Sunday March 1st, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: the blunder.

Took the day off renovation work, which was... badly needed. Hoping to get a good chunk of what remains done tomorrow morning.

Which is being made possible by the fact that Kat's dad retired from his off the farm job last week. So that means he's a) available, and b) looking for something to do. Though, with the way things go around the farm, it's unlikely he'll have much trouble finding things to keep him busy.

I'm just glad our bathroom is what currently has his attention.


A perfect, starry night,
Everything's going right.
We're walking hand in hand
Barefoot on the cool sand;
With no one else around,
Love has space to be found.

We pause to watch a boat,
I quickly drop my coat.
One foot spreads it around,
I suggest we lay down.
Things must have gone astray -
Now she's running away...


Greg said...

You just need to find Kat's dad a hobby. If you open that childrentertainment centre in Osoyoos he could dress up as a clown and scare^H^H^H^H^Hamuse the children! Good luck with the renovation work tomorrow, I'm sure that a day off will have you revitalised and good to go again!
I found the rhythm of your poem today rather jerky, and I suspect that it's one that I need to hear read aloud to really get how it works. I'll have another look at it after work when I'm sure I'll suddenly realised how the scheme works :) However, I love the tale it tells and how it goes from romantic to stalker-creepy in no time flat!

The blunder
Blunder, n. prob. O.It, plaudere, dim. applaudere. to vigorously applaud an act of unconscionable stupidity.
Many, many people in this world commit acts of stupidity that by rights, and ideally by law, should see them shot dead on the spot as justified punishment for their transgressions against nature. Since lawmakers seem to be wet blankets and terrified that getting just one punishment wrong will somehow see them sent to Hell, instead of recognising that a deterrent needs to be effective; and that there are plenty of dirty little secrets in their personal lives that have already guaranteed themselves a toasty spot downtown (I have documentary evidence...), we have instead to recourse to sarcasm.
And so, when a blunder is committed we giggle, laugh, chuckle, cheer, deride, and applaud. This seems insufficient deterrent to this dictionary, but the biggest blunders do seem to be self-limiting in their fatality, and hope springs eternal.

Anonymous said...

Oh Marc, I absolutely love your poem! The rhyming and flowing verse are perfect and that ending! Greg, I like yours, too. I love how this prompt seems very technical, almost like an abstract of an essay.


His stupid, stupid clumsy fingers. Not only would the company never let him work in the advertisement department again but now his future working with the company at all was in jeopardy. His sweat was beading across his forehead and upper lip as he watched the lawyer and chair head discussing what was supposed to be the most creative ad yet. But what he really couldn’t grasp was why it was him and not the editor sitting in the hot seat.
Was it really his fault that the ad went to print with “best rapes in town” instead of “best rates in town”?

Marc said...

Greg - heh, I think he'd sign up to take care of the cooking end of things. The clown... not so much :P

Yeah, I don't know if mine flowed as well as I'd have liked. Glad you were able to enjoy its story anyway.

Ah, your beloved dictionary returns! Well worth the wait, to be certain :D

Ivybennet - thank you!

Hah! Yes, that seems like something that should have been caught somewhere further down the line :P