The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: distractions.
Went to the gym this morning. Unfortunately the gym has many televisions and, even worse, most of them were tuned in to the miserable spectacle that was the American media's coverage of the school shootings in Connecticut.
Ended up coming back home feeling rather depressed. A long snuggle with Max helped.
I'm feeling especially grateful for him today.
Mine:
"All right, think you can manage to distract the guards while I slip inside and help myself to some holiday spending money?"
"Not a problem, man. Don't you worry, we'll have their full and undivided attention for hours."
"We... hey, where did you get that baby?"
5 comments:
I've only heard peripherally about those shootings, but it doesn't sound good. I can imagine how that would be quite a downer at the gym.
Heh, your bank-robbers remind me of Dave and Vince for some reason!
Distractions
Mother always, always got distracted when decorating the Christmas tree. It was the tinsel, and the ornaments, and the choice between the fairy and the star for the top: she always ended up sitting in the mdidle of the decorations turning them over in her hands and cooing softly.
So this year, Father announced that he would decorate the tree, while everyone else went to lunch at a seafood restaurant (he was allergic to seafood). And when they all came back, there he was, swathed in tinsel and singing songs from musicals, just as distracted as Mother had ever been.
Perfect topic for today - I live in Connecticut - a few towns over from Newtown. Luckily, know one I know was directly affected, but many friends of friends.
Lotus position, check. Focus on breath, check. Mind clear, ch.... Aw hell, try again.
Greg - yeah, they might be cut from the same cloth :P
Hah, great imagery. Sounds like an interesting house to spend Christmas in.
Anonymous - glad to hear you and yours are safe, but sad to know you were touched more directly than I was.
And yeah, that's pretty much me every time I try to meditate :)
Distractions
Jason tried to ignore the mosquito biting the side of his neck, the gnats hovering near his ear, the muscles cramping in his legs. He blinked the sweat from his eyes as he peered through the viewfinder; allowing himself a slight smile as his target appeared. The cut in his forefinger, acquired during his climb up this tree innumerable hours ago, stung as he pressed the trigger. She was not topless, but the exposed baby fat would make a perfect front cover shot for the National Enquirer.
Aholiab - very nice use of misdirection, as I was not expecting that ending at all :)
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