Sunday April 21st, 2013

The exercise:

I do believe it's time for another go at the Random CD prompt. So pick a song as randomly as you please, then use its first line as your own (credit going where it's due, as always). Then? Take it from there.

I've been listening to the song I used quite a bit over the last week, with a few different lines stuck on repeat in my head. Once I realized this line was the opening line, it was pretty much a done deal that I had to use it with this prompt.

Had a farming first today: I got to till up the garden using the attachment on the tractor. Usually Kat's dad does that for us, but I figured it was probably time for me to learn how it's done.

Aside from the freezing cold wind and a couple moments of frustration (I am not patient with myself when learning new things), I'd say it went pretty well.

Mine:

Winter Winds by Mumford & Sons

As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts, I move through the streets carrying a secret smile. Safe and secure inside my thick down jacket, I watch the hunched shoulders and downcast faces of my fellow pedestrians as they force themselves about their daily business.

I am light and nimble on my feet, but I try not to be too obvious about it. I'd hate for one of these sad sacks to take out their pain and longing on me. Their suffering has nothing to do with me. I am not responsible for it, nor do I wish to assist with its healing.

My heart is at peace, and I intend to keep it that way. No man or woman is the source of this contentment. It is safer this way. More reliable, less fickle. I am a visitor to this depressing place and I shall leave in the same state of mind as I arrived.

Well, perhaps I will leave just a smidgen happier.

For I am alone, but I am not lonely. All this misery surrounding me is fantastic company.

6 comments:

Greg said...

You're learning to drive a tractor? With all of its tools? I'm sure that should worry your neighbours somewhat, as you'll want to teach Max at some point.... The wind doesn't sound like much fun though, from what I remember as a kid, most tractors are open to the elements.
Hah, anyone would think you'd been over here in London during the recent lengthy winter! There were plenty of hunched shoulders then as we all wondered why it was persisting. I like the spirit of the narrator, he's got a very positive outlook on life – almost Zen in it's attitude I think.
Mine... well, you'll know the band :) I remember this track from when the album came out, and to my surprise it was on the radio over the weekend as well, prompting me to go looking for the album again.

Nobody's Hero by Rush.
I knew he was different in his sexuality but then, he was Dr. Septopus: part man, part squid. I always wondered if there was something going on between him and Sylvestra, though a small voice in the back of my mind thought that that was icky. As I later realised, while writing the Green Lightbulb's hagiography, Sylvestra was pretty different in her sexuality too.
I remember the morning I couldn't find any Brie in the fridge – I was staying at the headquarters of the Council of Nastiness for the week while I profiled the supervillains for a national newspaper – and mentioned it to Bad Kitty.
"Oh, Pussy will have taken it," she purred. "It's his time of the month. Well, season."
"What?" I asked, puzzled, but at that point the Red Lightbulb came in and saw her. She yowled and sprayed him from an indelicate part of her anatomy, and he seized a bread-knife with a ghoulish scream, and I lunged for my phone to Instagram the moment. I won several prizes for those pictures.
Then there was the time I walked into the machine shop and heard the scream of an overpowered lathe. Moments later it stopped, and Dr. Septopus, sweating heavily, appeared. I would have said he looked flushed, but his grey-blue skin never really changed colour much.
"What do you want?" he asked, his beak clacking nervously. Before I could answer though Sylvestra stalked in and the shadows seemed to gather around her. A freezing chill enveloped us both and there was a smell of rotting, swampy woodland.
"Who gave the Green Lightbulb a Barbie doll?" she asked, and Dr. Septopus cringed. I got prizes for those photographs as well, though it was hard to keep pressing the shutter-release button with all that screaming going on.
So yes, I knew he was different in his sexuality.

David said...

As inspired by Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream"....don't ask
(edited for this family friendly site, cause this is one angry, profane character)

You think I’m pretty without any make up on. Why? Why would you be so cruel, to say something so pathetically untrue? How could you lie? You pig. I know what you want. That’s all you f-rs ever want. Telling me things that no one would believe. You stupid c-. You won’t see me how you want. No, it does not matter what I want. What matters are your lies. You just want…..shut up! Shut up! You will not have any. Stay the f- away from me. It does not matter what I want! Look at me. Now look at me. Still want to say that? How about now? And now? And, yes, now? Now. Now. Now. Yes.

MosesMalone said...

Ok, I loooooooooove this writing prompt!!!! I seriously wrote about 5 different songs. I finished 2, but I loved this! I couldn't decide which songs to write about bc I love so many. I am including 2 because I finished these. But just for kicks, the other contenders were Nothin' but a G thang, Juicy by Biggie, and Ghetto Superstar. Seriously, I'm a 90's throwback somedays.

David's is hysterical by the way. Greg's instagram cracked me up. It was unexpected in this odd line up of characters.

Without further ado, lets take it back to high school...

Crossroads by Bone Thugs and Harmony…

“Now tell me whatcha gonna do when there ain't no where to run
When judgment comes for you, when judgment comes for you
Tell me whatcha gonna do when there ain't no where to hide
When judgment comes for you 'coz it's gonna come for you”

That’s actually my ringtone for my husband, but sometimes, when the air is right, even though I’m tucking in my babies, I go back 17 years. I can feel that all-boys-Catholic-high-school-gym-floor pounding sensation. I can smell that old gymnasium smell mixed with cute boy and drunk girl. I feel 15.

The scene is October of 1996 in Philly PA. It’s the first Friday of the month, and all the kids from the neighboring schools are walking to Father Judge on this rainy evening. It’s the first Judge dance of my sophomore year. 13 girls are walking to the local boys Catholic School in platform heals, short plaid skirts, and tight half tops. Our father’s would kill us if they saw what we looked like, but we feel very protected in our "safety in numbers" group. We lined our lips in brown eyeliner, curled our bangs, parted our hair and slicked it back. We look like something right out of Dangerous Minds. We go to the local Girls Catholic School, and we have a certain reputation. However, I assure you we are only here to look cool and kiss boys, and stealing beer and cigarettes from your parents definitely makes you look cool when you are 15. Tonight, we are going to dance with our friends, we are going to kiss some cute boys, and we are going to make it home by curfew. We look like a bunch of girl thugs, but it was ’96 and that’s how we dressed.

17 years later, I can feel 15, but I am not. I’m 32 with 3 kids, and I used drink beers, smoke cigs, dance to rap music, kiss boys, and make it home by curfew. Now, I drink tea, read books, and write about when I was 15. I still listen to Bone Thugs and Harmony. So that adorable little punk is still in me somewhere.

Hot in Herre by Nelly…

The woman in the window is obviously just my reflection, but I am not above checking myself out. So I did. At first, I criticized my new baby hair wispies because they are stupid, but then I was distracted by me feet. I have on my customized neon pink Nikes. I almost whistled at myself while thinking, "Damn, girl. You looking fine! Now get that ass back in motion you big fine woman, you. Damn." So I did all the while humming “I was like, good gracious, ass is bodacious.”

writebite said...

What a Wonderful World (dwp) (todays’ piece is inspired by song lyrics to-)

I see friends shaking hands.
Saying, "How do you do?"
They're really saying,
"I love you". (What a Wonderful World performed by Louis Armstrong)

I walked along the street today in my old stomping ground. I was only on that particluar road this morning doing a favour for a friend: I had to collect her mail while she was away.
The sun was shining warmly on my back but clouds were looming ahead; I regretted leaving my umbrella at home for a slight second.
My iPhone was playing What a Wonderful World sung so sensitively by the late, great Louis Armstrong and I was feeling good. A lady turned the corner into the street and wound down her window; she thrust her hand out, waving madly at me, striking up a quick conversation with a huge smile on her face before she had to terminate because of another car approaching from behind.
We waved goodbye and threw air kisses at one another. I walked on, grinning at her enthusiasm; Louis had just sung the words, “I see friends shaking hands, saying ’How do you do?’, they’re really sayin’, ’I love you!’ “ - how true, I thought. I am truly blessed to be surrounded with such friends.
I turned a corner and saw another friend driving in her car; she quickly told me she reminded her daughter it was coffee morning today. She was right. My next stop was the cafe on the corner shop.

I got there first and three more ladies joined me for our monthly coffee date where we swap stories, share wisdom and laugh heartily. One of them said, twice, “I count myself lucky, I live a truly blessed life!”
We confirmed that with a resounding “Yes, we do, too.”

When I left the cafe, the sun was shining madly, not a cloud to be seen. I didn’t need the umbrella anyway.

What a wonderful world!

g2 (la pianista irlandesa) said...

I really didn't know what else to do with this, so I'mma leave it like this.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Automatonic Electronic Harmonics, Steam Powered Giraffe
Ever since the first time I opened my eyes, I have awoken to the same thing, the same off-white, pockmarked ceiling. I have counted all the marks on this dingy ceiling so many times that I could rattle off the answer, but if I try to think about it I forget. I'm close enough to it that I can touch it, but I can still sit up if I need to.

The florescent lights are in the central passage at my feet, but that ceiling's higher than my ceiling. A ventilated breeze trips over my face and steepled fingers. I've known nothing else, but I know the air's stale, and the light is strange.

I can hear sounds out beyond my feet, but they're hushed, intrusive in their understatement. They don't feel real. But my breathing is real. So's my heartbeat, the sighs that always surprise me, the buzz in my head I can't quite pin down.

Marc said...

Greg - oh yes, I'm sure Max will be behind that wheel sooner than is really wise :P

Excellent choice of songs, and... yeah, the reporter's point of view is wonderful.

David - no worries, I won't ask :)

Definitely profane, but fantastically captured.

Mo - glad you like it, it's one of my favs as well :)

Hah, thanks for the throwbacks. I used to absolutely love that Bone Thugs song.

Writebite - thank you for that uplifting tale :)

g2 - ah, but so many possibilities lay waiting to be explored...

Awesome opening, even if it never goes beyond that point.