Sunday May 21st, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something or someone that is: unique.

Met a lovely couple (and their three dogs) at Cottonwood Beach this morning. They're not the first locals I've come across who don't think our local bylaws apply to them, but there were certainly the most unpleasant I've talked to.

I will only say two things about it. One, I am glad that I am not a bylaw enforcement officer. And two... whatever the enforcement officers get paid, it is not enough.

It was a hot one today. Combined with the long weekend crowds it felt like a summer preview.

Mine:

I am a beautiful, one of a kind butterfly, to whom the rules clearly do not apply. They are for that lady, and that child, and most definitely that guy. But all these restrictions and limitations are not for I.

I am the exception to the rule, the epitome of cool, the smartest kid in school. Save your legislative guidance for all these other fools.

This life is mine, I am the pearl before these swine. I was created by a divine design, only entering this world when all of the stars were perfectly aligned.

I... you're writing me a ticket?

How much is the fine?!?

4 Comments:

morganna said...

Pay your
Attention to
Me and only me -- how
Can anything else be worthy
Of your time? I am the most important
One of all -- most all deserving
How can you possibly
Find worth elsewhere
At all?

g2 (la pianista irlandesa) said...

Decided to take a loose interpretation of “unique”---in other startling news, the sun is bright when visible, and water is wet.
=============================
The Internet is a really, really weird thing.

This coming Thursday is Towel Day, an annual celebration of the life and work of Douglas Adams. Last year for Towel Day, I read and recorded the passage in That Wholly Remarkable Book about the benefits of towels, and I was vaguely thinking that maybe I might do something similar this year.

Last Friday, though, I had a ridiculous idea—why not get a bunch of people to read bits, and I'll splice them together?

It made me sit back, bemused. How the zark was I supposed to do that? I’m supposed to get however-many people who are not me to decide it’s a good idea, and then hop onto it? They’ve only got three days between posting and the necessary deadline to do that, how’s that going to work?

Only one way to find out—toss the document out to the Internet, poke a couple people, and hope.

All fourteen spaces filled within eight hours. A couple Internet and writing friends hopped on, as well as a couple real-life and radio theater friends. There’s two fellow audio drama twitter community folks, and three folks part of established, successful shows I respect and love. One of those folks even hopped in before I started poking the idea towards people—an award-winning lead of a really splendid show just decides to pitch in to this ridiculous idea I’d had some thirty hours before. The fact that any of these people—much less all of these people—decided that this is a thing they’d like to do is ridiculous for me to grasp. Maybe that's just my deep-rooted pianistic tendency to solitude, even if I've been collaborating with people on bits and pieces for the better part of ten years now.

And now I’m receiving people’s contributions, so now their collaboration is even more tangible, at least as tangible as a sound file can be. It’s ridiculous and incredible.

Really, it’s ridiculous and incredible that it’s possible at all. There’s an infrastructure in place that lets people who are tens, hundreds, and thousands of miles away get to come together and make something. There are some ills in that infrastructure, but there’s a lot of beautiful and important stuff that comes out of it, too. There’s a chance to hear and cross paths with people who are very different than and very similar to you, difference and similarity that’s vital for so many people.

And then there’s the chance to make something silly from time to time. That’s pretty cool, too.

Soon comes the editing of all these voices—remember this bit I did a while back? There are far fewer jars and swirling things than I’d prefer, but I basically get to do that magic on Wednesday.

Greg said...

And I'm late again... I feel like the White Rabbit. I've been in Budapest again for the week and it's been a more relaxed one than previous times, but a little more difficult in a different way: I've handed in my resignation and it's not yet public knowledge, so I've been telling my team out there very quietly about it, and they've been a little bit concerned. Which is rubbish because they're strong and can definitely manage without me for a while, but I think they wanted the opportunity to not have to think like that while I'm still here :)
The couple with their dogs sound charming indeed, and I hope the bylaw enforcement officials catch-up with en masse and teach them a lesson! And they seem to have inspired some of your rhyming prose that would sound so good performed, so I guess I have to be a tiny bit grateful to them for that. The cockiness of the bylaw-breaker comes through, and is very nicely deflated at the end, with the last line being just perfect. Great work!

Unique
Kieran had played hockey in school and after, and had broad shoulders, big thighs and arms, and a smile where the irregularities in colour gave away where he'd had to have teeth replaced. His scars were mostly hidden under his shirt; over his shoulder and down his back, and many of them were actually from a car accident three years ago. Today his shirt was white and sweat had stained patches of it into translucence so that the raised ridges of reddish scar tissue slipped in and out of visiblity as he twisted and turned. His blue suit trousers scratched slightly as he moved; his thighs were still mostly muscle but they rubbed together when he walked unless he wore shorts.
"Sit still." The woman – he couldn't bring himself to dignify her with the word lady – glared at him. "There are 15 minutes to go before the comfort break!"
Kieran pulled a smile onto his face and wriggled once more in his chair. The woman was assaulting the room with Powerpoint slides, committing the usual corporate offences of packing 18 lines of minute text onto each slide, reading it out like a badly-prepared lesson, and only using clip-art for pictures. He slipped his phone from his pocket and checked the time. Then he thumb-printed it unlocked and started to check his email.
Five seconds later he stopped checking his mail and checked the time again. Then his hand shot up so fast he actually felt himself nearly strain the tendons around the socket.
"What?" snapped the woman from HR. She might have been talking about headcount plans for the next six months.
"I need the bathroom," he said.
"15 minutes!"
"It's a medical condition," said Kieran thinking as fast as he could. "I can... bring... you a doctor's note tomorrow!" He cringed inside at how much like a schoolchild he sounded.
The HR woman's eyes narrowed and he squirmed a little more, aware that if looks could kill she would be the office Lord Executioner.
"Two minutes!"
Kieran nearly vaulted out of his seat, tipping the chair over with a clatter and losing another thirty seconds to righting it and apologising. The HR woman was talking again before he'd even reached the door.
He made it to his office with 18 seconds to spare, and locked the door behind him with trembling fingers. The unique aspect of working in this particular office was the security forces. At change-over periods the only safe place to be was in your own office or at your own desk, working hard. Anyone – or thing – else was fair game.
He heard the screams even though the meeting room was two floors up.

Marc said...

Morganna - yeah, that captures the attitude you're going for quite nicely, I think. Almost tempted to ask if that's an acrostic of someone's name (especially because it starts with Pam) but I won't go there :)

g2 - you really must drop by more often, if only so that I am not tempted to simply type '!' every time I start a response to your writing :)

That is a fascinating and inspiring tale. I love that it all came together so quickly for you. Is there a link available to the final piece?

Greg - ah, I've finally gotten to this bit of news. I think congratulations are in order? It's an exciting move at any rate, I should think. I hope everything goes/is going/went smoothly!

And thank you for the kind words on mine :)

That is quite the take on the prompt! A well conveyed tale. I think this might be a view inside one of... ah, dang it, his name is escaping me at the moment. Your vaunted Head of Security who has been making regular visits to the blog in recent years. I feel like this is a tale told from inside one of his buildings.

Bah, forgive me for not remembering his name. I suspect I will remember it in the middle of the night, or at very least as I am drifting off to sleep tonight.

CHARLES!

Hah, remembered it after all.