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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Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Day #19 - Theme: "Get the Picture?"

#19. Theme: "Get the Picture?"

See pics in post below.

Have Fun

:))
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13 comments:

  1. Chris SpurrellApril 6, 2010 at 10:15 PM

    So I've been writing.

    I write in my book, with my fountain pen. A beautiful Caran d'Ache.

    I use Herbin ink, just as Napoleon did. I do this to honor my writing.

    Writing is sacred. Writing is as sensual as sex or cooking.

    And then I replay it (sometimes). Laboriously. Word by word, from the tender strokes of my hand on the page, to the sterile glyphs that adorn this little blue-rimmed box on my screen.

    Writing is easy. Posting is hard.

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  2. JamesApril 6, 2010 at 10:37 PM

    I've been writing too and I tried an experiment -- I wrote my first ever prompt ON MY COMPUTER! I have always been a paper and ink guy and I must tell you I LIKED IT. I really did. Watch out Ann Randolf I may end up being on my computer next class!

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  3. JefferyApril 6, 2010 at 10:59 PM

    It was damn cold and the Devil wore green. “Step into the picture”, she said. I had never been so cold, so I stepped into the picture and onto the icy pavement of the deserted mobile station. “My trailer is just over there”, she said. “Truck broke down and the old Airstream is cold as Hell”. She closed one eye and looked at me with the other. She whispered, “Hell is cold, you know that don’t you”? “Yeah, you do. It’s Paradise that’s the hot one, common misconception about Hell being hot”. “It makes sense, don’t it”? “Hot is good”. “It’s places like this, where you can’t never warm up, that’s where I live”, she said. I knew the Devil was right, she always was. She could lie, but she wasn’t lying now. Hell was cold and I was freezing. She pointed toward the Airstream and I shivered.

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  4. Shame ShamanApril 7, 2010 at 8:54 AM

    Enjoying the posts from the male persuasion.

    I literally travel today to an unknown, in an unfamiliar manner, and I'm not taking the computer, so posts may not happen for me. But the trusty hand-made Nepalese paper journal and Pilot G-2, black, yes of course... traveling without them would be heartless.

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  5. UnknownApril 7, 2010 at 11:05 AM

    Hey Chris, James, Jeffrey: good to "see" you.

    Chris: I'm still laughing out loud at the mobile phone post. So hilarious.

    Jeffrey: great piece today. Liked the contradictions all over the place.

    ShameShaman: happy trails, wherever they lead.

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  6. Janet MaykusApril 7, 2010 at 3:15 PM

    You don't want to mess with bears. They're big. They're strong.

    If you run across one when hiking, you have about as many choices for survival as you do when you live through an earthquake....get in a doorway they say. To me this always sounded like advice they gave you so you'd have something to do instead of thinking about the fact that a building is about to fall on you....If you run into a bear while hiking you are not to run. They are faster than you are. They can climb trees too. If you run across a bear while hiking you are supposed to stand still. If the bear attacks you, you are to roll into a ball and cover your face as much as possible.

    I suppose that's so you can become a 125 pound ball for the bear to toss about until bored.

    I was determined to make it to the top of the trail. In spring, the trail guide said, there is a spectacular alpine lupine meadow. I wanted to see that lupine meadow.

    After a while I started to question my quest for the alpine lupine meadow. I decided I'd turn around. Then, there it was. The cutest little bear cub I'd ever seen. It was adorable. It was in a clearing where the snow was melted; gnawing on something.

    I saw movement over my right shoulder. I was between mamma and baby.

    Do I go in a ball now or wait?

    I had plenty of time to stand there and wonder how she'd eat me. I wondered if she'd rip off a foot or pounce on me and pop off my head. I wondered if she'd leave me there on the trail headless, footless for the coyotes and buzzards. There was a long time to stand there thinking about being eaten. I wished for cyanide pills.

    She looked at me. Seemed she could tell I was no threat...just stupid. She didn't come near me, but she went to her cub. They made bear noises and mamma shoved her baby in the direction she wanted to go. They walked away from me.

    The guide didn't tell me when it was ok to start moving after a bear walks away. It seemed to assume that if you encountered the bear then of course you'd end up in the ball position, and then, well there wasn't really a need for further instruction.

    So I stood. For a while.

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  7. UnknownApril 7, 2010 at 5:57 PM

    inkydinky: Singing. That's what I learned after coming face to face with a bear her babies just outside my remote cabin in the White Mountains. Now when alone I always sing (though badly) and that keeps them away.

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  8. UnknownApril 7, 2010 at 6:06 PM

    When I fly I look out the window. The clouds look they'd be so comfortable to snuggle up on and take a nap. If I fell out of a plane, would they catch me?

    Look at those big olive squares. Like a patchwork quilt. Are they farms? Where are the barns and the farmhouses? What marks the property line? Where are the people?

    The constant engine hum numbs me. The briefcase with work stuffed under the seat stays stuffed. Look, now there are mountains with snow everywhere. Still? At this time of the year?

    Where are we?

    Now the clouds are cuddling up tight, huddled together, blocking the view. Who might be below looking up at these clouds? Do they hear us or just see a face in the clouds? Or a dog or a clown or a dream?

    Maybe no one looks up, so busy looking ahead. Or at a screen.

    High up with the hum I am far away, even for just a few hours.

    Peanuts taste so good up here. Whoaa. Is that the Pacific? Those hills. They're so green.

    I like being high up. Maybe someday I'll live on the highest floor of a skyscraper and wonder.

    Or live at sea level and look up.

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  9. JamesApril 7, 2010 at 10:15 PM

    "Plenty of time to stand there and wonder how she would eat me" -- nice Inkydinky -- pulled me right into your predicament.

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  10. JamesApril 7, 2010 at 11:06 PM

    I'm looking around quickly - find something inexpensive (of course it'll be inexpensive, it's WalMart - duh!) for the kids. Wait a minute: this shit isn't made in China - wow! Indonesia. What about this reading workbook for my 6 year old girl? Made in New Zealand - are they kidding me??!! That's great! I thought it was all Chinese shit items that break two days later.

    Now I'm on the roof -- what the fuck is that!!! I see the whole roof is covered with solar panels! Am I really on the roof of the WalMart store?? Maybe I accidentally ended up on the Coffee Bean and Tealeaf store. No. It is WalMart. I know it is cause I am working on a commercial here -- on the roof -- about the solar panels and WalMarts efforts to go green! This store is in Chino, California!! The day before we were shooting in Apple Valley - near Victorville and there was - out on the high desert, next to their huge distribution wherehouse is SEVEN acres of solar panels! Wow! You go K... I mean WalMart! Why do we still want them out of L.A. proper?

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  11. UnknownApril 8, 2010 at 11:14 AM

    I've been writing on my computer a bit & I liked it, too! Still, there's nothing like the sound & feel of my favorite pen on paper.

    We sit at our dinner table with a crisp white tablecloth, the perfect family. We sit up straight. We’re dressed perfectly. We smile. The table is set beautifully and the food looks delicious, but it’s not edible. It was prepared by the food decorator who told us not to touch it.

    I’m feeling sexy in my baby blue vest and striped collared shirt. I’m smiling the biggest smile I think I’ve ever smiled. It’s the “I’m making shitloads of money” smile and I have it down. I hate that my older son, my older fake son, is so much taller than me, even when he’s sitting down. I wish my fake wife, who is stunningly beautiful by the way, would hold my hand just a bit tighter.

    What are we selling here anyway?
    Peace, harmony, beauty, perfection, joy, bliss, happiness, fulfillment, contentment, multiple generations, health, connection, expression, sweetness, warmth, kindness, attention, focus on the father figure, conservative upbringing, cleanliness, tidiness, family love.

    Do you want to know what’s underneath the shiny chrome dome sitting on the middle of the table? An empty white dinner plate with my cell phone sitting on it, so I can check messages in between takes. The director doesn’t know it’s there. I don’t think he’d approve, even though it’s on silent. I need to know if I have auditions tomorrow or if I booked the US Bank commercial that I’m on avail for. Always wondering what the next job with be. Pretty glamorous, huh?

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  12. Skull SwingerApril 8, 2010 at 12:50 PM

    “Everyone is gay and Asian,” Laura said.

    “Huh?” I thought to myself for 7 years.

    I was now sitting across from Early Smith, a burnout from Morton. He didn’t give a fuck. It was just plain. Why didn’t teachers see it? Why didn’t cops see it?

    Evil poured out of him.

    He was…

    Burned out.

    …smoldering at 15.

    I was on the Lexington Local one Halloween night, a few of us got on the train after watching part of the parade in the village. We got on at Bleecker, and at Astor a wilding pack of ski masked, hoody wearing 12-15 year old's burst into the car. I could see they had no regard for anything. I mean nothing was stopping them. They were all street...had absolutely no sense. They didn’t give a flying fucking shit about anything, didn’t know enough to care.

    They broke into the conductor’s car and started beat boxing and rapping on the PA system. A few of them ripped out the plastic separators that held advertisements over the seats. They placed one of the separators in the door, so when it opened it would bend and then shatter, sending plastic shrapnel through the car.
    This was something out of a Lessing novel.

    His pal whose name I can’t remember, Carl! No, Steve, Brad, Jeff, Doug, Mike, Todd, ….all of these names conjure knuckle dragging cavemanism, all are single syllable grunt names, never full names, were they born Steven, Bradley, Jeffery, Douglas Michael? They are guttural people of mud; eyelids still sealed shut, misshapen teeth, noses to one side, fists of sodden potato's, beefed and clenched, thumbs like hydrants.

    These two pillars of delinquency chose on this lunch day to sit opposite me with their smirks, their ideas…greeting me with fists. Destroying my mother’s sack lunch, crushing my Hostess Ho Ho's, peanut butter & jelly sandwich, crackers and apple slices.

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  13. sbarrysApril 12, 2010 at 11:38 PM

    My little Airstream Bambi ain't what she used to be. That's a trailer, by the way. The round-shaped metal ones. Mine's been on the road a while, east and west of the good ole U.S. more times than Forrest Gump himself. It's the only place I feel like myself. Out on the road, where no one knows me, no one gives two shits if I stop and piss on a bush or wake them up from a nap to buy a couple of gallons of petrol. Every little town I pass through, not the cities, not a chance, I wonder if I could live out here. I take myself through the day, getting up, feeding the dogs, cats, mice, rates, what the hell, making my way off to work, passing nobody on the way there or the way home. Might be ten people in the whole town and we say hello and all that, but we don't socialize, not a lick, nope, nope, nope. We're all out here for the same reason. To get the fuck away from whatever it is that's been chasing us the better part of our lives. Better if it's the desert than the mountains or the sea or any place with more to say than us. The desert doesn't say shit. Doesn't give a shit. Walk through it and it might not even know you were there. Not true for a sandy beach. My Airstream provides everything I need and not one ounce more. How many rooms does a man need? Toilets, sinks, comfy chairs? One of each suits me just fine. Less to think about, less to clog my mind as I solve the world's problems and keep the solutions to myself. See, if you're not gonna do anything anyway, might as well do it in nowhere. Don't even pay half attention to the folks that come by and look at me like I'm the one lost. Let me translate their, "Well, this is a lovely place all by itself out here in the desert," to "Who the fuck would infest this rat hole even if they were running from the law?" Uh huh, keep talking and thinking and head straight back to your city to have your soul sucked out by some overpriced sushi and fancy facial. I'm staying here. Airstream and hood up on my Jeep for the rest of my damn life.

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