The exercise:
Write about a place that is: open all night.
Wrote this ahead of time, forgetting that today is Halloween. I suspect this will be the last year I forget this day for a very long time.
But yes, there will be a Halloween themed prompt tomorrow to make up for it. Or, you know, I'm sure you could find a way to work the holiday (for lack of a better word) into today's writing.
Mine:
With winter closing in business was growing steadily slower. Since there were no ski hills or major indoor attractions to offer, tourists were leaving town on their annual southward migrations.
Isaac, owner of the only 24 hour coffee shop for miles around, was keenly aware of this. His employees working the graveyard shift, desperate to be reincorporated into the day crew, had been reminding him every day for the past week.
Winter hours, they would say, bleary-eyed and tottering side to side, did not need to wait until the season officially began. The first major snowfall was more than good enough.
But Isaac was set in his ways like concrete. In thirty-five years of business he had never changed his shop's hours out of season. To do so now, he argued, would be nothing short of scandalous.
The graveyard crew, eyeing the calender which was taking great pleasure in reminding them that the solstice was still two weeks away, decided to take matters into their own hands.
That night they refused to open the till, instead giving away coffee and pastries to any soul who came near. There weren't many, but they thought their point well made.
Isaac, caring more for his pride than money, was unmoved.
Next they broke the coffee makers, then spent the rest of the night turning away empty-handed those customers who had caught wind of the previous night's antics. Surely, they reckoned, the complaints would sway the old man.
Isaac listened patiently, apologized sincerely for any inconvenience, and offered free coffee for a month. The shop hours remained as they were.
The graveyard workers reconvened, the panic in their eyes enclosed by dark circles. What else could be done? What action would get through to that stubborn fool?
In the end, the answer was painfully obvious. If Isaac wouldn't put an early end to the shop's summer hours, they would have to put an early end to Isaac.
Tuesday October 30th, 2012
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: conversations.
Today I present the haiku I wrote yesterday while I was under the impression that yesterday was today.
Indeed.
Mine:
His motormouth leaves
me with no hope to escape
this conversation.
* * *
Words drift between us,
delivered via secret
butterfly mailmen.
Write two haiku about: conversations.
Today I present the haiku I wrote yesterday while I was under the impression that yesterday was today.
Indeed.
Mine:
His motormouth leaves
me with no hope to escape
this conversation.
* * *
Words drift between us,
delivered via secret
butterfly mailmen.
Monday October 29th, 2012
The exercise:
Write about: an evolution.
More cleaning and organizing today. Also spent most of the morning in our local coffee shop with Kat, who enjoyed her hot chocolate very muchly.
Wrote mine while we were there... right after I finished writing two haiku because I was convinced it was Tuesday.
Mine:
When humans first discovered them, deep in the jungles of Brazil, they garnered little international attention. No use for them was immediately apparent, and on top of that they weren't especially attractive.
The world had long since moved on a year later, at which point the first change in the creatures was documented. Nothing startling, but a few researchers were quietly intrigued by the speed of their adaptation.
Four months after that a second permutation was recorded. Many considered this impossible, insisting that it had simply been missed during initial observations.
The third and fourth mutations which occurred in the following weeks, however, were too dramatic to be brushed aside in the same manner. A tripling in size, the sudden development of perfect night vision.
The creatures had the world's full attention now.
But by then it was too late to stop them.
Write about: an evolution.
More cleaning and organizing today. Also spent most of the morning in our local coffee shop with Kat, who enjoyed her hot chocolate very muchly.
Wrote mine while we were there... right after I finished writing two haiku because I was convinced it was Tuesday.
Mine:
When humans first discovered them, deep in the jungles of Brazil, they garnered little international attention. No use for them was immediately apparent, and on top of that they weren't especially attractive.
The world had long since moved on a year later, at which point the first change in the creatures was documented. Nothing startling, but a few researchers were quietly intrigued by the speed of their adaptation.
Four months after that a second permutation was recorded. Many considered this impossible, insisting that it had simply been missed during initial observations.
The third and fourth mutations which occurred in the following weeks, however, were too dramatic to be brushed aside in the same manner. A tripling in size, the sudden development of perfect night vision.
The creatures had the world's full attention now.
But by then it was too late to stop them.
Sunday October 28th, 2012
The exercise:
Write about: the professional.
Long but productive day. Finished the garlic work in the garden this morning before turning my attention to the car in the afternoon.
Cleaned it out, added coolant and windshield washer fluid, and finally got around to installing the car seat. I am not a big fan of the manual that came with it, but I got it figured out eventually.
We're pretty much set for baby at this point. Feels like the waiting game is really beginning in earnest.
What follows is not what actually happened today. But I have little trouble imagining it.
Mine:
The hobby mechanic
Is under the hood,
Banging and clanging
And up to no good.
The hood comes crashing down,
His head starts to throb;
His wife sweetly reminds:
"Don't quit your day job."
Write about: the professional.
Long but productive day. Finished the garlic work in the garden this morning before turning my attention to the car in the afternoon.
Cleaned it out, added coolant and windshield washer fluid, and finally got around to installing the car seat. I am not a big fan of the manual that came with it, but I got it figured out eventually.
We're pretty much set for baby at this point. Feels like the waiting game is really beginning in earnest.
What follows is not what actually happened today. But I have little trouble imagining it.
Mine:
The hobby mechanic
Is under the hood,
Banging and clanging
And up to no good.
The hood comes crashing down,
His head starts to throb;
His wife sweetly reminds:
"Don't quit your day job."
Saturday October 27th, 2012
The exercise:
Write a four line poem that could (or actually has) double(d) as a mantra.
The last market of the year was cold and wet and not particularly well attended, but that's all okay because it was, in fact, our last market of the year.
I only had to tell myself that about a hundred times this morning.
We're giving our local customers one last chance to order from us this Monday, and I've got a few things left that need doing in the garden. Other than that, this season is over and done with.
Mine:
I can't feel my fingers,
I think I lost a toe,
But I've got six months
For them to regrow.
Write a four line poem that could (or actually has) double(d) as a mantra.
The last market of the year was cold and wet and not particularly well attended, but that's all okay because it was, in fact, our last market of the year.
I only had to tell myself that about a hundred times this morning.
We're giving our local customers one last chance to order from us this Monday, and I've got a few things left that need doing in the garden. Other than that, this season is over and done with.
Mine:
I can't feel my fingers,
I think I lost a toe,
But I've got six months
For them to regrow.
Friday October 26th, 2012
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: wishes.
Had a lovely birthday day. Made pancakes with Kat for breakfast, did a little market prep work in the afternoon, then went out for a delicious dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants.
And sprinkled throughout all that were some truly wonderful birthday wishes from friends and family. I'm a pretty lucky guy.
Also: Kat gave me the only present I really wanted - I get to keep my birthday all to myself.
Well, not in the whole world, obviously. But within my family.
Mine:
With a long sucking breath and great, puffy cheeks, the little boy blew out the candles on his birthday cake. All of his friends at the dinner table and the adults gathered around the outskirts of the room waited in varying degrees of silence for him to announce his wish, as he'd promised he'd do while the lighter was still doing its work.
Never one for keeping secrets any longer than a few anxiety-filled minutes was he, something many suspected he learned from his gossip hound of a mother.
Looking around with an unreadable expression the boy solemnly announced, "I wished for Daddy to be run over by a bus and get replaced by Batman."
Write four lines of prose about: wishes.
Had a lovely birthday day. Made pancakes with Kat for breakfast, did a little market prep work in the afternoon, then went out for a delicious dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants.
And sprinkled throughout all that were some truly wonderful birthday wishes from friends and family. I'm a pretty lucky guy.
Also: Kat gave me the only present I really wanted - I get to keep my birthday all to myself.
Well, not in the whole world, obviously. But within my family.
Mine:
With a long sucking breath and great, puffy cheeks, the little boy blew out the candles on his birthday cake. All of his friends at the dinner table and the adults gathered around the outskirts of the room waited in varying degrees of silence for him to announce his wish, as he'd promised he'd do while the lighter was still doing its work.
Never one for keeping secrets any longer than a few anxiety-filled minutes was he, something many suspected he learned from his gossip hound of a mother.
Looking around with an unreadable expression the boy solemnly announced, "I wished for Daddy to be run over by a bus and get replaced by Batman."
Thursday October 25th, 2012
The exercise:
Write about: supernova.
We had another midwife appointment in Penticton this morning. At first we had them once a month, then we went down to every two weeks, now we're at every week until the baby comes. The midwives seem to know what they're doing, because this has matched up perfectly with the increasing number of questions we have for them at each visit.
Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that between the appointment, the drive, and various errands, this took up most of our day. Though I did manage to squeeze in a trip to the insurance office to get my driver's license renewed (it's expiring tomorrow).
Tomorrow I turn 34 years young. This will be the age that will always be remembered as the year I became a father.
Mine:
We could always tell when Mr. Richards was about to go supernova. There was a particular shade of red that would appear at the base of his neck, as though it was rising from beneath his shirt after it had already transformed the colour of the rest of his body.
It would pulsate up toward his cheeks and he would become the twin of the sort of Santa you might find in a small town's Christmas parade. Well, a throbbing, luminescent, gloriously angry Santa.
If we were wise, we'd knock off whatever we'd been doing to tick our teacher off at this point. Explosion averted, the red would drain back into his buttoned shirt and we'd wait a few minutes before starting up again.
But if we were foolish, or simply not paying close enough attention, that dangerous red would reach his eyes. And by that point, it was too late. There was no going back.
Mr. Richards was going to blow up and he was taking all of us with him.
Write about: supernova.
We had another midwife appointment in Penticton this morning. At first we had them once a month, then we went down to every two weeks, now we're at every week until the baby comes. The midwives seem to know what they're doing, because this has matched up perfectly with the increasing number of questions we have for them at each visit.
Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that between the appointment, the drive, and various errands, this took up most of our day. Though I did manage to squeeze in a trip to the insurance office to get my driver's license renewed (it's expiring tomorrow).
Tomorrow I turn 34 years young. This will be the age that will always be remembered as the year I became a father.
Mine:
We could always tell when Mr. Richards was about to go supernova. There was a particular shade of red that would appear at the base of his neck, as though it was rising from beneath his shirt after it had already transformed the colour of the rest of his body.
It would pulsate up toward his cheeks and he would become the twin of the sort of Santa you might find in a small town's Christmas parade. Well, a throbbing, luminescent, gloriously angry Santa.
If we were wise, we'd knock off whatever we'd been doing to tick our teacher off at this point. Explosion averted, the red would drain back into his buttoned shirt and we'd wait a few minutes before starting up again.
But if we were foolish, or simply not paying close enough attention, that dangerous red would reach his eyes. And by that point, it was too late. There was no going back.
Mr. Richards was going to blow up and he was taking all of us with him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)