Thought Wheel

From the mind of Ann Chiappetta

Bubble Wrap from May the Dog Diaries

| Filed under Relationships Writing Life

close up of May dog

May dog face close-up

My office opens into the living room. I hear much of what happens from my position, including when things are not what they seem. Today, unbeknownst to me, may decided to investigate the empty box on the couch. I was oblivious, typing away at some project or another. I heard bubble wrap popping sounds, then May hauling ass into the metal crate. Hmm, I thought, I wonder what mischief she’s gotten into now? I got up and grabbed the I.D. cane and used it to sweep around and found the errant bubble wrap. When I picked it up it was wet with dog slobber and had holes in it. I started laughing, picturing May trying to chew it and getting quite a surprise, hence the popping sounds and her jumping into the crate like she got a bit of a shock. Silly dog!

Audio Tracks

| Filed under Poem writing Writing Life

I’ve been experimenting with poems using the non-visual senses focused on specific items. The styles differ but the impact should resonate in some way emotionally as well as recalling sensory memory. I wrote this using one of my favorite food condiments.

The audio link is above the printed poem.

Dill and Brine
By Ann Chiappetta

Green and curved, bumps
diminutive gherkin cornichons
curved Kirby’s
Aromas bewitch salivatory glands
Jarred in glass
Brine Of herbs and salt vinegar.
Infused Tantalizing tartness
Wicked on the tongue
Olfactory humming with anticipation, the crunch
The layered satisfaction
Of Perfection.

2020

Pop Up Studio

| Filed under blindness writing Writing Life

Okay, folks, I am listening to your requests, 😊 Many of my friends wanted to know how I stepped into this home-grown recording studio thing in order to get my books on Audible. Ingenuity is born out of necessity, and my project objective was to create soundproofing without making it permanent.

The first step was to record and get feedback on the audio quality with my headset and office with the door closed. The feedback was received, suggesting softening the echo and also the background noise. I set in a chair near a window and the office door being closed did not shut out enough apartment noise, either. I tried a blanket over my head like a human tent pole but while it was better, it was hot and uncomfortable.

I was speaking to a writing friend and mentioned my dilemma and she said her husband uses moving blankets and hooks them to the wall. Amazon had two for less than $50. One draped over the curtain rod to cover the window and the other we rigged to close-off the desk area from the wall nearest the door to my desk. It works well and has made recordings better.

The photo is of my office desk, chair, pc and headset and the blanket strung across to act as a noise barrier using s hooks and metal posts. The blanket can be taken down, folded, and stored until it is needed.
This image requires alt text, but the alt text is currently blank. Either add alt text or mark the image as decorative.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Zoom helps pass the time

| Filed under blindness writing Writing Life

Hello all, I just wanted to share some thoughts during the C19 crisis. By now the likelihood that each of us has lost someone or knows someone who has contracted C19 is a reality. My heart feels it and my mind is distracted with worry. I know I am not alone in feeling this way, if you are reading this take some comfort in knowing we as a community understand what it means to be experiencing these unprecedented times and that you are not alone.
Taking in our current situation and communication limitations, due to physical distancing, I became a Zoom account user and below is the link to my first recorded meeting. The host is Patty Fletcher of Tell-It-to-The-World Marketing and Business Assist. I hope it is a novel distraction from what is going on right now.
https://tinyurl.com/tjqjgrm

Guest post on Rough Drafts

| Filed under blindness Fiction writing Writing Life

Hi folks, author and blogger, Debbie De Louise is hosting me as a guest blogger. Please visit
Guest Post by Fellow Pet Lover and author/Poet Ann Chiappetta

Featured Member on NFAA

| Filed under blindness Fiction Relationships writing Writing Life

I was selected as this week’s featured member of the Nonfiction Authors Association. Check out my interview here:
https://tinyurl.com/vm3u5v4

First blog post

| Filed under blindness Poem Relationships Writing Life

My first blog post on word press was on November 7, 2008. Since that time, I’ve completed 315 posts and attracted almost 500 followers. I hope to keep going and love to blog. Stand by for some older poetry and a new book. Until then, keep reading and writing.
https://www.thought-wheel.com/task-of-the-day/

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Old Poems Like New

| Filed under blindness Poem Relationships Writing Life

I began writing poetry in earnest after finding out I was going blind, in the early 1990s. Looking back, the poems I wrote during this dark time was a way to cope with the inevitable grief and loss I felt, and would feel, for a long time. Progressive vision loss infiltrates one’s sense of hope and resiliency,
Two emotional Aspects Which Appear in many of the poems written from the 1990s. The poems are also an inventory of sorts, and, as I become reacquainted with them, I am, in turn, becoming acquainted with my feelings and emotions during this time of fear, depression, and anger. I also discovered I’ve grown beyond these feelings and emotions and have learned to accept my disability and embrace the creativity and how much healing I’ve done since then.

Here is a song I found, written for a friend (really).

The Child Inside
Song lyrics

By Ann Chiappetta

family devotion died
the day he went away

The child inside
still cries when you sleep
The pain
makes you feel incomplete

He’s made a mess of your memories
He can’t come back into your life
And though you deny it
the reality cuts Like a knife

The child inside
still cries when you sleep
The pain
makes you feel incomplete

Don’t try to replace him
Sometimes lovers walk away, too;
discover why your heart
desires demons dressed in blue

The child inside
still cries when you sleep
The pain
makes you feel incomplete

2000

The Words Keep Coming

| Filed under blindness Poem Writing Life

I am often asked about the process of writing when being interviewed. Folks are curious about the manifestation of creativity and how it influences writing poetry. While I am certainly not an expert on the subject for anyone else but myself, I strongly suspect the Muse bestows the inspiration upon each of us in a unique manner. We do have gross similarities, like the tools we use, i.e., laptops or hand-written pages, etc., but we also diverge once the synapses fire and begin the journey of creation in each of our minds.

For example, I often dream my writing ideas. I’ve been awakened by lines of text, images, and what I call mental films playing along in my head. This is a curious thing, because I’ve been blind for over thirty years yet I continue to dream as if I’d never lost it. Full technicolor, for sure.

Recently I awoke from a musing and it resulted in a poem, the first poem written in 2020. I also somehow created a fantasy story with a swashbuckling immortal character named Von and a humanoid species called Felini, cat-like creatures with names like Tika, Shona, and Flame. Where the story will take me, only the muse knows but I like where I’m going. I wish I could share the poem, but, now that potential publishers and literary magazines consider posting on a blog “previously published” and will reject an author’s work because of this, I must hold such things aside until published. May the Muse be with you.

Poem from the poetry collection, Upwelling; Poems C 2016 availible on Amazon and Audible
DREAM
© 2016 by Ann Chiappetta

Sleep-film portrays lurching scenes of Disney World
damp pavement trod on by millions of feet.
You stand on the recently dried cobblestones
of Main Street U.S.A.
A somber overcoat hangs on you like a dish rag.
emancipating your regrets.
Tears and mumbled blessings
mix as our faces touch.
Your cheek is cold and cancerous.

Sleep-film shuffles

Scrambling through the Florida downpour
A Barker lures us inside.
My florid yellow jacket drips
Your loose, somber coat is as dry as a shroud.
Inside, double doors lead to a great hall.
Black tie patrons rotate on the dance floor like dolls.
Your arm sweeps in the gala affair,
“A gift for us to remember me.” you say.
I’m aggrieved by your vanity

Flash point warnings ignite around us
like confetti stars
the dolls applaud as they fall.

Fear not, here is something written and previously published.