Comments on: #coffeebreak: solar eclipse in reims http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/ Mark Welker is a short fiction writer living in Melbourne, Australia. Thu, 12 Jan 2012 03:00:37 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.1.1 By: Daniel Simpson http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/comment-page-1/#comment-401 Daniel Simpson Mon, 05 Jul 2010 05:59:54 +0000 http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/#comment-401 Hey Mark - just to let you know that the piece that I wrote here got shortlisted for the inaugural Peter Cowan Writers' Centre '600' competition. Pretty pleased with myself. Hey Mark – just to let you know that the piece that I wrote here got shortlisted for the inaugural Peter Cowan Writers’ Centre ’600′ competition.

Pretty pleased with myself.

]]> By: Benjamin http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/comment-page-1/#comment-51 Benjamin Wed, 03 Mar 2010 01:28:47 +0000 http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/#comment-51 Who are you calling a "green tea man"??? Who are you calling a “green tea man”???

]]> By: Mark http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/comment-page-1/#comment-49 Mark Wed, 03 Mar 2010 01:10:40 +0000 http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/#comment-49 Noted. I want you to imagine hence forth, that this could be any type of break. Maybe you are a green tea man? Noted. I want you to imagine hence forth, that this could be any type of break. Maybe you are a green tea man?

]]> By: Benjamin http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/comment-page-1/#comment-48 Benjamin Wed, 03 Mar 2010 00:51:54 +0000 http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/#comment-48 By the way, I don't drink coffee... By the way, I don’t drink coffee…

]]> By: Benjamin http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/comment-page-1/#comment-47 Benjamin Wed, 03 Mar 2010 00:49:54 +0000 http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/#comment-47 Temporarily mesmorised by the drones with filters glued to their writhing faces. Something breaks inside the porticoes of my mind, why it is that we search so hard for acceptance when really what we question is who we are and where we fit in. Comparison is the death knell of happiness for it is only when we appreciate our differences, can we become anything less than strangers to each other. Value our diversity. How often have we uttered this creed, yet how many of us fail to respond appropriately as we re-enter the womb of our insular madness. "Throw away your possessions, they will one day own you". Give up your ambitions, to be free, to be truly that which you desire. Run toward your goal for at least half an hour per day and extend this until you are within reach. Then let it fall away so gently. You will know yourself better through your failures than you will by any form of success and this is a worthy goal, to find out who you are... Temporarily mesmorised by the drones with filters glued to their writhing faces. Something breaks inside the porticoes of my mind, why it is that we search so hard for acceptance when really what we question is who we are and where we fit in. Comparison is the death knell of happiness for it is only when we appreciate our differences, can we become anything less than strangers to each other. Value our diversity. How often have we uttered this creed, yet how many of us fail to respond appropriately as we re-enter the womb of our insular madness. “Throw away your possessions, they will one day own you”. Give up your ambitions, to be free, to be truly that which you desire. Run toward your goal for at least half an hour per day and extend this until you are within reach. Then let it fall away so gently. You will know yourself better through your failures than you will by any form of success and this is a worthy goal, to find out who you are…

]]> By: Mark http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/comment-page-1/#comment-42 Mark Thu, 25 Feb 2010 07:37:28 +0000 http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/#comment-42 Jesus, you really are missing your coffee Dan. My favourite line is "the moon was a wet tea towel pushed into your throat". Jesus, you really are missing your coffee Dan. My favourite line is “the moon was a wet tea towel pushed into your throat”.

]]> By: Daniel Simpson http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/comment-page-1/#comment-41 Daniel Simpson Thu, 25 Feb 2010 07:16:34 +0000 http://www.markwelker.com/2010/02/coffeebreak-total-solar-eclipse-in-reims/#comment-41 Sun poured out of her eyes, thick and gooey like marmalade. She smiled and drops of pure light dribbled into the upturned corners of her mouth. It tasted of grass, sugar, and oddly, horse hair. She wasn’t at all fazed by this though; frankly she’d been through enough eclipses to know that what was to come would be much worse. Etienne had told her that in some places – far off scary places – there were people who actually preferred the taste of the darker, richer lunar silver. Marianne couldn’t think of anything worse, especially right at this minute, seconds before she would taste it. There was something so unnatural about the moon, the darkness. It suffocated. The sun was like a mouthful of fresh air, the moon was a wet tea towel pushed into your throat. It was torture, and unfortunately there was nothing the United Nations could do about it. Apparently God was outside their jurisdiction. Her mouth was now full of sun, so that it poured out between the cracks in her teeth, and she remembered her father, her dear papa who would take her swimming and hiking and taught her hymns and how to love. He had been a short of stature, wide of shoulder and big on life. Until he left her. She had expected him to be there for her always so when he left it had rocked her and rolled her up into a quivering ball so that when the mortician came to take his chilled body away she was unable to hug him just one more time, unable to wrap her arms around his dessicated shoulders, despite the urgings of her wailing aunts. She could taste iron, as though she had sucked on a paper cut and too late Marianne realised that the lunar was here and like a old time ship captain, she strapped herself to the mast of any good memory she could find, and prepared to ride it out. She looked over at Etienne. His knuckles were white in his clenched fists. Sun poured out of her eyes, thick and gooey like marmalade. She smiled and drops of pure light dribbled into the upturned corners of her mouth. It tasted of grass, sugar, and oddly, horse hair. She wasn’t at all fazed by this though; frankly she’d been through enough eclipses to know that what was to come would be much worse.
Etienne had told her that in some places – far off scary places – there were people who actually preferred the taste of the darker, richer lunar silver. Marianne couldn’t think of anything worse, especially right at this minute, seconds before she would taste it. There was something so unnatural about the moon, the darkness.
It suffocated.
The sun was like a mouthful of fresh air, the moon was a wet tea towel pushed into your throat. It was torture, and unfortunately there was nothing the United Nations could do about it. Apparently God was outside their jurisdiction.
Her mouth was now full of sun, so that it poured out between the cracks in her teeth, and she remembered her father, her dear papa who would take her swimming and hiking and taught her hymns and how to love. He had been a short of stature, wide of shoulder and big on life.
Until he left her. She had expected him to be there for her always so when he left it had rocked her and rolled her up into a quivering ball so that when the mortician came to take his chilled body away she was unable to hug him just one more time, unable to wrap her arms around his dessicated shoulders, despite the urgings of her wailing aunts.
She could taste iron, as though she had sucked on a paper cut and too late Marianne realised that the lunar was here and like a old time ship captain, she strapped herself to the mast of any good memory she could find, and prepared to ride it out.
She looked over at Etienne. His knuckles were white in his clenched fists.

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