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Karma Free Writing will be offering 27 Days of Karma Free Writing Prompts starting on the 1st day of Spring. These writing prompts are designed to stimulate the creative process for writing your personal story - and beyond.
27 Day Karma Free Writing Prompts - Honorarium
The 1st 14 days are free. To go the whole 27 days there is a $27 honorarium.
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2010
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March
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- DAY #12. THEME: "REVISIT"
- Day #11 - Theme: "For me? You shouldn't have!"
- Day #10. Theme: "Turning Points"
- Day #9 - Theme: "Body Parts Know"
- Day #8. Theme: "I am HEALED!!"
- Day #7 - Theme: "Fun or Fear"
- Day #6. "Buying a pair of shoes."
- Day #5. "That Part Of My Live Is Over Now."
- Day #4. "That which is no longer."
- Day #3. "My Whole Life Was About To Change - I jus...
- Day #2. "Should of, would of, could of ... IF ONLY"
- "Prompt #1 - Things my parents taught me"
- KFWB - 27 Day Writing prompts - Intro
- Tomorrow We Start !!
- Almost there !! Two More Days !!!
- 5 More Days until the 27 Day Karma Free Writing Pr...
- One Week - Saturday March 20th 2010 - The 1st Day ...
- 27 Day "Karma Free" Writing Program set to start M...
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March
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About Me
Joe made his decision, telling Gary, “I think this is the one.” Gary said, “It’s a good choice and really nice guitar. Taylor is a good company. I know she’ll be happy with it. And if she’s not, tell her to bring it in and we’ll find her something else.”
ReplyDelete“Okay, thanks,” said Joe as he paid for me and then carried me out the door to his car where I stayed in his trunk for a few days. I’m not thrilled about being left in the case too long. I’m claustrophobic. But when he pulled me out of the trunk and carried me with purpose, I could tell this was the day I would be introduced to my new owner. You saw him walking through the front gate at your Venice Beach home and smiled. I could see that you were smiling, even from inside the case. Well, I could feel it anyway! And you unzipped my case and pulled me out gingerly. I loved the way you admired me. You stroked me, exclaiming how beautiful my wood was. You placed your fingers carefully on the strings forming a D chord and you picked a sweet melody, alternating between C, D and G, adding an A here and there. Your fingers moved across my strings nimbly, as if they were familiar with me, as if they knew me. I loved your touch, your gentleness, your reverence. I loved your songs, your fingers, your admiration. I loved you. I knew I would be happy in my new home. I knew I would be cared for and played often. I knew I would be able to help you create some lovely music and assist you in your songwriting. I knew I wasn’t your first, but that didn’t matter to me. You were so happy to have a guitar again. You had a Big Baby and you have nurtured me for the past 12 years. We have written some beautiful songs together, and I have enjoyed every moment with you.
Good thing we’re not allergic to dust, eh Kermit?
ReplyDeleteYea, Animal, I know she loves us – I mean look at the great view we get of not only her living room, but also that fabulous back yard – just wish she’d brush us off a little more often. Do you realize no one else in the house gets as great a vantage point?
Well, Bali dragon over there does a good job of watching over the front door, but she doesn’t look at him, or smile at him like she does us.
Remember that first day she met us, she beamed then too. Stopped the class and sat us right up front, looking over everyone in the room. That was great, though I was a little sad to leave everyone at Hanson Productions behind.
Do you ever miss Piggy?
Ah yes, Piggy and I had quite the run, as did you with the rest of the band. But it’s okay, there are thousands more of our clones who do a great job in our place. It’s fun living here with Debra. Do you remember when she used to throw parties? She didn’t see all the guests, but we did.
I’m glad she does a better, more conscious job of keeping the house clean, well, spiritually clean anyway, if only she’d dust up here.
You know, even though we were a surprise for her, I think she loves us as much as the Buddha from her grandma and grandpa – though he gets to hold the rotating items she wants to bless and honor. All we hold is this sully bunch of fake flowers, but they are a great shade of fuchsia.
Hey, you’re forgetting this comfy seat she gave us last year, now we don’t have to sit on the bookcase anymore.
True, I guess we are the only collectable…
YUCK, I don’t like that term. How about honored inanimate guest?
Yes, much more fitting. So what was I saying? Oh yea, we’re the only ones with a throne, everyone else sits directly on the furniture.
I guess we are in the revered category.
Her inner kid sure thinks so.
Can't remember the reasoning
ReplyDeleteThe lectures were constant reminders
and often
The drone started
A burst of anger,
fiery spits
"How much I do for you
Have you any idea of what I do for you
NO-one, No human
will ever do for you
What I have done for you."
The drone got louder
Bombs, missiles, shrapnel
I drift away, to that place
where I know to go
Sometime later, I look at my imaginary watch
Wow!!! at least half an hour has past
He is still pacing - spitting fuel
in my direction
Not quite time yet
I disappear, once again
To that place ....
About an hour later
The drone starts to quieten
Perhaps, no more ammunition??
I look up - as he wipes watered eyes
and blurry glasses
I feel his pain
I nod - I agree - message delivered
I look at the door knob
My hand reaches out
you can probably tell I'm on assignment in the South this week. I get so influenced by by environment.
ReplyDelete******************************************
Y'all shipping me where? Hey this is Big Marvin here. After mess'n with the engineers and those carpenter types I thought I was destined to be famous. Be with those movie stars in Malibu or the old money people out in the Hamptons. Those mansions were calling to me.
But you sending me to some little Cape house on a marsh pond in Rhode Island? Where exactly is that at, Rhode Island? A star like me going to a podunky little place? Jeez, I'm almost as big as that little state.
But now I'm settling in. Boy these Yankees love me. Especially the missus. She just stands
in the morning, holding her coffee, looking at me. She is what we'd call 'mesmerized.'
Then all that company comes by and what happens when they walk in? Well it's all about me, of course.
They can't believe I could be so big, so "vast" as these folks say. Some others say I "cahn't" believe it, talking all fancy like they are British with the long 'a' sound.
Yes, sir I make magic, show'n off those mallets and geese and swans. I even helped them see their first bald eagle. That's right. If it weren't for me they wouldn't have seen the very thing that makes them feel so American.
I never expected to end up here. But they do adore me. Who knew that me, Marvin the big, big window, would be so loved and constantly adored by ordinary folks? That's the luck of a pretty boy.
Oh I'm not on top of my game, I'm amazed and a little green with envy at the charming stories shared today! But, here's a lil riff.
ReplyDelete____
These particular blue earrings were bundled into a “Happy Bag” – terminology that shopkeepers in Tokyo use. A special New Year’s promotion, but they were not cheap. They were certainly a bargain. Two cashmere sweaters, plus a set of earrings for the price of one sweater.
They make me look like Angelina Jolie. Those infamous green sapphire earrings she wore to the Oscar’s with nothing else but a black dress. Well, at least I feel like I do.
Isn’t that the purpose of jewelry? Accentuate a woman’s beauty, but more importantly confidence level. Sparkle of jewelry brings a sparkle to the eyes! Honestly, I hate jewelry normally. I’m too impractical to keep track of it and take proper care. But these I loved.
The velveteen bag that they came in were decorated with golden letters: D2. Oh my! Could it be? I had traveled around the globe to Tokyo just to fall in love with jewels designed at a favorite shop of mine in Davis Square, Somerville. The neighborhood and zip code right to mine in Harvard Square, Cambridge.
I was a little bit shocked. Perhaps there was a mistake? I thought I’d find something “exotic” like Care Bear watches instead. Or a Geisha silhouette poster. But, fake earrings from back home?
The stories we shared – my uncle’s new wife, who was meticulously trained to color coordinate according to skin tone and shades of cashmere wool. The translations my father had to convey. But the sparkle in our eyes was not lost in translation.
This is my cell phone. I am not in my home. I am not in my room in my home. I am reading your prompt on my fucking cell phone in some stupid fucking “concept” fucking café-restaurant that is so fucking pretentious and pseudo fucking organic at the corner of Pine and fucking Front Street in San Fran fucking Cisco. And I am not taking photographs, nor am I in the mountains, nor am I making my website, nor am I building my business, but I am waiting for a stupid fucking date to fucking show the fuck up. From fucking match dot fucking com and I fucking hate it. I just deactivated the fuck out of my fucking profile. Fucking games. Can I meet someone that doesn’t know how to say “ I don’t like xxxx’, or ‘I hate xxxx’ or ‘ I wouldn’t do xxxx it’s too xxxxx’. I hate the fuck out of fucking haters!. The world is full of hating fucking bitches and I fucking hate it! I think if someone tells me they don’t like something or don’t think they would like something I think I am fucking going to smack them.
ReplyDeleteSo what do you think about that? You stupid fucking Palm fucking Pre???
I love you by the way.
I love your little camera. So much so I am selling my camera with the Leica lens and the snazzy leather case. Because I delight in your pictures. They are snaps, and that is what I want from you. I don’t have to drag my 4 x 5 out of the closet, inspect the bellows, expose a Polaroid, adjust the exposure, the tilt and shift, press my nose against the ground glass and my eye against the loupe inspecting focus on every square millimeter of the upside down and back to front image while sweating under a black cloth. I just wave you around, and click! I post you straight to my Facebook page. And I love you for all the images of my eighteen month old granddaughter, and the skiing trip out the back gate of Sugar Bowl and half way to Squaw; carving virgin powder.
You massage my ego.
You complete me.
God I wish you had tits.
If you were a woman I would be your slave. You never tell me you hate anything. You never tell me you wouldn’t like this or that. You come everywhere with me. You even sit in the hot tub with me (inside a ziplock bag).
You are never slow. Never late. You never go to the bathroom when it is time to go, instead of twenty minutes before it is time to go.
You are sleek, and stylish.
You are a sweet symphony of tempered glass and plastic.
You keep me connected.
Sensitive to my touch, You vibrate for me.
And best of all, when I need to be alone.
I can turn you off.
Teton died.
ReplyDeleteShe died the night my youngest had a friend over. I told his parents it looked as if she might not make it. They said, he'd be ok. He knew about life and death. I appreciated them for that.
The older slept in his bed. The two younger boys and I slept on the floor with Teton.
In the morning she was dead. She died sometime without us knowing.
Rigor mortis had set in.
I woke the older boy first. We sat on his bed, held each other and cried.
He's the one full of drama.
He stood and announced it was his duty and honor to dig the grave. He got dressed.
The younger boys woke.
Mine draped himself across Teton and weeped. His friend excused himself to the bathroom. A gentlemanly thing to do. So mature for such a young boy.
We wrapped her in one of our best red blankets. We all carried her to her grave and put the dirt on top.
We eulogized her. Even the guest. He said he didn't know her well but from what he saw from this family she must have been very special. I will always love him for that.
Time passed
We wanted another dog.
We'd always had dogs.
My husband liked cats.
We had a cat. We had Mingus. He was gorgeous. Big, grey, golden eyes. But he didn't need us. He reminded us every day how inferior we were to him. Everything was inferior to him.
We needed to be told we were better than we are. We were dog people. My husband was more secure in his existence.
Christmas break came.
Paws Match set up down by the bakery. Everyday they'd bring dogs that had been rescued.
We visited a white, brown and black border collie/corgi mix. She was beautiful. One eye blue, one brown. She was short...those stubby corgi legs. She was alert, as only a border collie can be. She was a little timid...maybe someone had been mean to her.
We talked about nothing else at dinner. Could she learn not to be timid? Would she play frisbee? What would she think of Mingus?
My husband groused.
We walked her every day. She was happy when we arrived.
It seemed she might overcome her shyness.
My husband groused.
I'm down at Paws Match. He called and woke me. It was Christmas break, we're all slugs and sleep a lot.
What are you doing there?
Maybe I'm being too negative. I'm looking at your little dog.
I threw on clothes and jumped on my bike.
I saw my husband walking down the street with a giant beast on a leash.
My husband beamed.
Isn't he beautiful? He's so sweet. He's gentle. His color...I've never seen color like this. Look how he walks on the leash. I wonder if he'd watch movies with us?
Amos is half neopolitian mastiff. He does not know he's large. At nine, if we're on his spot on the sofa, he sits on us. Nine is his bed time. He takes frequent naps. He eats electronics...television remote controls, ipods...shoes, wallets.
He loves us. He is our family.
Mingus left us for the college kids around the block. He is disgusted.
I wish we could comment under each person's entry. Thank you so much for writing these posts. You are making my days and i read so much of what you write to my boys. They are LOVING it!!!!
ReplyDeleteOk..the guitar...I loved the guitar. You capture the intimacy that guitar players and their guitars have...but from the guitar's perspective!
Lois, I'm not in the south, but I"ve lived there...you captured the voice!!!
The stuffed animals....I have them too! And I know they have similar conversations.
Caro...I want to see this poem in the New Yorker
Blood REd Roses....oh what we won't do for those earrings. The irony of being half way round the world to find what's in your backyard....it's Oz all over again!
Chris....I'm rolling on the floor!!!!! I can't wait to read your tale to my friend who just last night waxed on about her Palm Pre
Thank you, thank you thank you.
This is furniture.
ReplyDeleteI am content with how it looks and how it works.
I look forward to using it today.
I don’t know about tomorrow. I am trusting my furniture will be here.
It is furniture.
Am I writing about my furniture?
Yes.
That's a hilarious piece about your Palm fucking Pre, Chris! If you haven't sold your camera with the Leica lens yet, bring it to our gathering on April 19th!
ReplyDeleteYou may understand why I am so far behind in my writing and blogging after this...
ReplyDeleteI can still see you sitting there on the round glass table with the wrought iron legs beneath the windows, inviting me over to spend endless hours with you, mesmerizing, sometimes almost unconscious moments, enjoyable, tantalizing, procrastinating...
And, I still feel the shock, the surprise, no - no surprise - just the shock when you left, how you left so suddenly. I would have thought after all this time, you would have told me you were leaving.
When my key wouldn't open the door, no matter how I wiggled and jiggled it over and over again. "What's going on?" Walked around the back, it was so dark, no light out back there, here's the porch, the door, the knob, trying to fit the key in the dark, not easy, "Ah! at last" As I open the door...
"Wait, the rug is all askew, and what is all this water all over the table and the floor?" My red and white Caribbean vase lays on its side, my lucky bamboo is on the floor. Walking into the next room, "hmm...looks ok?"
"No, what is the cordless on the carpet with the battery ripped out and flung across the room?"
Then slowly, my gaze turned so slowly, so so slowly in such slow motion like everything barely moving, hardly breathing and I felt a lurch at my throat like someone was strangling me and I wanted to scream out, but nothing came, I just stood there and stared at my round glass table you loved to sit at looking out the windows, always patiently waiting for me to finish whatever silly stuff I needed to do, to get back to you and open you and look at all the years of photos, images of my everything I know and my family and friends, messages, and all the treasured information I didn't even know I needed to know...
I felt so badly, a strange sadness took over and then an anger I didn't even know I was capable of feeling, I wished terrible things for the person who climbed into my window and violated my humble home. How dare you! I want to slap you so hard across your face! And I feel so badly that you exist, someone's child who has grown to be capable of doing this? I want to feel sad for what your life is, but not yet, no I still want to slap your face over and over! And this thought makes me cry and I hate you making me cry! Hate Hate Hate you!!!
And now...
I am left wondering, "Where are you today." Are you suffering? Do you miss me? I hope wherever you are, you are treated well.