To my neighbors who seem very nice, despite using the loudest leaf blowers on planet earth
To my neighbors who seem very nice, despite using the loudest leaf blowers on planet earth
a poem about rage + a writing prompt
The Webs We Weave is a free weekly-ish newsletter on staying connected to ourselves, making connections in our creative work, and feeling more connected in the world.
I keep seeing trailers for the new Twisters movie out this summer and having flashbacks to the time I saw the 1996 movie Twister in theaters with my parents. It was nearly 30 years ago and I can still feel the weight of my palms smothering my ears against my skull, with an extra a pair of dad-sized hands sandwiching mine. Two sets of human earmuffs against a wall of sound for two straight hours.
Noise and I have long been adversaries.
As a kid, my reaction was strongest in response to loud noises. I’d cower and jam my fingers into my ears at the first hint of a firetruck approaching. These days, noises across the volume spectrum have a way of rousing my anger. Knuckle cracking, loud talkers, audible chewing... they all make me murderous, to the point that I assumed I was either broken or unreasonably uptight.
The day I learned the word misophonia felt like proof I owed my rage an apology. I'm sorry I assumed you were just being dramatic.
Chief among my auditory grievances? YARD EQUIPMENT.
I should state for the record that all of my immediate neighbors are warm, very kind people. But when I tell you they must own the loudest leaf blowers on planet earth, and that I’m starting to suspect they plot to use them on a coordinated schedule so that we are never not surrounded by a cacophony of sound during the warmer months... you'll have to take my word for it.
One workday afternoon this spring when the irratic revving was getting under my skin even more than usual, I fired off a text to my husband down the hall.
By the end of the day, my little text-outburst had become a poem—a phenomenon that's becoming more and more familiar in my writing life.
Writing Prompts for Your Practice
Feel free to stash these away and use them however you please: as fodder for journaling, to inspire your next poem or essay, to warm up you brain before you move into your 'real work'—whatever feels aligned with your practice!
Prompts:
What's something specific that triggers your anger or your rage, even if you wish it didn't?
Find the last text message you sent. Use it as the title (or a jumping off point) for your next poem or essay.
If you write something from one of these prompts that you're inclined to share, I'd love to read it! Make sure to tag me and/or leave a comment below.
Until next time,
Michelle
Loved that poem!
I resonate with this so much. 🥹