Tuesday, March 22, 2011

LyricalLines.

First Line From My Favorte Song (Rolling In The Deep by Adele):

There's a fire starting in my heart....

But then again, it wouldn't be the first time. 

When I met Sam, I thought he was it.  All that and a bag of cookies...warm melty chocolate chip cookies.  There was Fire.  Passion.  Crazy Love.

Of course, when I met Sam's wife, 3 months later, I realized,  partaking of warm melty chocolate chip cookies, may not be so good for ones health.

I didn't even know it was her, who I'd met.  I was squeezing oranges in the produce section, when this tall beautiful, Tinker Bell Esque woman reached over and grabbed an orange from the pile, and they all started to tumble.  An orange waterfall rolling everywhere.   She tried to catch them.  I tried to catch them.  But they just kept rolling.  We were both laughing at our feeble attempt to save the fruit, when I heard Sam behind me say, "Damn baby, what are you doin' to those oranges?"  I turned to reply, surprised that he was in the store at all,  but before I could answer, Ms. Bell, opened her perfect little pink lips and spoke.  "Sammy, I'm so embarrased,"  she giggled.  "I just wanted some oranges to make that cranberry orange relish you liked so much last Thanksgiving."

I don't know who saw who first.  Did Sam see me, and panic?  Or did I see him and panic?  I guess it doesn't matter much now anyway.  It was the last time I saw him.  His stuff, which wasn't much, that he had at my apartment was thrown in the dumpster.  He never called me.  I never called him.  He was just gone.  A ghost.

So, when I met Burke two weeks ago, the first question out of my mouth was whether or not he was married, engaged, dating or other wise attached to another person.  He assured me he was not.

What he hadn't been able to assure me of, was that he and I would never run into Sam while out on a date.

OK, to be continued.  That was fun kids.  :)

Monday, March 21, 2011

Spring?

Our first full day of Spring...and wouldntchaknow?  Snow.  Lots of snow.  :)

So the prompt I just pulled is:

"Take the first line of your favorite song and write a story using it as the first line."

Favorite song...hmmm...I'll have to think.

Haha, what's the point of this post if I don't have time right now to answer.  I guess I'll come back and edit later...but in the mean time I will be pondering.     

Friday, March 18, 2011

PromptThis.

So I decided to grab a writing prompt.  This is from Writer's Digest :

You always look out the dark windows and wonder if something is out there. One night when you look, a small face with bright eyes appears at the window. Write about what you do, who/what it is, and why they are there.     

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Well, for starter's I avoid looking out dark windows at all costs.  It freaks me out.  Why?  I'll tell you why.

Throughout my childhood my mother went through various phases and degrees of religious fanatacism.   During one phases, she would get together at the homes of other parishioners, to discuss a variety of topics...which always just seemed to be like HUGE gossip sessions followed up by prayer.   Anyway, it was during one of these sessions that the topic of demon possession came up.  Ya know, fun lite fare.   And the story that has stuck in my head since that night was one told by a man in the group. 

He told of a young boy who was possessed by demons.  He said the little boy's bedroom was on the second floor of his house, and that when the boy would look out the window, he would see people standing there looking back at him.  Except of course, he was 2 stories above ground.  The story goes that the parents thought the kid was losing it until the father went into the boys room one night and to prove that there was no one out there, he went to the window and looked out into the darkness, and saw the face of a demon looking back at him. 

Keep in mind, that I couldn't have been older than 10?  And these "stories" were told as truths.  They were told by Christians who did not lie, ever.  They were actual occurences that happened either to the poeple in the group, or by close family or friends of people in the group.  (If you don't hear the sarcasm there, let me spell it out...s a r c a s m.)

And even though I know now that those stories were a bunch of rubbish...they still haunt me.

Gooseberrybumps.

I know it's here.  I think about it all of the time.  But when I sit down to write, I get distracted or frustrated or bored with what I have to say.  And, next thing you know, I'm backspacing, deleting, or just not writing at all...staring blankly into this neglected blog o' mine.

So let's start with a quick update.

I got a new job.  I LOVE it.  Love.  I'm doing something that makes a difference.  O, and I have my own office.  Wait...did I write all of this somewhere already?  Sheesh.

I just ate a strawberry that gave me goosebumps.

I miss live music at dives like BB's Blues, Jazz, and Soups.

I miss girls.

I'm gonna have another strawberry.  Wait.

Wow...I seriously don't think I've ever eaten anything (shut up those of you with your minds in the gutter) that has given me goosebumps like this.  (And, now, I'm thinking about TJ...thanks gutterminds.)  Wow. I'm totally having an affair with Strawberries right now.  It is the strangest thing I've ever experienced.

Ok...that's really all I can write right now.  Wow.