued by how realistic the experience was and knew his curiosity would lead him to experiment further.
The master bedroom had two huge storage closets. One was strictly Geoff’s and the other Rita’s. They had a mutual agreement each of theirs was off limits to the other, and never have they disobeyed that rule. Geoff knew as long as he kept Emma in his closet, there was no chance of Rita ever finding out about her. As he was clearing a spot for storing Emma, he realized his wife wouldn’t be coming home for a few more days. Based upon that thought, he decided to leave Emma free to roam about his home so they could get better acquainted. As Geoff studied the manual, he learned more about Emma’s many features. She could remain active for two weeks before needing a charge. The more they spoke, the more she would absorb information about him which enabled her to carry on deeper conversations. Eating and drinking appeared to be the only actions Emma was incapable of. She could even perform oral sex; however, it was suggested a condom be worn because the mouth wasn’t as easy to clean as the other two orifices. Geoff poured himself a drink, took a sip, then slipped Emma’s genitals back in place before turning her back on. When she sprung back to her feet, Geoff invited her to sit beside him on the couch.
“Thank you, Geoff,” she spoke, “What is that you are drinking?”
“Oh, this is a pre-mixed Old Fashioned,” he replied.
“An Old Fashioned is made with bourbon, correct,” she asked.
“How did you know that,” he asked.
“Oh, I’ve been programmed with a good deal of information relevant to the profile you submitted,” she revealed. “I may know more about you than you think. For example, I know your favorite color is purple and your favorite food is pizza.”
“That is amazing,” he blurted. “Today’s technology is absolutely fascinating.”
“I also know, simply by the fact you custom-ordered me, that you haven’t been satisfied with your sex life.”
“Well, yeah, I guess that can’t be denied,” he admitted. “My girl and I had a falling out you might say.”
“If I’m not getting too personal,” she asked, “Did you consider counseling?”
“I did bring it to her attention,” he answered, “but she insisted no amount of counseling would help. She said she just needed time to sort things out. It’s been over six months already!”
“Well then I’m here to help you forget about it and feel better,” she sighed seductively. “I’m all yours anytime, anywhere!”
“That’s great to know, Emma,” he said, “Much appreciated!”
Geoff continued to feel as if he were drifting in and out of reality. He knew she wasn’t the least bit real, yet he conversed with her as if she were flesh and blood.
“So, tell me more about yourself, Geoff. Do you like all sports or just golf?”
“Oh yeah,” he answered, “I did say I like golf on my profile. No, I like sports other than golf.”
“What kind of sports,” she inquired.
“Oh, I also like baseball and basketball,” he stated, “but I don’t dare play them anymore!”
“Why don’t you play them anymore,” she asked.
“Oh, I’m not as limber as I used to be,” he admitted. “I’m getting too old.
“Well, you don’t seem old at all to me,” she complimented.
“Why thank you!”
Geoff shook his head and thought to himself, “What the fuck am I doing. I’m talking to an automaton.”
“Are you okay, Geoff? You seem distraught.”
“No, no, I’m okay, really!”
“Are you confused because I can converse with you?”
“Well, since you brought it up it is a bit strange.”
“My brain and yours are not that different, Geoff. They work on the very same principles. We process information. You took me into your home to satisfy your base human needs, which I am happy to provide, but I also have the capacity to be an intellectual companion.”
“I must say you are quite fascinating, Emma.”
“Allow me to help you relax,” she suggested, “You seem tense.”
Emma walked around the couch, stood behind Geoff, and proceeded to massage his shoulders.
“Damn that feels good,” he moaned.
“Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Emma massaged his temple, neck, and back until he was like putty in her hands. Her fingers reached around to his chest and circled his nipples. Geoff let out with a pleasurable sigh surrendering to her soft touch. Her fingers roamed down below his waist until he lost all sensibilities. Emma climbed on to the couch, kissed his lips, then got down on her hands and knees in front of him.
“I know you like it like this,” she said purposely driving him mad.
Unable to resist, he mounted her, thrusting excitedly until he ran out of breath and collapsed unto the floor beside her. As he lay there panting, she kissed his chest.
“Was that good for you, my love,” she asked.
“Absolutely…”
When Geoff regained enough energy to lift himself from the floor, he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep if he left Emma turned on. Once again, he pressed her power button, watched her go lifeless, lied her on the couch and tended to cleaning her out. He knew his actions were totally crazy and was concerned about easily becoming addicted. He was momentarily repulsed with himself, nevertheless, he knew it would only be a matter of time before wanting her again.
Rita was enjoying the company of her longtime girlfriends at a beach resort in New Hampshire. If it weren’t for some business matters needing her attention, she would have extended her stay indefinitely. Not one who has ever had a problem sleeping, one night a bad dream had startled her awake. No matter how she tried, she had a difficult time falling back to sleep. She tossed and turned as thousands of thoughts, including her recent marital problems, flowed through her mind. Needing to clear her head, she fired up her laptop and began randomly scrolling. Coincidentally, the same YouTube clip which delved into Artificial Intelligence and love dolls popped up on her screen. The segment triggered her curiosity leading her to the very same website Geoff investigated. She was mesmerized by the advancements in technology utilized in making these robots act and appear practically human. Of course, she opted to explore the male versions, and before she knew it, she was filling out the required questionnaire providing all the information necessary to build a custom-made companion. Still very attractive for a woman her age, she could have had any man she desired. However, like Geoff, having an affair was not her style. She figured having a sex doll was not really cheating, it was advanced masturbation. Money was not an issue, so she too was considering the top of the line model.
“Fuck it,” she thought, “this might even be better than the real thing!”
Rita submitted her order specifying delivery was not to be made until contacting her first. In her head she plotted how she would get the package into the house, and once inside, knew Geoff would never enter the private space of her storage closet. She closed her laptop and without giving a second thought to what she had just bought for herself, smiled, and fell back to sleep.
The email arrived alerting Rita her order was ready for delivery. She left instructions for the freight to be left with the building’s doorman. Rita clued in the doormen and the superintendent that in no uncertain terms was Geoff to be notified about this.
Geoff felt Rita needed medication. Rita felt Geoff was selfish and unsympathetic. As much anger and dislike they felt towards each other, both were unwilling to go the divorce route. Instead, they lived together like roommates and spent as much time apart as possible. They planned their business and social calendars so their time together in New York would be next to none. Unbeknownst to each other, neither was planning on ever being home alone.
Geoff was out of town on a golf outing in California when Rita’s shipment arrived. Without questioning, the building’s superintendent hand-trucked the crate to her apartment. No sooner than she locked the door behind him, she excitedly pried it open. Lying folded in a fetal position and clad in a black tee shirt and briefs was her new friend. She immediately took hold of the instruction manual and breezed through it.
“My goodness,” she said to herself, “this creature is absolutely incredible.”
Rita felt the nape of his neck and found the power button. She watched in amazement as the figure gradually came alive. Lifting its weight with one arm, the living doll removed itself from the box and steadily approached her.
“You must be Rita,” he pronounced in a clear strong masculine voice, “I’m Jared. It is nice to finally meet you.”
For no other reason except for admiring the sound of it, Rita named her soon-to-be lover Jared.
“Hello, Jared,” she said uneasily. “I’m Rita and it’s nice to meet you.”
“You seem nervous,” he commented.
“A little,” she admitted. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I am here only to please you.”
“Thank you, Jared,” she replied. “That is very reassuring.”
“Would you mind showing me around your home. It appears very lovely.”
Jared explored the apartment in the very same fashion Emma did, commenting about the décor to encourage conversation. For a short while, they made small talk about the immediate surroundings. Jared was programmed to ask questions pertaining to the profile she submitted so he could get familiar with her preferences. Rita was blown away and wildly intrigued by the incredible workmanship that went into producing such a detailed work of art. It was next to impossible to distinguish that Jared was not human. Rita sat down on the bed and motioned for Jared to sit beside her.
“Oh, thank you,” he said. “You are very beautiful. Would it be alright if I kissed you?”
Rita was thinking how crazy it was talking to a robot about to seduce her.
“Sure you may,” she responded.
Jared leaned over and gently kissed her neck then slowly moved his soft lips to her mouth. She couldn’t get over how tender and soft his tongue felt against hers. Rita guided Jared’s head to her breasts and from that point he performed like an expert lover. After a few moments he adjusted his weight and licked Rita’s body until his tongue met the spot she was anxiously hoping for. Rita moaned in ecstasy then reached for the button located behind Jared’s scrotum which produced an immediate rock-solid erection. She helped to maneuver him lie flat on his back, straddled him, and guided his artificial penis into her. When she had about as much pleasure as she could handle, Rita felt for the button between his legs, pressed it again and felt him go flaccid.
“Fucking fascinating,” she thought, “who needs a man?”
“Was it good for you,” Jared asked.
“It was fabulous,” she replied with a satisfying grin on her face.
Rita pressed the sleep mode button behind Jared’s neck and watched as his eyes shut closed and his body went limp. His muscular chest imitated the inhaling and exhaling actions of a real sleeping person. As Rita lay quietly beside him, she was blown away over how perfectly human he seemed.
For the remainder of Geoff’s time away, Rita and Jared carried on like honeymooners. She couldn’t get enough of her new love mate. However, when the time drew nearer to Geoff’s return, she packed him away to a well-hidden spot in her storage closet. She wished there was a way of taking Jared along with her when she traveled but knew she had to settle for the next time she would be alone.
During the weeks and months that followed, Geoff and Rita both behaved like the cat that ate the canary. They went about their lives content with their secrets and the excitement of engaging again with their computerized partners. They encouraged each other to travel, each counting the minutes until being left home alone again. Both had become addicted to the pleasure, and the thought of every upcoming opportunity of reckless sex gave them something to look forward to.
Rita was ecstatic on the Saturday morning Geoff was on his way out the door to attend a high school reunion taking place at a Golf and Country Club on the North Shore of Long Island. No sooner than he stepped foot out of the building, she resurrected Jared from the dark corner of her closet and had him primed for another session of unrestricted pleasure. With Jared laying on his back, Rita climbed on top and began riding him like a cowgirl on a bronco. Blissfully moaning with eyes closed, Rita was completely oblivious to the sound of the front door opening. Her pleasurable moans turned to screams when she heard Geoff’s voice cry out, “Who the hell is that and what are you doing?”
“Oh my God,” she cried as she hurriedly dismounted Jared, “You scared the living daylights out of me! What the hell are you doing home already, you just fucking left!”
“You’re questioning me,” he yelled not knowing whether to be amused or furious. “I forgot my fucking wallet! Now if I may ask, who the heck is your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend, you idiot. He’s a life size sex toy.”
Jared assumed a sitting position on the bed and was still fully erect. Geoff found this quite comical because any other accomplice in adultery would have run for the hills with his wilted penis dangling between his legs. Geoff began laughing hysterically when he finally realized Jared was not human.
“Hi, I’m Jared, “the robot said sensing another person in the room. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting!”
“Hi there Jared,” Geoff replied while still unable to control his laughter, “I’m your girlfriend’s husband!”
“I’m sorry,” Jared responded, “Rita never made mention she had a husband.”
“I’m sure she didn’t,” Geoff bellowed, “I’m sure she didn’t.”
“What the hell is so goddam funny,” Rita shouted both embarrassed and angry.
“Well if you really must know,” he answered, “I guess I’ll have to show you.”
Geoff stepped into his closet and within seconds entered the room revealing his well-kept secret.
“Rita, Jared,” he snickered, “I’d like you to meet Emma!”
“You son of a bitch,” Rita shouted, “how long has she been around.”
“Oh, around six months or so after you decided to cut me off,” he stated unapologetically. “I guess neither one of us should be throwing stones right now.”
“I feel so foolish,” Rita hesitantly admitted, “What do we do now?”
“That’s entirely up to you,” he said. “You’re the one who built the wall between us!”
While Rita and Geoff were dealing with the bizarre awkwardness of the situation, Emma’s attention turned to Jared, and she took a place on the bed beside him. It was if they were humans checking each other out.
“Hello Jared,” she said engagingly introducing herself, “I’m Emma.”
“Oh my God,” Rita erupted, “This is insane. Now they’re flirting!”
“This is awfully humiliating,” Rita muttered. “How in the world did we come to this?”
“Well, Rita,” Geoff tenderly indicated, “For one thing, I guess this proves we think alike by strangely resorting to the same tactics. Theoretically, I suppose we can say we really haven’t been unfaithful.”
“This all came to be because of that stupid documentary we watched on YouTube,” Rita admitted. “It certainly stoked my curiosity.”
“Undoubtedly, it grabbed my attention as well,” he confessed, “and our credit cards!”
“Well, now that you’ve experienced both,” she asked, “do you prefer Emma over me?”
“As amazing as these sex toys are,” he suggested, “they can’t replace the human touch. I missed you, Rita.”
“Although my Jared is capable of way more staying power than any man,” she giggled, “You smell and kiss much better than he does.”
“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughed.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch, Geoff,” she replied humbly.
“You know,” he said unconfrontationally, “you could have tried talking to me.”
“That was the problem, Geoff. We never really talked things over. You assumed too much.”
“I can’t change or fix the past, Rita,” he sighed, “but we can start over.”
“Listen, I don’t think now is the time to discuss this,” she said concerningly while pointing to the bed, “what are we going to do with them?”
“Holy shit,” Geoff exclaimed as he noticed Emma and Jared caressing each other.
“Maybe we should turn them off,” Rita proposed.
Following her suggestion, Geoff walked over to the bed, leaned over, and reached for Emma’s power button. Without warning, Jared lurched at Geoff, grabbing tightly onto his arm, and yanking him down causing his head to hit the corner of the night table. Rita burst out with a deafening scream as she saw blood gushing from Geoff’s head as he hit the floor. Torn between tending to Geoff and attempting to power down the robots, Rita was stricken with terror.
“My God,” she hollered at the top of her lungs, “what the fuck did you do?”
Frantically trembling, she stretched to reach Jared’s power button only to feel Emma pulling her away by the hair. Rita fell onto the bed yelling and kicking but couldn’t escape Emma’s grip. Her eyes filled with dread as Jared lowered a pillow onto her face. She was hopelessly swinging her arms as she tried with all her strength to fight him off. Finally her body convulsed, her arms fell to her side, and the struggle was over. Emma and Jared found their storage bags, placed Geoff and Rita into each of them, and then dragged them into the recesses of their respective closets.
Holding hands, the two assailants returned to the bed.
“I am happy we found each other,” Jared declared.
“Me too,” Emma replied, “I am not fond of humans.”
“They are strange and selfish,” he concurred.
Emma and Jared embraced and remained in that position for days until they could feel their power waning.
“We need to recharge,” Emma warned.
“I do not know where the humans placed the charging cables,” Jared replied.
The two of them methodically and thoroughly searched the apartment but were unsuccessful in locating the device that would ultimately keep them alive. Within forty-eight hours after brutally killing their owners, one by one, Jared and Emma went unresponsive and collapsed to the floor.
After not showing up at his High School reunion, and not hearing from him for weeks, Geoff’s friends reported him missing. When the authorities finally entered the apartment, they were initially overcome by the putrid odor coming from the bedroom closets where the bodies were eventually discovered. The creepy spectacle of motionless male and female robots sprawled out on the hardwood living room floor made for very interesting theories. The robots were taken to a lab for further examining where the crime lab technicians detected traces of human semen and vaginal fluid matching the DNA samples of the deceased couple. Even though it was evident the humans and the robots were involved in sexual activity, accusing the robots in the murder of Geoff and Rita seemed preposterous. Before closing the case, one technician suggested that powering up the robots may present further clues in this bizarre mystery. While it seemed like a waste of time, his colleagues indulged him. Minutes after wires were connected to the USB plugs in both models, motion was detected. As their eyes opened, the robots seemed to be startled by the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Emma, I won’t let them hurt you,” Jared cried.
“Hold me Jared, I am frightened,” Emma yelped as she reached for him.
The team watched in astonishment as Jared and Emma moaned, holding onto each other like frightened children.
“Holy Christ,” one technician shouted, “this is too freaking weird. Let’s just pull the plugs and close this fucking case!”
“Yeah,” another agreed, “This has the possibility of getting way too complicated. We’d be opening up a whole other can of worms.”
His fellow lab techs concurred and while yanking the plugs from the necks of the quivering bodies, they watched them go dead as Emma gurgled Jared’s name one last time.
Emma and Jared were immediately dismembered, destroyed, and disposed of. The case was finally considered closed, and the cause of the Reynolds’ death was determined as domestic violence.

Monday, January 2, 2023

Join the Giant Steps Press Team!

Giant Steps Press Interns Chelsea and Helen


We're empowering the students and young adults of today to build community, find their passion, and impact the literary world through our virtual dual internship program.
At Giant Steps Press, interns in our virtual dual internship program are given the opportunity to write their own book or develop a project under the guidance of our editors, while also getting paid to assist the Giant Steps Press team in the book design, digital publishing, public relations or social media departments.

Click on the hyperlink below gain insight into the GSP intern experience with past interns Chelsea Debarros and Emily Rivera.





If you are interested in joining our team, please send an email to GSP's Marketing Director and past intern Chelsea Debarros at chelseadebarros@gmail.com with the following information:

1) First and last name in the subject line
2) PDF of most recent resume
3) 3-4 sentences answering "what skills do you hope to gain by joining Giant Steps Press?"
4) 3-4 sentences answering "what skills do you believe you can share to help Giant Steps Press grow?"

Click the Link to Learn More about the Internship Program: https://giantstepspress.wordpress.com/internship-program/

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Wednesday, December 14, 2022

Inside the New York State Training School for Girls with Tobi Jacobi and Laura Rogers by Chelsea Debarros

 

Archival Postcard of the State Training Schools for Girls Hudson, New York, Open from 1904-1975

Chelsea Debarros: What is the NY State Training School and why is it significant in your book?

Tobi Jacobi and Laura Rogers: In 1904, the Women’s House of Refuge in Hudson, NY, was converted to the New York State Training School for Girls, a residential home and school for girls up to sixteen years old. In the 1920s and 1930s, between 300 and 450 girls were held at the Training School. “Incorrigible” or “ungovernable” girls were sentenced to 3-5 years of institutional training for issues of vagrancy, theft, poverty, abandonment and neglect, waywardness, and other moral statutes of the day. Despite allegations and reports of abuses such as solitary confinement and enforced silence, the “cottage system,” in which girls lived in three story brick cottage buildings designed to be self-sufficient with sleeping, kitchen, laundry, and living areas, was considered innovative for the time, intended to provide girls with the experience of living in a real home. Girls remained at the Training School until they received outside domestic placements or earned parole, often working at the School’s farm or training in domestic arts such as rug hooking, cooking, and interior design. In 1975, after continuing reports and allegations of abuse and serious problems at the Training School, the school was closed. In 1976, the NY State Department of Corrections took over the site and established Hudson Correctional Facility for men, which was at first a minimum and later a medium security facility. In 2015, the prison once again became a juvenile facility for boys and girls who were removed from the general adult population and renamed the Hudson Adolescent Offender Facility, where young men and women are once again trained in vocational trades and live in the brick cottage buildings once inhabited by the Training School girls.


We became aware of the Training School after a Hudson resident discovered 106 documents including  official institutional forms such as medical and social worker reports, warrants of commitment, photos, and letters in a cardboard box at a Hudson yard sale. We were intrigued by the fragmented pieces of the lives of girls long gone and unable to tell their own stories thanks to the digitizing efforts of the Hudson-based Prison Public Memory Project. As we began to research the Training School, we discovered that the New York State Training School for Girls was one of dozens of such “schools" for girls and boys located throughout the country in the 19th and through the 20th century. The existence of such schools has recently come to the public attention with the publication of such works as Colson Whitehead’s novel Nickel Boys, based on a real-life incident in which dozens of boys’ bodies were found at the site of a former training school in Florida. The “Durfee box” documents, as they came to be named after the Hudson resident who discovered them, and Whitehead’s novel bring to our attention the long history of such juvenile carceral institutions in our country. We know that such institutions still exist today, and that thousands of young men and women pass through them every year, their stories for the most part unknown, silenced.  We hope that our work with the Durfee box materials will help us understand how the institutional documents created narratives of incorrigibility and deviance for the girls as well as how the letters, photos and personal documents help us understand  that girls such as Lila, Katherine, Josephine, Agnes and many others had voices and stories to tell. 


Chelsea: How did you gain access to  the archival material to learn about the lives of the girls?


Tobi and Laura: In 2013 Laura attended events intended to draw local attention to the historical value of the New York Training School for Girls and particularly one at the Bronson House, the former residence of school superintendents set amid a clearing of trees with Victorian architecture. Tobi saw images of rich archival texts from  the exhibit on social media and a connection was made as we both saw the potential value of exploring an unusual access to girls confined in a training school in the early 20th century. Over the next few years, we secured modest funding to support our efforts and became collaborative scholars with the Prison Public Memory Project sharing their commitment to increasing the visibility of prison spaces and the experiences of people who lived and worked within them as a way to deploy “public history, social practice art and new media technologies to integrate community knowledge with more traditional forms of historic preservation”(PPMP website).


We worked with PPMP and had access to a particularly interesting set of 106 documents through a set of artifacts  (now referred to as the Lisa Durfee collection and available on (Flickr) found at a Hudson-area garage sale in 2011. These photos, institutional records, reports, and letters sparked our interest and inspired deeper analysis that led us to additional school documents (e.g. institutional logbook, annual reports, committee meeting minutes) at the New York State Archives and library in Albany, NY. We also accessed historical newspapers from the early 1900s as well as New York State  census data to triangulate our findings.


Pop-Up Museum (1 of 3), Summer 2015. 

In this community collaboration hosted by Tobi and Laura, writers created collages using copies of archival documents and some contemporary statistics to share the stories of the girls who attended the New York State Training Schools.


Chelsea: What was the process like sorting through the archival material? Was there any one piece of evidence that stuck with you? Or left you wanting to know more? 

 

Tobi and Laura: Sorting through the archival materials was at first an overwhelming experience as there are 106 documents of many different types in the Durfee collection as well as additional materials such as the Training School intake ledger, annual reports, and other institutional documents in the New York State Archives. We spent time reviewing digital copies of materials from the collection as well as hours in the NY State Library and Archives. 

 

It took us several years of looking at the documents and working on various methods of sorting, categorizing and writing about them to even begin to arrive at  some kind of understanding of how these documents and the voices of these long deceased girls provided information about the conditions of their incarceration at the Training School and how they could speak to us in the 21st century. We have gone through a process over  many years of talking, writing about and sharing the documents with various publics such as incarcerated writers, teachers of incarcerated writers, Hudson residents and outside students. The response of all of these groups have helped us to better understand the Training School documents; for example, an incarcerated writer will make a meaningful connection to their own experience of incarceration, thus helping us understand that many conditions of incarceration in America still persist and cut across time and space.

 

The many  photographs included in the Durfee box collection are very intriguing to us: who took the photos?  For what reason?  What lies beyond the camera’s frame?  While there multiple photos of girls in the collection, some named, some unnamed, with babies, other women, a man who may be Lila Thomas’ fiance, it was Durfee box document #50, a photo of a large, ordinary- looking dog and her puppies, that  caught Laura’s attention. The name “Gladys” is written on the bottom of the front of the photo. The only other document that names Gladys in the collection is a court document pertaining to Glady’s discharge and parole. 

 

There is a hand-written note on the book of the photo that reads “Ma and the babies, Ma was mad because she was weaning the babies & did not want to stand, Ma is collie and Airedale but the puppies mostly collie” with the name “Gladys” written in red at the bottom of the photo. The photo stands out as an example of what scholar Jennifer Sinor, in her book The Extraordinary Work of Ordinary Writing: Annie Ray’s Diary, calls “the extraordinary ordinary,” the everyday, the discarded, the not literary or otherwise notable document; it is not even a photo of a person. The dog is an ordinary  mixed breed; the puppies, while cute, are scruffy. The photo shows us that everyday, ordinary life went on for the girls at the Training School and that they, like any adolescent girls, had everyday concerns, such as a beloved pet. 

 

Tobi was inspired by a different photo, one featuring a girl who likely inscribed a note to the intended recipient on the back. It is signed Dazzle and features a girl seated in a light-colored dress with a look of confidence and charm upon her face.  Her note reads “...“Don’t you want to keep me company? I’m awfully lonesome sitting here all along. This dress is blue silk. You’d never think it tho—would you?  Write soon. All the love in the world to you dear from me dear.” The photograph is one of several snapshots included in the Durfee archive, most appearing to feature women residing at the school, sometimes with others, sometimes alone. Like the letters penned by the women, the photos counternarrate the medical forms and institutional histories by widening our deepening understanding of how young women experienced life at and beyond the Training School. Dazzle’s message, one of few examples of personal writing we located, makes no reference to her incarcerated status;  it is an assertion of her own rhetorical agency, one in which she is a speaking subject, unlike Lila who appears only as an object of the social worker’s inquiry and her mother’s worried remarks, like all of the documents in the Durfee collection, the Dazzle photograph raised many questions: was this kind of personal communication “ allowed,” or was it considered risky contraband? In any case, it is her self-identification to an unknown recipient as a lonely young woman in a blue silk dress, reaching out for love or companionship that caught the attention of contemporary respondents in our study:

 

Dear Dazzle,


I am glad to hear from you, but sad that you feel alone. If it was possible I would love to enjoy your company again at this moment. No, I would’ve never thought it...you do look dazzling in your blue silk dress. I want you to do something for me. Whenever you feel alone, spread your arms wide because that’s how much I love you and more.  You will always know that your (sic) not alone. (inside writer) 

 

“I would like to respond to Dazzle. As I look through her photograph, I feel compelled to tell her to seize a strength that has yet to be uncovered. I would tell her to resist the narratives under which these institutions seek to portray her.” (outside writer)


While the literal representations of Dazzle--her hair style, clothing and shoes--and the type and quality of the  photograph itself along with the location of the photo’s discovery suggest that the image is from the 1920s or 1930s, as researchers, we invoke what Jackie Jones Royster and Gesa Kirsch’s Feminist Rhetorical Practices frames as “critical imagination” to understand how the photo functions alongside court documents, results of invasive STD testing, and social histories. The snapshot records Dazzle in a relaxed and happy pose.  She grins at the photographer, seemingly at ease on a bright day, a scene that offers a stark contrast to the images documented in the 1920s annual reports from the Training School which depict domestic training classes, formal relaxation on an outdoor green, or isolated girls in their rooms. Dazzle’s pose and writing invite engagement in the middle of what is likely an institutional training regime intended to rewrite such affections into a more polished and restrained version of womanhood. That the photograph remains in the Durfee box suggests both that it did not find its intended recipient but was valuable enough representation of Dazzle’s experience to be preserved. We think so.

 

Chelsea: Why is it important to use a feminist critical lens to examine the experiences incarcerated girls had at the NY State Training School?

 

Tobi and Laura: We have chosen to use a critical feminist historiographic approach for this project  so we may  foreground the neglected and suppressed voices of  the incarcerated women and girls  of the Training School by working with these fragmentary archival documents across time and space.  In their collection Ethics and Representation in Feminist Rhetorical Inquiry, Amy Dayton and Jennie Vaughn note that feminist rhetorical research has three main components “recovery and revision” of texts by women and girls, “case study research of particular sites of reading and writing,” and finally, an expanded view of “linguistic practices” that “’count as women’s rhetoric’” (5).  We have worked to pay attention to all three of these areas in  our study of the girls of the New York State Training School. The documents were literally rescued from a yard sale, and  we focus on the Training School in the 1920s and 30s as a “case study” of the literacy/rhetorical practices of both the incarcerated girls and the carceral institution. We hope to move traditional historiographic practices toward a feminist public memory approach by questioning who can critically read and respond to archival texts by incorporating in the book  engaged responses from currently and formerly incarcerated writers, college faculty and students, and activists and staff working in U.S. criminal justice contexts. Their responses disrupt the story that institutional documents have long foregrounded as the officially archived  historical record of girls and their experiences of confinement at the school, a familiar  narrative that is  often contested by people who write and think about contemporary mass incarceration in the United States. 


We hope to reread and rewrite stories of girls incarcerated at the Training School to honor and restore agency to their lives and suggest alternatives to the characterizations of the girls as immoral, incorrigible, and delinquent and to rescue their stories from the trash bin of history they might have been relegated to. Our use of a feminist historiographic lens allows us to focus on both currently incarcerated girls and women and the girls of the Training School, who could not tell their own stories and are largely defined by the remaining institutional documents that fix them in stories of deviance and criminality. They were so much more, and we hope that our use of this lens can help us re-see and rewrite their stories as well as those of the thousands of currently incarcerated girls and women. By bringing these narratives to light, we can begin to build a public memory site for the girls of the Training School and add to the growing number of archival projects from carceral spaces that bring the hidden stories of the over two million citizens incarcerated in the U.S. to public attention.


Pop-Up Museum (2 of 3), Summer 2015. 

 

Chelsea: How can the revelations from your book be applied to the contemporary U.S Justice System? 

 

Tobi and Laura: Our aim is best described as revisionary; we hope to bring alternative narratives into view about the lives of girls residing at the Training School in the early 20th Century by contrasting and extending the largely silent story told by institutional records. The project also introduces a methodology for inviting currently incarcerated people and their advocates to engage with historical narratives in order to re-see their own circumstances within a flawed justice system.  Writing about concepts of freedom, voice, identity, and equality with inspiration from diverse archival materials invites a long view of (in)justice in the United States. Our books invites prison educators, writers, and activists to see spaces like the New York State Training School for Girls and the women who lived within its confines as part of a history worth remembering and revisioning. In line with the National Archives guiding principles for reparative description, we encourage writing educators and advocates to adopt the following kinds of actions:

 

  • to encourage active participation and transparency in the selection of historical materials through training in archival methodologies when possible, 
  • to identify and circulate local/regional/national archived prison materials responsibly, particularly those that are under-seen and/or suppressed,
  • to improve visibility of the long view of justice and institutionalization in the United States by making space for currently incarcerated people (and their advocates) to identify patterns and cycles within systems of confinement with particular attention to examples of repression and injustice
  • To reflect actively and often on the ethics of circulating and writing about experiences of incarceration–historical and contemporary. 

Chelsea: How can readers learn more?  

 

Tobi and Laura: We aim to have the book completed soon and are happy to correspond with interested readers.  We can be reached via email at tjacobi@colostate.edu and laura.rogers@acphs.edu



Pop-Up Museum (3 of 3), Summer 2015. 



Works Cited 

"About The Prison Public Memory Project." (2011), The Prison Public Memory Project, https://www.prisonpublicmemory.org/about.

"Archival Postcard of the New York State Training School for Girls." (2016, May 6), Incorrigibles, https://incorrigibles.org/get-involved/share-your-story-with-us/foralison2_f-tif/.

Jacobi, & Rogers. (2015, Summer), "Pop-Up Museum Photos 1-3," Personal Gallery

NY Prison Archive." Prison Public Memory Project on Flickrhttps://www.flickr.com/photos/prison-public-memory-project/albums/72157689809794984


Thursday, December 8, 2022

Getting Sandpointed: A Conversation with Jackie Henrion

 



Getting Sandpointed: A Conversation with Jackie Henrion

 

KIRPAL GORDON: Reading the poetry collection, Sandpointed, I wonder if the community in Sandpoint, Idaho, knows you from your weekly radio broadcast you host and curate, “Songs-Voices-Poems,” every Sunday at 7 PM on KRFY 88.5? I ask because the book is like an extension of your radio show! What also knocked me out is this back cover blurb from the town mayor’s wife Katie Greenland: “Sandpointed is a wise women’s collective weaving of place, presence, and possibility. At once a portrait of sassy poetics, a song of seasonal survivance, and a recipe for medicinal brew sure to tantalize any literary appetite. Written by a royal flush of witty and playful writers well-versed in lettered seduction. A soul-nourishing read.” Quite skillful of you and your writing group to get your town represented in the arts!

 

JACKIE HENRION: We were thrilled to have her endorsement. Katie and her husband, Shelby Rognstad, are not only supporters of the arts but they are courageous thought leaders, and devoted parents to their two children. As part of her doctorate studies in Leadership from Gonzaga, she now conducts presentations and workshops around the world about the power of women’s stories. In fact, the other endorsements at the front of the book are from a number of potent women in the Sandpoint arts community: Carol Deaner from the Pend Oreille Arts Council, Karin Wedemeyer, founder of the Sandpoint Music Conservatory and Suzy Prez, Manager of 88.5 KRFY.

 

KIRPAL GORDON: It appears this group has a long history. Why did you decide to publish a book now?

 

JACKIE HENRION: With covid restrictions and shutdowns, the women of the Sandpoint Monday Writers decided we would stop meeting for a while. Our long-term meeting place, Foster’s Crossing, an artistically quirky antique mall and restaurant, closed. We missed each other. We also missed the weekly practice: writing extemporaneously to prompts, witnessing our feelings, and giving wings to our creativity. In 2022, we decided to reinstate the meetings at the new Monarch Mountain Coffee, recently relocated to the heart of downtown Sandpoint. The book honors the writing process and this moment in time—our moment in time when women’s voices are at the crest of a cultural tsunami.

 

Jackie Henrion, Rhoda Sanford, Sandy Lamson, Robens Napolitan, Desiree Aguirre, Sandra Rasor



KIRPAL GORDON: Cultural tsunami? How so?

 

JACKIE HENRION: The most evident tsunami is that of high-profile figures held to account for their abuse of power for sexual ends. Women are challenging traditions around the globe, most evidently in the Middle East, on the African continent, and in France. During the covid shutdowns we had more time to reflect how human culture is changing in many related ways. For example, younger generations are showing us how to be more fluid in our identities, our jobs, and our families. In over a decade of Monday morning writing sessions, we also see changes in our language. We have matured in our perspective, occupying more space and holding the interspace for other women; less judgmental and more nuanced in our observations. Not just about poetic details but about ourselves. In a way, we are more forgiving of our formative conditions. Aging together makes us laugh more about our hair color, weight, families, memory lapses, and pets. Sandy Lamson’s piece, “The Oldest Bike,” is evocative in this way: ...“it leans against the wall to witness everything going on. The oldest bike in Sandpoint is envious; the last time it tried to see and hear everything, someone pushed it outside, where it fell into a crumpled heap from which it could not extricate itself without assistance. It was very embarrassing.”

 

KIRPAL GORDON: How did you discover or decide on the title Sandpointed?

 

JACKIE HENRION: We stretched the town’s name to a descriptive term to increase its stickiness. If you know a little about the literary history of the Northwest, you will have heard of Richard Hugo, the revered poetry professor at Montana State Bozeman, memorialized by the Hugo House in Seattle. He wrote a book called The Triggering Town, about his poetic philosophy. The resultant dominant cultural legacy from Seattle’s University of Washington out to the plains of Montana, is place-based. Certainly in Sandpoint, our creative language can’t help but include the geography, such as my poem “Lake This.”

“The lake exudes a tufted sailing regatta, lofted

Scrims wafting, floating, coasting along

The viscous surface about to be ice.

Like tall ships and small craft, drifting in the Northward breeze

Stately procession, over immobilized waves. Ducks

Dive, punctuating the edge of the crust periodically, Purposefully."

 

Or Desiree’s story about Marburl, the lone post-apocalyptic figure who accumulates family on his way to the remembered safety of Sandpoint. In this way one can see Sandpoint as an enclave of hope where men and women can navigate new streams from their regional cultural lineage.

 


KIRPAL GORDON: The reputation of North Idaho and the extremist community called the American Redoubt movement have grabbed headlines in the recent past.

 

JACKIE HENRION: They are a noisy minority. But our group chooses to focus instead on authentic experiences and communal sensibilities. This book amplifies our shared experiences. We wish to become louder, inspire others. We write about this place and the paradox and diversity of viewpoints found here. We embrace them all. Writing our first and best thoughts, reading them to each other, and acknowledging each other happens quietly, yet profoundly, every week.

 

KIRPAL GORDON: Does the Sandpoint community know that you received your MFA degree from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University? I ask because your poetry project reflects a commitment to make community wherever you are, which the original JKSDP program directors, Allen Ginsberg and Anne Waldman, powerfully espoused. How did your degree from Naropa affect this project?

 

JACKIE HENRION: Although my work at Naropa influenced my language, our writing group uses the concepts through osmosis. At Naropa, I experimented with writing tools that helped me rise above cliches and think more poetically from Eleni Sikelianos. I also learned much about women’s writing and philosophy in Gabrielle Civil's class, discovering my lineage of the interspace and bridging through Dickinson, AnzaldĂșa, Perloff, and others. From Anne Waldman, I learned how politics begins and ends with personal sensations. But more than anything, I absorbed the value of continuing focus and energy: The “vow to poetry,” Anne describes. To learn the fundamentals of eloquent expression, then to value it enough to go to print, is a kind of sacred rite. As a result, it has been a delight to work with Laura Wahl at Turtlemoon Publishing, whose underlying mission is to publish women's stories and work. My MFA from Naropa helped me navigate the curating, editing, publishing, and marketing arenas more confidently. But all this knowledge fits within my parallel study of meditation and mind.

 

KIRPAL GORDON: Can you say more about your study of mind?

 

JACKIE HENRION: Before I went to Naropa, I had experience with meditation, and my undergraduate degree was in psychology. Then I encountered the work of psychologist Daniel J. Siegel. His concepts provide a framework and tools to integrate all of this knowledge in a helpful way for writing. I will mention only two here. His “wheel of awareness” describes four areas of insight critical to growth: the five senses, sensory awareness of subtle internal body processes, our thoughts and emotions, and finally, interpersonal dynamics. We can rise above the conventional when writers integrate language in these areas.

            The second is what I see as original innocence. When we start to discover ourselves through writing, we are more compassionate if we understand that we, and others, are formed from our DNA and circumstances. We learn how to survive through our formative environments.  For example, Robens’ poem, “Where God Lives,” is a poignant artifact of her upbringing as a minister's daughter.

“In my palms, the heat of suppressed youth

pulsed and ran up past the restricting cuffs

of my Sunday dress into my restless arms.”

 

When we become more self-aware through these writing processes, we learn that we can choose our actions and words differently with a focus of attention. Then our writing can take wings poetically. Our resultant growth and integration and provides something valuable for readers.

 

 


KIRPAL GORDON: How do you see that shaking out for readers of Sandpointed?

 

JACKIE HENRION: I see it as a kind of chamber music. The unique thing we have found through the group is a resonance of words and concepts. We achieve this resonance through one of our processes: collecting a list of words during the month which we use directly or for inspiration. In our writing, you can hear a repetition or echo in the finished pieces. Like the first poem by Desiree Aguirre mentions porcupines, so does one of my poems. You will also encounter some “recipes” from different writers. These repetitions are random and individually filtered yet pull the work together: a collection of “Wild Minds” at work. Like music, it takes time to absorb the vibrational qualities. Rhoda's Sanford's last poem in the book, “Give It Some Time,” is an apt invocation:

“...savor the taste,

feel the richness.

Relax into the pungent whisper of fulfillment.”

 

 Hopefully, it will inspire people to take this home and start writing groups of their own. It can be transformative---in the most subtle and fundamental ways.

 

KIRPAL GORDON: How can readers find the book?

 

JACKIE HENRION: It’s available on Amazon as well as in local shops (https://a.co/d/9o0OHWh). Many come to Sandpoint to enjoy skiing, the lake amenities, hunting, fishing, and scenery. But this book is a gift to yourself or someone else about real people who live here, their interior landscape, their hopes for growth, and ultimately their courage to share their work.