It was his favorite song the DJ cranked to vibrate the very walls, and it was all he could do to make his way up the three flight on the spiral grand staircase, swimming was it was with equal amounts colorful balloons and innumerable people. The deafening throbbing of the base echoed up his hand on the ancient doorknob and through his entire body as he reluctantly shut to door that only slightly muffled the end of the dancing thrum of Daft Punk and onto the beginning of another familiar rhythm.
He grinned.
By the unforgettable base line..it had to be.. He could hear the chorus whisper through the wood..
People are strange...
He looked about the room he entered, and immediately regretted it. He smile faded, but did not die;"The Doors" had the music that always made him smile no matter what.
..when you're the stranger..
There, right across from him, was the open balcony. The decorative wrought iron did nothing to hide the view; the dizzying height, even from this distance, made him instinctively press his back against the wall. A slight breeze billowed the curtains towards him, almost as if they were welcoming arms.
..People get ugly...
He shook his head slightly, and swallowed his bile. Forced his eyes away from the beckoning threat before him.
..When you're alone..
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
A Mission Inn story..
.as relayed by a good friend of mine told of a possible murder at the third level of the building.
I was trying to get him to go on a tour, and he was vehemently refusing, due to a grudge he has against the place.
This came as a surprise to me.
It involved a mutual friend I met a long time ago in high school, and I really should remember him-- but I don't. The guy apparently fell to his death from the third level, even though he was deathly afraid of heights. The police are said to claim he was on drugs, but my friend claims the tests showed he was clean. In high school, most all of the people I hung around were part of a "drug free" club, so I believe him.
Now, I find I'm looking at the third level, and at the various fancy balconies every time I wander by, and think about all the ways how it could have happened.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
I was trying to get him to go on a tour, and he was vehemently refusing, due to a grudge he has against the place.
This came as a surprise to me.
It involved a mutual friend I met a long time ago in high school, and I really should remember him-- but I don't. The guy apparently fell to his death from the third level, even though he was deathly afraid of heights. The police are said to claim he was on drugs, but my friend claims the tests showed he was clean. In high school, most all of the people I hung around were part of a "drug free" club, so I believe him.
Now, I find I'm looking at the third level, and at the various fancy balconies every time I wander by, and think about all the ways how it could have happened.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Completed drabble
Rosy dawn brightened the blue of the sky as she cracked her dark eyes open..
For the first time that she could recall, she eyed the massive, colorful domes with something like contentment. They were within easy view of the small broken alley she claimed as her own. The building beneath them was huge and looming: an ancient beast of solid structure somehow safely restrained behind numerous blocky adobe arches.
She watched the thing warily as she stretched, then shambled from the nest of shattered pipes and onto the cracked pavement that kissed the alley entrance. She allowed herself to enjoy the simple warmth of the sun gracing the soles of her bare feet, mind blissfully blank.
"Jaboozi!!"
She whirled about at the shrill high voice. She saw a single, tiny, chubby finger, attached to and equally tiny, chubby hand pointed in her direction. The lone child it belonged to looked at her wide-eyed in wonder, drool and spittle flowing down the chubby face unheeded.
"There you are.. " a woman rushed over and covered the child in a sweeping embrace. "Come on.. You scared mommy."
"Jaboozi..!" the child said again. The child's hand stretched out for a longing moment, then abruptly lowered as her bright eyes were instantly captured by something else.
"So sorry, I hope she didn't bother you...miss..?" The mother said dismissively while patting the child's back. Her pale orbs flicked her way, then fully focused on her, as if really seeing her for the first time. For that unmissed glance, those eyes were weighty with disgust.
'Jaboozi' fidgeted under the mother's scrutiny and straightened the ragged remains of her far-from-fine garments. The gaze disturbed her greatly, vaguely raising the notion that the mother and child had to be the mean ones that must always be avoided. She ducked her head low, absently pawing at the large dark stain upon her front as she turned abruptly about.
She found herself staring blankly at a large, whitewashed window, or rather the poster affixed to it. She could make out the boldest letters about the top, and read:
Riverside City Council Declares: Homeless Do Not Exist Within City Boundries.
She swallowed as she wrapped her arms about herself, and shuffled onward down the block with an aimless sort of purpose.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
For the first time that she could recall, she eyed the massive, colorful domes with something like contentment. They were within easy view of the small broken alley she claimed as her own. The building beneath them was huge and looming: an ancient beast of solid structure somehow safely restrained behind numerous blocky adobe arches.
She watched the thing warily as she stretched, then shambled from the nest of shattered pipes and onto the cracked pavement that kissed the alley entrance. She allowed herself to enjoy the simple warmth of the sun gracing the soles of her bare feet, mind blissfully blank.
"Jaboozi!!"
She whirled about at the shrill high voice. She saw a single, tiny, chubby finger, attached to and equally tiny, chubby hand pointed in her direction. The lone child it belonged to looked at her wide-eyed in wonder, drool and spittle flowing down the chubby face unheeded.
"There you are.. " a woman rushed over and covered the child in a sweeping embrace. "Come on.. You scared mommy."
"Jaboozi..!" the child said again. The child's hand stretched out for a longing moment, then abruptly lowered as her bright eyes were instantly captured by something else.
"So sorry, I hope she didn't bother you...miss..?" The mother said dismissively while patting the child's back. Her pale orbs flicked her way, then fully focused on her, as if really seeing her for the first time. For that unmissed glance, those eyes were weighty with disgust.
'Jaboozi' fidgeted under the mother's scrutiny and straightened the ragged remains of her far-from-fine garments. The gaze disturbed her greatly, vaguely raising the notion that the mother and child had to be the mean ones that must always be avoided. She ducked her head low, absently pawing at the large dark stain upon her front as she turned abruptly about.
She found herself staring blankly at a large, whitewashed window, or rather the poster affixed to it. She could make out the boldest letters about the top, and read:
Riverside City Council Declares: Homeless Do Not Exist Within City Boundries.
She swallowed as she wrapped her arms about herself, and shuffled onward down the block with an aimless sort of purpose.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Random Idea Generator..
I think writing, like art, is an essential daily discipline. It is also exceedingly hard to do within a vacuum.I am posting this resource for those times when the ideas seem particularly frozen within the brain. I still wonder if it has "zombies" in it, somewhere.
http://www.lifeformz.com/cgi-bin/idea/idea.fcgi
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
http://www.lifeformz.com/cgi-bin/idea/idea.fcgi
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Improved character drabble..
It's a bit cleaner, and I think it has some story potential now..
ooooooo
Rosy dawn brightened the blue of the sky as she cracked her dark eyes open..
For the first time that she could recall, she eyed the massive, colorful domes with something like contentment. They were within easy view of the small broken alley she claimed as her own. The building beneath them was huge and looming: an ancient beast of solid structure somehow safely restrained behind numerous blocky adobe arches.
She watched the thing warily as she stretched, then shambled from the nest of shattered pipes and onto the cracked pavement that kissed the alley entrance. She allowed herself to enjoy the simple warmth of the sun gracing the soles of her bare feet, mind blissfully blank.
"Jaboozi!!"
She whirled about at the shrill high voice. She saw a single, tiny, chubby finger, attached to and equally tiny, chubby hand pointed in her direction. The lone child it belonged to looked at her wide-eyed in wonder, drool and spittle flowing down the chubby face unheeded.
"There you are.. " a woman rushed over and covered the child in a sweeping embrace. "Come on.. You scared mommy."
"Jaboozi..!" the child said again. The child's hand stretched out for a longing moment, then abruptly lowered as her bright eyes were instantly captured by something else.
"So sorry, I hope she didn't bother you...miss..?" The mother said dismissively while patting the child's back. Her pale orbs flicked her way, then fully focused on her, as if really seeing her for the first time. For that unmissed glance, those eyes were weighty with disgust.
'Jaboozi' fidgeted under the mother's scrutiny and straightened the ragged remains of her far-from-fine garments. The gaze disturbed her greatly, vaguely raising the notion that the mother and child had to be the mean ones that must always be avoided. She ducked her head low, absently pawing at the large dark stain upon her front as she turned abruptly about.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
ooooooo
Rosy dawn brightened the blue of the sky as she cracked her dark eyes open..
For the first time that she could recall, she eyed the massive, colorful domes with something like contentment. They were within easy view of the small broken alley she claimed as her own. The building beneath them was huge and looming: an ancient beast of solid structure somehow safely restrained behind numerous blocky adobe arches.
She watched the thing warily as she stretched, then shambled from the nest of shattered pipes and onto the cracked pavement that kissed the alley entrance. She allowed herself to enjoy the simple warmth of the sun gracing the soles of her bare feet, mind blissfully blank.
"Jaboozi!!"
She whirled about at the shrill high voice. She saw a single, tiny, chubby finger, attached to and equally tiny, chubby hand pointed in her direction. The lone child it belonged to looked at her wide-eyed in wonder, drool and spittle flowing down the chubby face unheeded.
"There you are.. " a woman rushed over and covered the child in a sweeping embrace. "Come on.. You scared mommy."
"Jaboozi..!" the child said again. The child's hand stretched out for a longing moment, then abruptly lowered as her bright eyes were instantly captured by something else.
"So sorry, I hope she didn't bother you...miss..?" The mother said dismissively while patting the child's back. Her pale orbs flicked her way, then fully focused on her, as if really seeing her for the first time. For that unmissed glance, those eyes were weighty with disgust.
'Jaboozi' fidgeted under the mother's scrutiny and straightened the ragged remains of her far-from-fine garments. The gaze disturbed her greatly, vaguely raising the notion that the mother and child had to be the mean ones that must always be avoided. She ducked her head low, absently pawing at the large dark stain upon her front as she turned abruptly about.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thoughts on Inlandia, Riverside Workshop
It was after I wrote this down that I realised that I have a reallly suspicious mind. I was not kind at all; however, I will let this little rant stand.
++++++++
Nothing tells you that you don't matter all that much quite like someone not bothering to remember your name.
I witnessed political meandering occurring at the christmas gathering today. Our host is obviously very well off, as the house was glorious to behold. So is the Indian doctor who happens to be a poet. There are several teachers. An ex-policewoman. The fact that such professions are present tell me her fawning over them is an obvious, though subtle, ongoing effort to garner donations for this project.
There are also few sycophants, and "exotics" as well, originally from the leader's classes I suppose. Unlike myself, they were introduced. I can't help but think perhaps the leader likes to collect such about herself to make her feel as though this venture is somehow a genuine one.
It is no wonder this leader can't seem to remember my name. I am neither rich, nor an exotic foreigner. I am certainly not a synchophant. I do not fit into any neat, plastic, category. I suppose that to her, I am not worth the effort to even see past her ridiculous obsession with keeping the California desert pristine.
Perhaps producing my own project like I originally planned is the best course of action after all. Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
++++++++
Nothing tells you that you don't matter all that much quite like someone not bothering to remember your name.
I witnessed political meandering occurring at the christmas gathering today. Our host is obviously very well off, as the house was glorious to behold. So is the Indian doctor who happens to be a poet. There are several teachers. An ex-policewoman. The fact that such professions are present tell me her fawning over them is an obvious, though subtle, ongoing effort to garner donations for this project.
There are also few sycophants, and "exotics" as well, originally from the leader's classes I suppose. Unlike myself, they were introduced. I can't help but think perhaps the leader likes to collect such about herself to make her feel as though this venture is somehow a genuine one.
It is no wonder this leader can't seem to remember my name. I am neither rich, nor an exotic foreigner. I am certainly not a synchophant. I do not fit into any neat, plastic, category. I suppose that to her, I am not worth the effort to even see past her ridiculous obsession with keeping the California desert pristine.
Perhaps producing my own project like I originally planned is the best course of action after all. Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Friday, December 10, 2010
Inlandia workshop 120910
Final meeting for 2010, and I left early due to far too much time wasting on part of the project leader.
For those not in the know, she has this annoying habit of using the venue as a place to lecture about environmental issues of the Southern California desert, and very much has this political - religous slant she seems to expect everyone present to agree with. Added to that, she wished to, I don't know, "pound her own drums" as to just how damned important she was; I think it was because of some new visitors we had-- one of which was an editor for "the Mosaic", the literary publication of UCR.
Got on my nerves. Anyhow:
Prompt--
Write about a positive thing that happened to you in the past week
--
Artwalk. Getting back into my visual groove seeing all the mishmash crashed barrels of new possibilities, reminding me that back by my refrigerator is that damn unfinished twined skull painting, still looking at me.
Prompt--
She had twenty seven names for tears..
The number twenty seven, made up of two and seven, added together makes nine. To me that meant she was on the edge.. Just about to fall into some disaster if she was left to her own devices. So I kept her company, watching, cheering her.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
For those not in the know, she has this annoying habit of using the venue as a place to lecture about environmental issues of the Southern California desert, and very much has this political - religous slant she seems to expect everyone present to agree with. Added to that, she wished to, I don't know, "pound her own drums" as to just how damned important she was; I think it was because of some new visitors we had-- one of which was an editor for "the Mosaic", the literary publication of UCR.
Got on my nerves. Anyhow:
Prompt--
Write about a positive thing that happened to you in the past week
--
Artwalk. Getting back into my visual groove seeing all the mishmash crashed barrels of new possibilities, reminding me that back by my refrigerator is that damn unfinished twined skull painting, still looking at me.
Prompt--
She had twenty seven names for tears..
The number twenty seven, made up of two and seven, added together makes nine. To me that meant she was on the edge.. Just about to fall into some disaster if she was left to her own devices. So I kept her company, watching, cheering her.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Inlandia Workshop 111810
Prompt--
Journalism style: write about your day.
----oooo----
There was a noise. I know it was a noise.
I opened my eyes to sunlight, and groaned. I got up to the endless popping noise in the corner, and tended the seven young quail I kept in the three clear totes. All brown feathered now, they looked at me without fear as I gave them more food and ample water. Soon after, they quietened down, just pecking the plastic instead of flapping straight up at the white lid. That crashing bam sound is likely what woke me..
I went outside.
The sun shined brighter still on the sidewalk. I glanced at the plants of my garden, and noting the quality of the leaves, decided they needed no water. I then reached inside the clear plastic bag I kept on my stove and withdrew a bit of the fish pellets. Two of them went to the small blue bucket filled with water below the box of tomatoes; the rest to the bigger pond with the ivy in the black basket pot.
No fish were floating on top in either water feature, so I decided that they were still hiding from view. I did see some tiny guppies under the ivy.
I went back inside and changed into something that wasn't sweats, and grabbed my keys, wallet and phone. Intending on going to the store. The time on the clock in dash read 930. It was 3 hours too soon to buy or drop off the cat food at my parent's place.
'After two days without the poor critter will think he's starving'. I sighed, and turned the key anyway. 'Damn birds...where to breakfast.' I said.
---OOOOO----
Prompt--
Fond baking memory.
----ooooo----
Like Magic. It was there in an email. There was no way it was this easy.
She well remembered all the healthy snacks mother made instead of the usual sweets of childhood. Stuffed tomatoes. Stuffed celery. Carrots. Even toast and cheese. Never. Ever. A single cake.
She cackled evilly, sounding much like a mad scientist, as she stirred the measured mixture of coco, flour, a bit something from a red can. She reached for an egg, poured some oil. Then skipped to the freezer, the ONLY PLACE ONE CAN KEEP CHOCOLATE!!! in ant infested Riverside.
Oh.. Sugar. Yes need lots of that. She spooned the bit in and stirred. Then took out a coffee mug.. The only coffee mug, and transferred the brown mixture in. Three minutes in the microwave later, she then took the mug out of the microwave.
It worked!! It worked Ha ha! Heck with the weird diets of mom! I can have chocolate cake whenever I want!!
-----ooooo----
Prompt---
A thanksgiving story.
-----ooooo----
She looked in the hole, barely a crack really, dug beneath the chicken coop. She stretched her hand out as she squatted in the dust. In her hand: a single piece of lettuce.
The ancient thing, looking like a large down-turned bowl, sat unmoved in hallow.
"Come on Grumpy. Aren't you hungry?" She called.
"Leave him alone, he'll come out if he's hungry."
"He didn't yesterday. I just want to see him."
The girl dropped the lettuce to the ground and took a few steps back. Patience wasn't an easy thing for a nine year old.
"Maybe he's sleeping. They do that you know."
"Maybe he's sick."
"He's not sick." Her cousin said.
"Hey..he's moving."
As she watched the shadows, out poked an ancient, scaled head that appeared to be frowning, as if distinctly displeased with the world. It tilted its head, then slowly, ever so slowly, lowered it to the discarded leaves.
"See.. He's fine."
As she watched, it flicked out a bit of tongue, and took a great snapping bite of the offering. It did this over and over. Utterly unhurried. Munching until the greens were gone.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Journalism style: write about your day.
----oooo----
There was a noise. I know it was a noise.
I opened my eyes to sunlight, and groaned. I got up to the endless popping noise in the corner, and tended the seven young quail I kept in the three clear totes. All brown feathered now, they looked at me without fear as I gave them more food and ample water. Soon after, they quietened down, just pecking the plastic instead of flapping straight up at the white lid. That crashing bam sound is likely what woke me..
I went outside.
The sun shined brighter still on the sidewalk. I glanced at the plants of my garden, and noting the quality of the leaves, decided they needed no water. I then reached inside the clear plastic bag I kept on my stove and withdrew a bit of the fish pellets. Two of them went to the small blue bucket filled with water below the box of tomatoes; the rest to the bigger pond with the ivy in the black basket pot.
No fish were floating on top in either water feature, so I decided that they were still hiding from view. I did see some tiny guppies under the ivy.
I went back inside and changed into something that wasn't sweats, and grabbed my keys, wallet and phone. Intending on going to the store. The time on the clock in dash read 930. It was 3 hours too soon to buy or drop off the cat food at my parent's place.
'After two days without the poor critter will think he's starving'. I sighed, and turned the key anyway. 'Damn birds...where to breakfast.' I said.
---OOOOO----
Prompt--
Fond baking memory.
----ooooo----
Like Magic. It was there in an email. There was no way it was this easy.
She well remembered all the healthy snacks mother made instead of the usual sweets of childhood. Stuffed tomatoes. Stuffed celery. Carrots. Even toast and cheese. Never. Ever. A single cake.
She cackled evilly, sounding much like a mad scientist, as she stirred the measured mixture of coco, flour, a bit something from a red can. She reached for an egg, poured some oil. Then skipped to the freezer, the ONLY PLACE ONE CAN KEEP CHOCOLATE!!! in ant infested Riverside.
Oh.. Sugar. Yes need lots of that. She spooned the bit in and stirred. Then took out a coffee mug.. The only coffee mug, and transferred the brown mixture in. Three minutes in the microwave later, she then took the mug out of the microwave.
It worked!! It worked Ha ha! Heck with the weird diets of mom! I can have chocolate cake whenever I want!!
-----ooooo----
Prompt---
A thanksgiving story.
-----ooooo----
She looked in the hole, barely a crack really, dug beneath the chicken coop. She stretched her hand out as she squatted in the dust. In her hand: a single piece of lettuce.
The ancient thing, looking like a large down-turned bowl, sat unmoved in hallow.
"Come on Grumpy. Aren't you hungry?" She called.
"Leave him alone, he'll come out if he's hungry."
"He didn't yesterday. I just want to see him."
The girl dropped the lettuce to the ground and took a few steps back. Patience wasn't an easy thing for a nine year old.
"Maybe he's sleeping. They do that you know."
"Maybe he's sick."
"He's not sick." Her cousin said.
"Hey..he's moving."
As she watched the shadows, out poked an ancient, scaled head that appeared to be frowning, as if distinctly displeased with the world. It tilted its head, then slowly, ever so slowly, lowered it to the discarded leaves.
"See.. He's fine."
As she watched, it flicked out a bit of tongue, and took a great snapping bite of the offering. It did this over and over. Utterly unhurried. Munching until the greens were gone.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Friday, November 5, 2010
...Continuing with character drabble...
The unnamed corpse weighing heavily on his mind, he trudged his way back to the compound. He saw many hopeful eyes drifting towards him, from the restless children squatting in the dust, and hurriedly looked away.
He rushed past familiar rusted doors, long since frozen in place by ancient decay. They stood agape at the shadowy mouth of what amounted to a great metal box.
It was one of a dozen or so, stacked and scattered about, forming an enclosing circle that had served as both prison and home for the past month for both him and his people; Their many wagons, few beasts, and awaiting trade possessions placed protectively by mutual consent in the dusty center.
As his eyes adusted to the darkness, he heard the children joyfully calling out, high voices nearly singing, "He's back! He's back!"
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
He rushed past familiar rusted doors, long since frozen in place by ancient decay. They stood agape at the shadowy mouth of what amounted to a great metal box.
It was one of a dozen or so, stacked and scattered about, forming an enclosing circle that had served as both prison and home for the past month for both him and his people; Their many wagons, few beasts, and awaiting trade possessions placed protectively by mutual consent in the dusty center.
As his eyes adusted to the darkness, he heard the children joyfully calling out, high voices nearly singing, "He's back! He's back!"
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Inlandia Institute Workshop 11-04-10
Prompt--
A time when you remembered your sense of humor.
---
At first pattering of rain that splashed against the window, I arrived to work. Relieving the watchman of his duties, I read the passdown log of the events that I had missed from the previous day, my mind filled with hope that I could avoid calling the clerk for any truck; she and I had mutually agreed we did not like one another since the day I started.
Then, I noticed the piles paper, with the stickit notes slapped on top. All demanding that the be redone for one reason or another. They were all work done by me, and only by me for the previous two weeks.
I was singled out as inadequate, though I well know the entire thing was laughable. One can never be an inadequate security guard, unless one had been caught. Caught, mind you, sleeping while on post.
It did not take long to remember why such occurrence had graced me that night. The previous night was Halloween, and I had refused to come in early as I wished to enjoy the night.
Apparently I had angered the newest post commander with a god complex, and he had to come in early instead.
Then a truck came in. And I snickered at it all. Thinking, what a stupid job I had. I picked up the phone and began the unpleasantness of the day; working in a little metal box during a thunderstorm for minimum wage.
Another day in paradise.
---
Prompt-- a messed up culinary experience.
--
I was really looking forward to enjoying all that 64 ounces of total caffeine sugar ice cubes swimming in a truly sweet brownish bubbly fountain of happiness.
Instead.
the diet impostor soon flew out the window and splashed the pavement.
----
Prompt -- dog point of view
---
I smell it. Way up there where I can't reach. She tells me no, and so I wait. I reach up into her lap, nuzzle her hand. She pushes me away and down. Man I'm bored.
---
Prompt -- mission inn picture
---
He stood and looked down at the woman, and received the medal she offered from her outstretched hand. Then glanced up at the sudden flash of light.
The camera moved off and he glared down at his reward. He found himself somehow disappointed. He had won the race and found the simple contest was far too easy a victory. But now that it was over, what was to happen now? Would the loser, always a proud man, kick him out of his company for the humiliation of proving his boast wrong?
He looked over at the greying man as he too received his token from the woman, smug face set in an expression of superiority.
"Come," The man said. "Drinks, as it were, are on me."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
A time when you remembered your sense of humor.
---
At first pattering of rain that splashed against the window, I arrived to work. Relieving the watchman of his duties, I read the passdown log of the events that I had missed from the previous day, my mind filled with hope that I could avoid calling the clerk for any truck; she and I had mutually agreed we did not like one another since the day I started.
Then, I noticed the piles paper, with the stickit notes slapped on top. All demanding that the be redone for one reason or another. They were all work done by me, and only by me for the previous two weeks.
I was singled out as inadequate, though I well know the entire thing was laughable. One can never be an inadequate security guard, unless one had been caught. Caught, mind you, sleeping while on post.
It did not take long to remember why such occurrence had graced me that night. The previous night was Halloween, and I had refused to come in early as I wished to enjoy the night.
Apparently I had angered the newest post commander with a god complex, and he had to come in early instead.
Then a truck came in. And I snickered at it all. Thinking, what a stupid job I had. I picked up the phone and began the unpleasantness of the day; working in a little metal box during a thunderstorm for minimum wage.
Another day in paradise.
---
Prompt-- a messed up culinary experience.
--
I was really looking forward to enjoying all that 64 ounces of total caffeine sugar ice cubes swimming in a truly sweet brownish bubbly fountain of happiness.
Instead.
the diet impostor soon flew out the window and splashed the pavement.
----
Prompt -- dog point of view
---
I smell it. Way up there where I can't reach. She tells me no, and so I wait. I reach up into her lap, nuzzle her hand. She pushes me away and down. Man I'm bored.
---
Prompt -- mission inn picture
---
He stood and looked down at the woman, and received the medal she offered from her outstretched hand. Then glanced up at the sudden flash of light.
The camera moved off and he glared down at his reward. He found himself somehow disappointed. He had won the race and found the simple contest was far too easy a victory. But now that it was over, what was to happen now? Would the loser, always a proud man, kick him out of his company for the humiliation of proving his boast wrong?
He looked over at the greying man as he too received his token from the woman, smug face set in an expression of superiority.
"Come," The man said. "Drinks, as it were, are on me."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
Friday, October 29, 2010
Overgrown character drabble.
It was most definitely a grisly site that painted the pale soil a rusty red. He wrinkled his nose at the stench as he looked it over, then squatted down and leaned his elbows onto his knees, careful. Very careful not to touch a thing.
"Well?" Called out voice, sharp in its impatience.
"Well what? Just got here." He replied evenly. He narrowed his eyes, then tilted his head slightly as he continued his examination of the bloody heap before him.
Black swarms of flies buzzed their way through the air, clearing from a misshapen, and reddish lump. He heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a the retching sound of a sick of the one far behind him.
"I. I just want it gone."
"Uh-huh." He said in noncommitedly. "Will be as soon as we find out who it is."
"What? I. I thought it was a..I dunno.. Sheep or.."
"Well it's not." He said as he rose to his feet. "Human. Least it used to be. That part there with the..?"
He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the well dressed man, the representative of his benefactor. Pale face scrunched in his distress, bent over his knees with his nose pointedly stuffed into the crook of his velvet draped arm. Glad of his own hard earned toughened guts, he decided to change what he was going to say, softening the hard facts before him.
"..looks to once've been a goat. A mighty big 'un."
"You mean to tell me it's a.." The man's muffled voice started...as if horrified by some notion. "It's a..a..ver.."
He knew this line of thought, as was very prevalent to those who carved meger living staying amongst the ruins of what came before. Vermen. Supposedly a mix of a man and something else.Really nothing more than phantom to be feared -- often invoked by exaperated elders to bring errant children into line.
Not wanting to indulge the frilly thin man's ridiculous, wild imaginings, he snapped.
"I just told you what it is! As for how?" He shrugged, and slipped his hands into his coat pockets as he strode away from the mess. "Likely a grizzly come down from the hill." He saw the man's eyes widen in alarm. He then added more sharply than he knew he should have as he passed near the man. "Not a name to be concerned with. Just a BEAR."
"A bear." The frilly man repeated darkly, then oddly added, as if the animal were a capable villain. " A mere bear can dare. Do ..t-this? Here?!?"
He took a deep steadying breath against the impending lunacy, and prompted. "Your hospitality is welcomed, however, my people will wish to trade as soon as possible. When, exactly, I can expect to see his excellency..?"
"Oh... Um." The frilly man interrupted, stammering. "I shall let him know of your request as soon as. This. Is thoroughly disposed of."
He frowned as he glared at the man. "I'm not from here. You can't seriously expect me to..I told you this is a human being.. don't know..."
"Do. Your fair service for his excellency." The frilly man said with a wave as lifted his head high. "Not one tick sooner will the audience be granted. Until then, your.. People.. Shall have to continue their wait in our ..comfortable.. accommodations."
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"Well?" Called out voice, sharp in its impatience.
"Well what? Just got here." He replied evenly. He narrowed his eyes, then tilted his head slightly as he continued his examination of the bloody heap before him.
Black swarms of flies buzzed their way through the air, clearing from a misshapen, and reddish lump. He heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a the retching sound of a sick of the one far behind him.
"I. I just want it gone."
"Uh-huh." He said in noncommitedly. "Will be as soon as we find out who it is."
"What? I. I thought it was a..I dunno.. Sheep or.."
"Well it's not." He said as he rose to his feet. "Human. Least it used to be. That part there with the..?"
He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the well dressed man, the representative of his benefactor. Pale face scrunched in his distress, bent over his knees with his nose pointedly stuffed into the crook of his velvet draped arm. Glad of his own hard earned toughened guts, he decided to change what he was going to say, softening the hard facts before him.
"..looks to once've been a goat. A mighty big 'un."
"You mean to tell me it's a.." The man's muffled voice started...as if horrified by some notion. "It's a..a..ver.."
He knew this line of thought, as was very prevalent to those who carved meger living staying amongst the ruins of what came before. Vermen. Supposedly a mix of a man and something else.Really nothing more than phantom to be feared -- often invoked by exaperated elders to bring errant children into line.
Not wanting to indulge the frilly thin man's ridiculous, wild imaginings, he snapped.
"I just told you what it is! As for how?" He shrugged, and slipped his hands into his coat pockets as he strode away from the mess. "Likely a grizzly come down from the hill." He saw the man's eyes widen in alarm. He then added more sharply than he knew he should have as he passed near the man. "Not a name to be concerned with. Just a BEAR."
"A bear." The frilly man repeated darkly, then oddly added, as if the animal were a capable villain. " A mere bear can dare. Do ..t-this? Here?!?"
He took a deep steadying breath against the impending lunacy, and prompted. "Your hospitality is welcomed, however, my people will wish to trade as soon as possible. When, exactly, I can expect to see his excellency..?"
"Oh... Um." The frilly man interrupted, stammering. "I shall let him know of your request as soon as. This. Is thoroughly disposed of."
He frowned as he glared at the man. "I'm not from here. You can't seriously expect me to..I told you this is a human being.. don't know..."
"Do. Your fair service for his excellency." The frilly man said with a wave as lifted his head high. "Not one tick sooner will the audience be granted. Until then, your.. People.. Shall have to continue their wait in our ..comfortable.. accommodations."
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Thursday, October 28, 2010
Inlandia Workshop 10.28.10
Inlandia Workshop.
If you were to take a spiritual journey, where would you go.
-----
Laws are being considered to outlaw it. A humble garden based on aquaponics. But still I continue on my way, regardless of the cries of nags in the distant halls. It uses less water than they always assume, and is truly home to more than myself.
It is a small place, my sanctuary. Here, I am always reminded of my humble place in the world.
I cultivate the sun and let the pooled water babble beside me. Stubborn life thrives in a nearly lifeless place because of my efforts, and dies because of my mistakes. I never need to go far to feel a part of things bigger than myself, which is how it should be.
---break--
Where does your writing start.
----
My voice my take Crash bang god gotta put something down. Maybe it will make sense maybe it won't.
---break--
This Frank Miller is certainly NOT the Frank Miller of comic book fame, though that in itself would be interesting if it were.
Super duper macho dude that worships at the alter of all things extreme testosterone running a simple inn. Ha! Like that would happen. Lots of explosions battles and blood. Think the movie "The 500".
Need a crowbar to hook it under, pry both of those personalities apart.
Looking at the ancient photos, I realise I know nothing about where I grew up at all. The Inn is obviously central to so many things built here. Connected in a way that I had never considered. Things I've passed by or driven over an never questioned. I just assumed it the quirks of someone with far too much money and too little imagination.
Now.
I have many questions tickling my brain, and I am not entirely sure of where to begin. Maybe I should just toss the whole shebang out the window. History smishtory.
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If you were to take a spiritual journey, where would you go.
-----
Laws are being considered to outlaw it. A humble garden based on aquaponics. But still I continue on my way, regardless of the cries of nags in the distant halls. It uses less water than they always assume, and is truly home to more than myself.
It is a small place, my sanctuary. Here, I am always reminded of my humble place in the world.
I cultivate the sun and let the pooled water babble beside me. Stubborn life thrives in a nearly lifeless place because of my efforts, and dies because of my mistakes. I never need to go far to feel a part of things bigger than myself, which is how it should be.
---break--
Where does your writing start.
----
My voice my take Crash bang god gotta put something down. Maybe it will make sense maybe it won't.
---break--
This Frank Miller is certainly NOT the Frank Miller of comic book fame, though that in itself would be interesting if it were.
Super duper macho dude that worships at the alter of all things extreme testosterone running a simple inn. Ha! Like that would happen. Lots of explosions battles and blood. Think the movie "The 500".
Need a crowbar to hook it under, pry both of those personalities apart.
Looking at the ancient photos, I realise I know nothing about where I grew up at all. The Inn is obviously central to so many things built here. Connected in a way that I had never considered. Things I've passed by or driven over an never questioned. I just assumed it the quirks of someone with far too much money and too little imagination.
Now.
I have many questions tickling my brain, and I am not entirely sure of where to begin. Maybe I should just toss the whole shebang out the window. History smishtory.
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Friday, October 22, 2010
Character notes.
Not entirely sure if I should post character notes or not. So a drabble will have to do.---
Dangerously thin, dark of hair, eye and skin, the distant inn is all she cares to remember as her mind rambled and misbehaved.
Huge and looming; the ancient beast hid behind a series of adobe arches covered with ivy, kissing the pavement of the road before her. As she stared, she knew she wasn't ready just yet for the task she had set out to do.
Instead, weary from the long walk, she hugged her knees in the concealling shadows of the broken alley. She heard their calling quite clearly; There was no doubt that they now thought that it was theirs. She knew she should seek someplace safe for a precious few hours from the others: the ones that must be avoided; The mean ones that wanted her on the Inside.
Largely ignored by the all fancy ones that glided about the painted surface of the black, she watched and listened; shining eyes wide and alive set in a face like carved stone.
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Dangerously thin, dark of hair, eye and skin, the distant inn is all she cares to remember as her mind rambled and misbehaved.
Huge and looming; the ancient beast hid behind a series of adobe arches covered with ivy, kissing the pavement of the road before her. As she stared, she knew she wasn't ready just yet for the task she had set out to do.
Instead, weary from the long walk, she hugged her knees in the concealling shadows of the broken alley. She heard their calling quite clearly; There was no doubt that they now thought that it was theirs. She knew she should seek someplace safe for a precious few hours from the others: the ones that must be avoided; The mean ones that wanted her on the Inside.
Largely ignored by the all fancy ones that glided about the painted surface of the black, she watched and listened; shining eyes wide and alive set in a face like carved stone.
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Friday, October 15, 2010
Inlandia Institute Workshop-- October 14 2010
Posting this raw because I believe in the creative process.. and it is raw as well as ugly.
Prompt--
I could have married that liar, but I didn't, because his words were quite cheap and poorly constructed; however, the drink he ordered for me was sweet. It truely did make the room spin. I barely remember that we did have a good time, but by morning, decision made, I left him alone with my head held high.
Prompt--
personal ad(Too close to home.)
Golddiggers need not apply. Looking for companionship and a partner for life, and putting something like this on the printed page is near impossible. No stalkers, or I get a partularly large and vicious dog to name Bubba just for you.
--break--
I know that posting our ads from this exercise onto craigslist won't really do any harm, and could draw attention to this workshop of hers, however, for some reason, it feels wrong.
Actually, I lie. I do know what's wrong. I think it was "the leader's" whole "freak the mundanes" mentality, and attitude that I have never liked.
The leader would probably explain it away as she was merely being playful.I have participated in art projects, and I know what she's doing. It is a college level exercise that I am participaing in, and there is something about the whole college thing that doesn't quite sit right with me.
The superior attitute which says, "I'm smarter than you so there!" to anyone who does not happen to share the accepted, liberal, "college" point of view of life. It's an attitude I find ultimately selfish and highly irresponsible. It resulted in the failure that is "women's liberation", which gave us weak males which now dwell in their mother's basements until their forties instead of supporting families; and girls which whore their bodies on the internet as soon as they arrive a puberty; and children literally sold into the slavery of ongoing sexual abuse so that their so called liberated mothers could enjoy the company of any available males.
That is no liberation. That is a lie. And that is why I rejected it long ago and explored more "conservative" ways. (Ah.. The liberation of canning one's own labors for one's own consumption.)
_______
Prompt--
everybody is addicted something, the love letter.
I could loose myself in this, where everything makes sense. I suppose that it has a name, for I have heard of something called "zero point", where everything is connected. I find it when I search my canvas and strive to reveal the thing that I see, that is when I am connected to everything. The canvas itself is not important, as it can be anything, really.
One time it was simply the stupid hole I was digging, angrily mostly, because I could find no one to help me. The soil was hardened clay and I had to swing a pick ax. For a garden.
Today it was laying bricks.
_____
100 bucksGreen peppersCucNo tomatoes, got too many already--need to can em or eat em!!Chili MinstronePastaPasta PastaCheeseCheese cheeseApplesOh yeah-- Veggie soup in a canPotatoesMaybe they have coriander- nopeSettle for Parsley- member to plant itBread, yep- cause I lazyChicken or fish? ____
Prompt--
I could have married that liar, but I didn't, because his words were quite cheap and poorly constructed; however, the drink he ordered for me was sweet. It truely did make the room spin. I barely remember that we did have a good time, but by morning, decision made, I left him alone with my head held high.
Prompt--
personal ad(Too close to home.)
Golddiggers need not apply. Looking for companionship and a partner for life, and putting something like this on the printed page is near impossible. No stalkers, or I get a partularly large and vicious dog to name Bubba just for you.
--break--
I know that posting our ads from this exercise onto craigslist won't really do any harm, and could draw attention to this workshop of hers, however, for some reason, it feels wrong.
Actually, I lie. I do know what's wrong. I think it was "the leader's" whole "freak the mundanes" mentality, and attitude that I have never liked.
The leader would probably explain it away as she was merely being playful.I have participated in art projects, and I know what she's doing. It is a college level exercise that I am participaing in, and there is something about the whole college thing that doesn't quite sit right with me.
The superior attitute which says, "I'm smarter than you so there!" to anyone who does not happen to share the accepted, liberal, "college" point of view of life. It's an attitude I find ultimately selfish and highly irresponsible. It resulted in the failure that is "women's liberation", which gave us weak males which now dwell in their mother's basements until their forties instead of supporting families; and girls which whore their bodies on the internet as soon as they arrive a puberty; and children literally sold into the slavery of ongoing sexual abuse so that their so called liberated mothers could enjoy the company of any available males.
That is no liberation. That is a lie. And that is why I rejected it long ago and explored more "conservative" ways. (Ah.. The liberation of canning one's own labors for one's own consumption.)
_______
Prompt--
everybody is addicted something, the love letter.
I could loose myself in this, where everything makes sense. I suppose that it has a name, for I have heard of something called "zero point", where everything is connected. I find it when I search my canvas and strive to reveal the thing that I see, that is when I am connected to everything. The canvas itself is not important, as it can be anything, really.
One time it was simply the stupid hole I was digging, angrily mostly, because I could find no one to help me. The soil was hardened clay and I had to swing a pick ax. For a garden.
Today it was laying bricks.
_____
100 bucksGreen peppersCucNo tomatoes, got too many already--need to can em or eat em!!Chili MinstronePastaPasta PastaCheeseCheese cheeseApplesOh yeah-- Veggie soup in a canPotatoesMaybe they have coriander- nopeSettle for Parsley- member to plant itBread, yep- cause I lazyChicken or fish? ____
Inlandia Institute Meeting September 30
This is a kind of note thing that I took while participating in the Inlandia workshop. I trust in the creative process, and this is entirely why I'm choosing to post this at all. It's raw. It's ugly.
It is.
Personal goal-
What you want to accomplish in workshop
New projectMission inn - incorperate in writing-
ghost walk
Persona?-- year timeline.
Dr. Horrible sing along blog
.---break---
Who am I?
I am my own bundle of contradictions.I am sister. I am lover. I am daughter. I am friend.I am also worker- the most limiting of my parts that I constantly strive to knit together.I am called an artist, and though I find the word is far too limiting for who I am, it seems to satify most.I am the one who breaks the fear of the blank page-
too many too few imagery lettered ideas that have no sense or much meaning to anyone else. I sculpt meaning out of chaos, most of which I freely create.
--break--
Inland empire
Back roads little more than trails made of mud flowing over kindling hills, ever eyed eagerly for development-- whatever that means. The summer heat melting commerials signs promising paradise just a block over from your own house, which is far more oridinary with your favorite dog buried under your tree.
---break--
-Bring in a piece to share if you're working on one. To have it critiqued and workshopped.Memory of the mission inn? First impression of the mission inn. Story heard about it.
It is.
Personal goal-
What you want to accomplish in workshop
New projectMission inn - incorperate in writing-
ghost walk
Persona?-- year timeline.
Dr. Horrible sing along blog
.---break---
Who am I?
I am my own bundle of contradictions.I am sister. I am lover. I am daughter. I am friend.I am also worker- the most limiting of my parts that I constantly strive to knit together.I am called an artist, and though I find the word is far too limiting for who I am, it seems to satify most.I am the one who breaks the fear of the blank page-
too many too few imagery lettered ideas that have no sense or much meaning to anyone else. I sculpt meaning out of chaos, most of which I freely create.
--break--
Inland empire
Back roads little more than trails made of mud flowing over kindling hills, ever eyed eagerly for development-- whatever that means. The summer heat melting commerials signs promising paradise just a block over from your own house, which is far more oridinary with your favorite dog buried under your tree.
---break--
-Bring in a piece to share if you're working on one. To have it critiqued and workshopped.Memory of the mission inn? First impression of the mission inn. Story heard about it.
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