One more pat on the back...

bioflash: "Bartleby's Return"

“You could flip burgers at McDonalds.”

“I would prefer not to.”

“My stag, this weekend, in Vegas!”

“I would prefer not to.”

“We can smoke in this strip club.”

“I would prefer not to.”

“Bottled water—half price at Walmart!”

“Britney’s singing on Broadway!”

“Our special today: no fat, ginger, grande chai latte with whipped soy milk.”

“Having an iphone makes everything easier.”

“The season finale of Survivor: Timbuktu is starting!”

“I would prefer not to.”

“Want to lead a simple life where your actions inspire community and growth?”

“That, I would prefer.”

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Bioflash found here!

Farewell, Paddy

Paddy (aka Paddykins or Padwon),

You were an old girl when I met you. Yet unforgettably cute and feisty with an indomitable spirit--and appetite. Your teeth were few but your experiences were many. I remember the time when our daily ritual involved me writing 2,000 words and taking you for an afternoon walk in Mokpo, South Korea. We managed 76,000 words worth of walks. I still recall the Koreans who were curious about you. You diverted attention from my long hair and beard to your white curls and adorable snout. The locals who tried to pet you didn't realize you weren't one to mess with. I can hardly blame you for snapping at them--I'd probably do the same if a stranger thrust their fingers in my face. You knew how to keep your boundaries, a lesson I'm still learning. Despite your size, you were the alpha-dog, keeping Xuxa (and Luna) in line.

Our adventures were many. That time we snuck you onto a bus, and didn't get caught until we arrived at the airport. Hiking around Alexander Falls on my birthday, carrying you in a bag over my shoulder. The low tide walk just outside White Rock. You made it all the way out to the marker (although you refused to go on another walk for days afterward).

Even though you could be a curmudgeon, you made your way into my heart. I miss you, Paddy.

Bioflash: "Water"

One oxygen atom and a pair of hydrogen.

Sparkling dew on a garden leaf.

Gentle rain casting circles on a lily pond.

The floating prism twisting colours into a rainbow.

Lenticular clouds capping a mountain range.

A billion individual crystal snowflakes.

Glaciers glowing blue as the ocean deep.

A river carving boulder into pebble.

A waterfall shedding mist as clouds of heaven.

A lake swimming with fins and fish.

An icicle dripping its liquid body into a driveway puddle.

White breath on a cold morning.

The well from which life sprang.

One oxygen atom and a pair of hydrogen.

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Bioflash found here!

Penticton: a poem

You can read, comment and vote for my poem, "Penticton", at the following location:

http://www.everydaypoets.com/penticton-by-lee-beavington

Cheers,
Lee

Wow!

Wednesday night, the Kwantlen Writers' Guild held their annual reading event, and also announced the winners of the creative writing contest. I entered two poems, and one piece for nonfiction and fiction, in hopes of placing in one of the three categories.

Beforehand, I was a little nervous about getting up to read in front of the 40 or 50 people present. So when my friend Tanya arrived, she promptly suggested that we dance in the corner where the music was coming from. Not a bad way to shake the nerves (despite being stared at by everyone in the room!)

My parents were also there. Reading three of my bioflash went fine, and after several other readings Sheila Hancock, the outgoing chair of the Creative Writing department, announced the winners of the contest.

"The judging was blind," she assured everyone. "For poetry, first place goes to Lee Beavington."

Needless to say, I was quite surprised. Poetry isn't my strongest suit, and I had just heard some very strong poets, such as Karen Ezra, give stellar readings of their work. Up I went to shake Sheila's hand and get a copy of the Kwantlen Writers' Guild journal, in which my poem appears.

Second and third place for poetry were announced, and then on to nonfiction. "In second place we have...Lee Beavington!"

Up I went again. Then fiction came, in which I held little hope, as I had submitted a fantasy-flavoured piece, and I assumed the journal catered to what some consider to be "literary". Sheila called out the winners.

"First place goes to Lee Beavington!"

Flabbergasted by this point, I went up and proceeded to apologize to the crowd. My current creative writing instructor (Aislinn Hunter--big thanks to her for organizing the event) called out: "Lee slept with all the judges!"

The annual creative writing scholarship went to my talented classmate Angela Kenyon (who also placed second in the poetry category). Congrats to her! Before they announced the winner of the scholarship, a short piece was read about each applicant, including me. My teacher, Zoe Landale, wrote the following, which was read by the incoming chair (and inspirational teacher galore) Ross Laird:

Lee Beavington is a writer with courage. Getting to the places which resonate with readers requires going deep into the places where we ourselves are uncertain, and shadows leap high on the cave walls. Lee is a person who cares about stories. He also has a great work ethic and goes back over and over his writing until it fairly gleams.

I've been beaming since last night.

Bioflash: "Meeting in the Aisle"

Twenty-three years—that’s the last time he had seen Vera, her face flushed and skin glowing. Now, she pushed a cart with fruit loops and spaghettiOs. A girl of ten or eleven, platinum blonde just like her mom, trailed after Vera.

He noticed her face, hardened somehow, the skin tighter. Softness is what he remembered; smooth cheek, supple breast. This gaunt mother gave him—her past life—a brief glance, an old building long-since torn down and built anew.

He watched her move away, rubbed clammy hands on a pant leg, and emptied his basket at the self-service checkout.

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Bioflash archives

Bioflash: "The Life of Blood"

Arteries and veins—our fluid freeways—provide a direct line from the lungs to every living cell. One red blood cell shuttles a billion oxygen in its donut-shaped disc, stacking capillaries with the breath of life. No DNA guides this cell. Born in the bone marrow, he is slave to a merciless heart. One hundred days later, broken and beaten, the red blood cell disassembles. A new car is made from his old parts, this vital transport racing along dilated vessels. And so blood flows with every beat, carrying life from lung to tissue, artery to vein, heart to cell.

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Bioflash archives

Bioflash: "Broken"

The bus from Williams Lake was late.

Stu sat in the idling car, waiting for his son. They hadn’t spoken in over ten years. What could he say? What possible comfort could this old curmudgeon offer?

The bus finally pulled in. Tim was one of the last to get off. Stu saw it in his eyes, and held back tears last shed twenty-nine years ago. Tears for his son’s birth. But this time, birth had taken two lives.

Stu said nothing and hugged his son hard. He held him for a long time, but he did not cry.

Bioflash: "Microscope"

This crystal ball waits in the biology lab, ever-patient in her mounting curiosity. Through her glasses the world is clear: a beaming, unblemished full moon. Lenses and light make the invisible visible, the tiny titanic. One dot resolves into two, one cell a bustling city of constant construction, movement and repair. To an observer, looking through a window at the building blocks of life, the small appears infinite, like God staring down at his divine elements, mesmerized by the miracle of his makeup. Thus, this optical opus blesses the naked eye with the power to gaze into creation itself.

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