Wednesday September 28th, 2011

The exercise:

Today we write about: the cynic.

Inspired by a man I was sitting near the day we didn't dock in Ketchikan - to say that he was unimpressed with things would be an understatement. In fact, he made a comment about our doing only 11 knots (so that we wouldn't rock around so much in the big waves) was b.s. and that the ship could totally go faster.

I think he was just ready to get off the ship.

I'll share some pictures taken while we sailed through Tracy Arm Fjord, beginning with the scenery:

There were loads and loads of waterfalls (one thing the rain was good for, at least):

But my favorite part were the icebergs:

Tomorrow I'll pick out some pictures of the ship's interior, and then I'll finally get to the house pictures. That's the plan, at any rate.


All of his forecasts call for rain,
He's constantly surprised by sun;
His lips are so straight it's as though
He's never even heard of fun.

His complaints could cover the Earth,
His pessimism has no end -
And yet he can't stop wondering
Why in the world he has no friends.


Greg said...

It does sound like your cynic wasn't enjoying himself a great deal, which is a shame; surely a cruise ship is there to relax and have fun on! The waterfalls are great (again!) but I think you're right, the icebergs are wonderful. And such a beautiful colour on the one in your picture.
Heh, your second verse brought a smile to my lips as I read it; it's a very fitting conclusion. All in all, a lovely little poem.

The cynic
I dreamt I dwelled in marble halls,
Where virtue was extolled;
The light was pure and blinding,
And all were self-controlled.

Where people met in open air,
To discuss their deepest thoughts,
Discourse was just rational,
And truth and justice sought.

There I was a cynic,
Doglike to the end,
And then my dream was shattered,
As I woke to this, my friend.

[You might need to check out the original Cynics, a sect of philosophers, whose name derives from Kunikos, meaning doglike.]

Drake Davenport said...

Let's see... This might be a challenge for me. I think my story's taking more of a pessimist route than a cynic route, but then again, they're synonyms, right?

A flood of emotions drowned out his mind. He could barely maintain his composure. Across from him was sitting the most beautiful woman he had ever met. What a cruel game fate must be playing today.

Jonathan knew that he would never be worthy of someone like her. Why did they have to be stuck in the same room? Why? He saw her staring at him. He looked toward her and smiled awkwardly.

"So," she began to say, "how are you doing, Jon?"

Small talk. Jonathan knew that she was just trying to pass the time until she could get away from him. "G-good," he managed to get out, staring at the ground. Silence.

"Well, that's good," she said to the air.

Jonathan kept his eyes fixed on a scuff mark on the tile. More silence. Minutes passed.

"So, do you have any plans this weekend?" she asked him.

He glanced up for a moment and met her eyes. For a split second, he thought he saw something in the way she was looking at him. It filled him with hope. But he was quick to put such ridiculous feelings in check. No way could she be interested in him.

"Um... no," he said, glancing back to that scuff mark. Silence once more.

"Well, nice talking to you," she stated, grabbing her bag and walking away.

"Y-yeah. Bye." He knew it. She couldn't wait to get out of there.

Marc said...

Greg - your poem is an absolute pleasure to read aloud. And I think I shall be doing some research shortly :)

Drake - indeed they are, so no worries :)

Oh man, that's painful to read. Like, painful because we as the reader can see what he's obviously missing - not that it was written badly!

T'was very nicely done, in fact.