Showing posts with label Series: Super-short sTROYies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Series: Super-short sTROYies. Show all posts

September 21, 2016

Random Wordplay for Wednesday 9/21/16

Murder's Lament.

Used in a sentence:  " I present Murder's Lament (the latest entrance in the occasional series of super-short sTROYies)"

THERE IS NOTHING so heavy as the empty pet carrier that you lug into the house when returning from the vet after the passing of a family member.

THERE IS NOTHING so soft as the old sweatshirt that was used to swaddle your loved one to hold against you while waiting for the drugs to kick in before the final procedure -- the same one used in 2010, 2012, 2013 and ... this past Tuesday.

THERE IS NOTHING so difficult as the decision to be made as to the time to take the most unselfish of actions.

THERE IS NOTHING so peaceful as knowing that the pain and the uncomfortableness are gone.

THERE IS NOTHING so tender as the look in your loved one's eyes as they seek someone familiar amidst the fog of the sedative.

THERE IS NOTHING so sweet as the sigh your loved one gives as they lay their heads against your chest to find comfort from the beating of your heart in their final moments.

THERE IS NOTHING so sad as that last breath.

THERE IS NOTHING so empty as the room you enter back at home because you hear the phantom cries of the one who once spent so much time there.

THERE IS NOTHING so full as the minds of the ones left behind with remembrances of seventeen years of cuddle sessions.

THERE IS NOTHING so rewarding as knowing that the empty pet carrier can be donated to a rescue agency that will see to it that it will be used to transport others to their forever homes.

THERE IS NOTHING so lasting as the memories.

THERE IS NOTHING so permanent as the love.

THERE IS NOTHING so heavy as the heart as it grieves.


July 9, 2016

Random Soapbox for Saturday 7/9/16

I don't mean to go off on a rant here, but ...

#nolivesmatter

Officers from A-Z:  Ahrens, Krol, Smith, Thompson and Zammaripi

African American citizens Alton, Akai, Eric, Freddie, Laquan, Michael, Philando, Tamir, Trayvon and Walter.

#nolivesmatter

3 in Boston on the finish line.
9 in Charleston during a prayer meeting.
14 in San Bernardino for the holiday.
49 in Pulse at closing time.
168 in Oklahoma starting a work day.
2977 in four planes and three buildings and one field.

#nolivesmatter

Newtown.  Virginia Tech.  NIU.  Columbine.

#nolivesmatter

Progeny of Susan Smith.  Children of Andrea Yates.

#nolivesmatter

Exes of OJ.  Girlfriends of blade runners.  Partners of NFL players.

#nolivesmatter

Milk, Shephard, King
And don't forget the T's:  Angie Zapata, Gwen Araujo, Brandon Teena

#nolivesmatter

Strange fruit.  Burned buses.  Til and Evers.
Has anybody here seen my old friend Abraham?  Martin?  John?

#nolivesmatter

Henry Harrison.  Lincoln.  Garfield.  McKinley.  Harding  Roosevelt.  Kennedy.
Thanks a hell of a lot Tecumseh for your curse.
Although ... to be fair to you and your kind ...
Have a smallpox blanket.  Meet us at Wounded Knee.  Walk to Oklahoma, won't ya?

#nolivesmatter

Kamikaze planes.  Genocides. Concentration camps.  Final solutions.
Just a few million Jews.

#nolivesmatter

Now it's all suicide vests and AlShabab and AlQaeda all the time.
Taliban.  ISIS.  ISIL.  Daesh.
Shia v Sunni.  Muslim v Muslim.

#nolivesmatter

We can't pretend that deathmatches are new.  It's always been ...
Cain v Abel.  Bible much?
Islam v Christian v Jew.  Crusade much?
Black v Black.  Inner city much?
Axis v Allied.  World war much?
Dentist v Cecil.  Social media much?
(Oh and let's not forget ... Dodos.  Auks.  Sabertooth Felines.  Wooly Mammoths.)

#nolivesmatter

Call of Duty.  Doom.  Halo.
Those games have come to life.
Mental illness plus easy access to guns.
That combination has come home to roost.
Copycats and constant media coverage.
That new normal has fed the cycle.
Bottom line:  anyone who represents THE OTHER must be annihilated.

#nolivesmatter

Well sweetie ... guess who is an OTHER to someone else by very definition.
You.
Me.

#nolivesmatter  
#nolivesmatter  
#nolivesmatter

CODA

#lovematters

#acceptancematters  #tolerancematters  #understandingmatters

#patiencematters  #kindnessmatters

#standingupmatters  #speakingoutmatters #sidingwithmatters

#Imatter  #youmatter  #wematter  #theymatter

For humanity's sake, take action today.

#makesomethingmatter

September 5, 2015

Random Soapbox for Saturday 9/5/15

I don't mean to go off on a rant here, but ...

... I will ... AND I will use today's post as my 11th (!) edition of my "Super-short sTROYies", called PRAYERS IN FLORIDA:

... here are the prayers we say here in Florida any time we leave the house ...

Dear flakka freaks:  Seeing as how it is customary for you to strip down to nothing as your body bakes from the inside, please only be a pretty person on the gravel.

Dear exit ramp panhandlers:  Please be the normal kind of beggars ... just average ordinary folk down on their collective lucks ... and not the kind that do like that one did down in Miami practicing some authentic zombie like flesh-eating behaviors.

Dear neighborhood watch people:  Please don't get all George Zimmerman on me as I walk through the 'hood.  I've spent enough time in the sun that my skin is darker now and I do tend to walk through topless with my tattoos on display (it's too hot for hoodies in this 'hood).

Dear hurricanes:  Keep me and mine most certainly out of your cones of uncertainty.

Dear killer gators and giant pythons:  Stay to the west in the Glades where you belong and never belonged (respectively).

Dear crazies of every flavor:  Please let today be the day you decided to MAINTAIN your medication regiment.

Dear avocado, mango and palm trees:  At least until I've successfully navigated underneath past each of you, please hold on to your fruit and coconuts and branches.

Dear daily afternoon storm:  Please direct your lightning strikes somewhere other than my position.

Dear I-95 drivers:  I want to live despite needing to traverse your trails on occasion.  So old folks with diminished reflexes and young folks with enhanced impulses, and international visitors whose cars must not have turn signals in your country of origin (the deadliest of driving cocktails), stay alert and out of my way.

In Rick Scott's name we pray ... AMEN.

SAVE ME FROM THE FLESH-EATING PANHANDLERS:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/29/rudy-eugene-identified-as-naked-cannibal-face-attack-miami_n_1552249.html

SAVE ME FROM THE GIANT SNAKES:
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/06/us/the-burmese-python-snake-thats-eating-florida.html?_r=0

SAVE ME FROM THE DEATHTRAP KNOWN AS I-95:
http://articles.sun-sentinel.com/2010-06-07/news/fl-i-95-deadly-highway-20100607_1_i-95-lanes-broward-stretch

August 20, 2015

Random Thought for Thursday 8/20/15

[Tonight ... the 10th entry into the occasional series called 'Super-short sTROYies' ...]

CATASTROPHIZE MUCH?

4:51am:  AWAKEN to the sound of silence, which shouldn't be as the overhead fan is to be rotating, and the AC is to be cycling, and the stand up fan is to be blowing.

4:52am:  CONCLUDE that the power is out -- not in an "oh poor fuse had too much stress" kind of way, but in a "these are the type of blackouts about which they make documentaries years later".

4:53am:  CONSIDER that the utility company recently called to warn residents of the fact that e coli might have been in the water and SPECULATE that maybe it's e coli that has gotten into the electricity instead.

4:55am:  DETERMINE that, after trying for two whole minutes, it is too hot and too quiet now to stay asleep.

5:00am:  SIT anxiously on the couch, wondering if the looting of the 'hood or the rising of the sun will come first.

5:01am:  CONFIRM that the baseball bat is still hidden by the front door and that the butcher block full of knives is within arm's reach of the back door ... seeing as how the fancy alarm runs off of electricity, which is no longer available.

5:02am:  REALIZE that others might have guns for this type of situation, but that I shouldn't, because I'm the type of person who would enjoy shooting at the ground near the feet of strangers just to make them dance.

5:04am:  WONDER how best to re-train the puppies to quit being so darn cute and friendly now that the apocalypse is nigh.

5:06am:  RECALL that half the 'hood is Creole, and REGRET that neither my high school nor my college offered that as a foreign language option, leaving me unprepared for what may now be my final hours.

5:10am:  REMEMBER that I could still access Facebook from my phone and DEBATE whether I owed the social world an announcement that it was the beginning of the end of times.

5:13am:  MARVEL at how the quality of my life was now equal to the duration of my cell phone battery.

5:20am:  GRAB the new flashlight from the hurricane expo and jot all of this down so that my last thoughts would be captured for posterity.

5:27am:  AWAKEN (again) from having dozed off, to the sounds of beeps and whirrs and whistles of all of the appliances and electronic equipment coming back to life.

5:30am:  CLIMB back into bed, making a mental note to see what degree of catastrophizing is normal ... if any at all.

THE OTHER NINE ENTRIES:
http://www.capcognition.blogspot.com/search/label/Series%3A%20Super-short%20sTROYies

A DISORDER?  WHY NOT JUST AN ECCENTRICITY?:
https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/in-practice/201301/what-is-catastrophizing-cognitive-distortions

A MORE "RATIONAL" APPROACH:
http://www.redcross.org/prepare/disaster/power-outage

February 19, 2015

Random Thought for Thursday 2/19/15

Ugh.  I *hate* pulling it out early.

I mean I know, I know ... it's a "better safe than sorry" type solution to what could be an unsatisfactory experience for everyone.

But I would so much rather leave it in until just the right moment for the maximum effect.  After all, if I pull it out early, I just feel like I've wasted some of the experience.

The reality is that it's all about the perfect timing .. and who amongst us in those scenarios is anywhere close to perfect.

But still ... I am always striving to improve ... and one day soon before I get too much older and can't control it at all anymore ... I *will* figure out how to time the microwave popcorn making such that every kernel is popped.  And from that day forward -- no more pulling it out early.

[Note:  the above was my NINTH entry in my occasional creative writing series known as "Super-short sTROYies", which can all be found on the blog by clicking on that listing on the right hand menu.  Oh ... and this entry's title?  'THE PERFECT POP:  #getyourmindoutthegutter'.]

EVERYTHING IS A "HACK" NOW:
http://food-hacks.wonderhowto.com/how-to/secret-perfectly-fluffy-microwave-popcorn-isnt-popcorn-button-0151544/

THE DEVIL IS IN THE POPCORN (NO LITERALLY):
http://healyeatsreal.com/5-reasons-you-should-never-eat-microwave-popcorn/

THE OTHER EIGHT Super-short sTROYies:
http://capcognition.blogspot.com/search/label/Series%3A%20Super-short%20sTROYies

August 14, 2013

Random Wordplay for Wednesday 8/14/13

TELEMARKETER TIRADE:  TAKE TWO

[a wordplay example connected back to my] [original post in 2011 and used to effectuate a] [revival of my series of super-short sTROYies]

[NOTE:  this is not a work of fiction, but]
[is a script of a conversation I had yesterday]

*************************************
Phone rings.  I answer.

ME:  This is Troy.

GIRL:  May I please speak to Mr. or Mrs. Neidermyer?

ME:  This is Troy.

GIRL:  Hi ... I'm just confirming the address you supplied recently ... are you at ... [correctly says my address to me]

ME:  Yep.

GIRL:  And to confirm, what's the zip code?

ME:  60613.

GIRL:  I'm calling to notify you that you have won a 2013 BMW, a Ferrari, $49,000 thousand in cash, a $1500 shopping spree or $500 in cash.

ME:  Wait a minute.  I'm won $49,000 and $500?  Why not just tell me that I won $49,500 at the same time?

GIRL:  Oh -- well, it's not both.  It's either or -- after you've viewed our property ...

ME:  Wait a minute -- before we continue, I need you to explain the disparity in the prizes.  I mean $49,000 and $500 are wildly different amounts.

GIRL:  It all depends on what you win after you've ...

ME:  Actually, I've made a decision.  I give it to you.

GIRL:  [Silence.]

ME:  You may have my prize.

GIRL:  I appreciate that, but ...

ME:  No buts ... I'm giving it to you.  Don't you watch Oprah?  I'm paying it forward.

GIRL:  I appreciate that, but I'm not allowed ... 

ME:  Oh no -- I insist!  If this call's being taped, I state publicly that I bequeath this gift to you.  It's yours -- I swear on my unborn child and consistent with whatever your lawyers say need to be signed.  It's yours.  I bet you'd look pretty in that BMW.

GIRL:  I appreciate that, but ...

ME:  You don't get it.  I want you to appreciate that BMW -- or, if it's only $500, then I want you to buy yourself a BMW matchbox and to enjoy the other $495 you'll have left over.

GIRL:  So ... you'll get your gift ...

ME:  No ... no ... don't go back to your script.  I'm not interested in that.  By the way, I have to hope that you are smart enough to know that I'm toying with you now -- and, as someone who is probably paid on commission, that means I'm actually taking money out of your pocket when I really don't have anything of value to offer you.  Does that sound like a familiar business model?

GIRL:  [Silence.]

ME:  Well -- you have a good day.

GIRL:  [quietly]  You too ...

And ... S C E N E!

THE ORIGINAL TELEMARKETER TIRADE:

January 26, 2013

Random Soapbox for Saturday 1/26/13

I don't mean to go off on a rant here, but ...

I will anyway.

[And I'll do it in a way I haven't done since October 2011.  Here is my seventh entry in the series:  Super-short sTROYies ...]

DRAMA AT THE DENNY's 
or
THIS CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT

(c):  I'd like the Sausage Super Slam, but can you make it a Bacon one instead?

waitress:  No, I'm sorry but the manager won't allow any substitutions.  He's kind of a jerk.

me:  Well, then I'd like to buy the side of bacon for .99, and if you'll swap it for the sausage when the food arrives, and then take those sausages and throw them at your boss and tell them that we win, I'll add extra dollar to your tip.

waitress:  I'm in!

[And ... scene.]

[Note:  this manager who will sacrifice customer satisfaction over a dollar is probably also the one who spelled the city in which is Denny's is located as Calument City instead of Calumet City.  Jerk.]

October 13, 2011

Random Thought for Thursday 10/13/11

THE GIVING of PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE THANKS (24 hrs of thankful living)

Dear Landlord Jim, THANKS for fixing the broken lock on the back gate, ALTHOUGH I would rather have learned of it directly from you instead of today when the wind blew it closed behind me after I took out the trash ... in the rain ... in my "lounge" pants.

Dear Hipster-boys-with-small-feet who live downstairs, THANKS for letting me back in the building, ALTHOUGH I would rather you had done that after I rang the doorbell the first time, instead of waiting for me to pound on your window since I knew you were home and could watch you play your first-person shooter video game on the giant TV I could see from the front doorstep.

Dear Middle-Aged Couple who were walking on the curb and made me pass you in the street while walking home from getting my haircut tonight, THANKS for making me feel younger since I was ambling faster than you, ALTHOUGH I would rather that moment had not turned sad when I realized that you were on the curb because you, in turn, were passing the Super-Elderly Couple who were blocking your way and moving at two inches per step -- which made me sad as they may not have much time left and it was taking them a half hour to go one block.

Dear Reba McEntire, THANKS in advance for coming to sing and bringing so many opening acts with you, ALTHOUGH I would rather not have to travel to Ft. Wayne tomorrow night to see you (not that I'm not making the trip, mind you -- here's to an unexpected weekend getaway to all things Indiana!)

[And this fulfills my personal commitment to offer up one of these each quarter ... more super-short sTROYies coming in 2012 ...]

TICKETS ON SALE 'TIL NOVEMBER, THEN AGAIN OVERSEAS in 2012:
http://www.reba.com/shows/tour/

OTHER THINGS TO DO IN FT WAYNE:
http://www.visitfortwayne.com/

AND THEN -- ON TO INDIANAPOLIS:
http://indianapolis-indiana.funcityfinder.com/indianapolis-things-to-do/

August 25, 2011

Random Thought for Thursday 8/25/11

I know I wasn't speeding. Admittedly, I did have my cruise control set for a few miles above the speed limit -- but that's what you do on long drives at night on midwest interstates. [I remind myself of this fact as I relay this story partially to absolve myself from blame for the tragedy that unfolded.] Of course, my actual speed of travel didn't make the sound of him hitting my windshield any less jarring.

I couldn't help it. I had to know why -- even though I knew before I started asking the questions that I would never know why. But I still couldn't help myself from thinking ... Was he showing off for friends? Trying to impress a paramour? Was his life so painful that he self-medicated off of the thrill of risky behavior?

Or was it just a case of the "wrong place at the wrong time"? Maybe he was a visitor from another place that was unfamiliar with the environs and just confused easily? Was it a desperate move of one who had given up hope? Was I complicit in a suicide of sorts?

Could it be that this all happened so that he could save another? Was there someone else in danger that I hadn't seen, and this was a noble move of sacrifice? Is there someone on the side of the road that I had now passed by who was dealing with survivor's guilt? Someone with whom I should commiserate as we were now both affected by this situation?

It was only the sound of my car drifting to the side of the road and running over the rumble strips that revived me from my cerebral reverie. As the last bit of the bioluminescent innards faded, and the little green light of the dead firefly was finally and forever extinguished, I said a few words to wish him well on his new path, flicked on the wipers and squirted the now Styx-ian fluids that would erase him from my direct view.

And then I vowed to not watch "A Bug's Life" again, to stop anthropomorphizing my entomological interactions and I continued on my journey (undoubtedly silently slaying hundreds more on my path, but much more confident in my position in this ecosystem).

[And you just read my fifth entry in my occasional series of super-short sTROYies -- you can find the others by using the link to the left on the blog ...]

BUT THEY ARE ALL SO CUTE HERE:
http://www.pixar.com/featurefilms/abl/

THE SKINNY ON THE GLOWIN':
http://www.clermontcountyohio.gov/nr0611lightningbug.aspx

THIS PLACE HAS A FEATURED BUG OF THE MONTH:
http://microbiology.mtsinai.on.ca/bug/TW/tw-mm.shtml

May 7, 2011

Random Soapbox for Saturday 5/7/11

[This would normally start with an "I don't mean to go off on a rant here, but" ... except today, I turned up the anger and extremism a notch, so I thought it best to dust off something I haven't done in awhile ... here is my fourth entry of a "super-short sTROYie" ...]

TELEMARKETER TIRADE

I don't mean to go off on a tirade here, but ... telemarketers be warned.

No amount of sales training on how to overcome obstacles has prepared you for me.

I will annihilate you. I will shake you to your core. I will make you doubt your calling (pun fully intended).

I know that in this economy, everyone needs a job. So I will politely decline – ONCE – but then all bets are off if you do not pick up on the fact that you should hang up and move on to someone else. I will tell you that I make no deals over the phone and inform you that your best bet is to mail me your pitch. That will be my last warning before I strike.

I will inspire you to workplace violence. I will imply that you are the true terrorist.

I will mock you mercilessly. I will resort to foul language. I will become a monster. I will view our conversation as bloodsport, from which only one of us will survive with our faculties intact. You could be a grandmother of twelve and a deacon in your church, but I will make your experience something akin to dancing with the devil.

If I am with others, I will put you on speaker phone and turn your destruction into a parlor game.

I will insult the memory of your mother, whom I will tell you must certainly have died young based on your lack of manners, glossing over the irony of that statement.

I will resort to tactics like flushing the commode into the phone … or suddenly blaring the television as I hold it up to the speaker … or pretending to talk to another about how ridiculous you are being to make you think that this is a public shaming.

If you show one small sign of crazy during our interaction, I will match it and raise the scenario to demented within seconds. You will find yourself in a role play, and you will be Star Jones while I am the oh-so-real tell-it-like-it-is Nene Leakes (bloop, bloop, bloop)!

I will flash analyze your sales pitch and laser in on its weaknesses, holding you accountable for its flaws.

I will make it my goal to provide you with an experience that you will not be able to share with your co-workers or your closest family -- and that you will only tell your therapist in an emotional breakthrough years later. I will want to scar your psyche. I will not give up until you abandon capitalism and move to India to become the next Mother Theresa.

And guess what – telemarketers aren’t in the Bible so no one can throw up a Leviticus reference to ban my behavior.

The Jerky Boys will come out of retirement to fete my at an awards show. The tales of my machinations will create a whole new oeuvre of film to replace the torture porn craze that brought us nearly a dozen Saw movies. My hatred and singular focus mentality will be channeled to create a political party that rivals the Tea Party and I will make it my mission to get a TV show and to run for president on an anti-telemarketer platform in 2012.

Bottom line – I am happy with my current cable provider. I am not looking to experiment by switching my electricity delivery channel to your company. I already know that I didn't really win that free cruise.

Your only defense is to accept my offer when I initially decline. Or to quickly recognize the hopelessness of the situation before it gets ugly. Or to contact me with an automated message, as then my vitriol will be directed to a machine whose feelings can’t be hurt (although I will still try, as it is my default defense position and as I am clearly OK with looking like an idiot).

You have been warned ...

P.S. If I am ever the victim of a random killing or a drive-by shooting, please let the police know to check my phone records, as they might just find someone whom I maddened to murder.



I'VE SAID IT BEFORE, BUT FACEBOOK HAS A PAGE FOR EVERYTHING:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Hate-Telemarketers/166179260100340

TOP 10 REASONS TO SAY "BLOOP, BLOOP, BLOOP":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOjraa2sQ6U

I KNOW YOUR TACTICS. I HAVE SEEN YOUR TACTICS. THEY WILL NOT WORK:

http://business.solveyourproblem.com/start-a-home-business/telemarketing-tactics.shtml



January 20, 2011

Random Thought for Thursday 1/20/11

[I haven't done this in awhile, and I promised a re-telling of my dream from the other weekend ... so here is another super short sTROYie (and length is a relevant concept of course). In the spirit of Freytag's Pyramid ...]

A MID-WINTER NIGHT's DREAM

I. Exposition

I awoke in the cell with my head pressed flat against my pillow. Lying still, I advanced though stages of grogginess as shadows became clearer, surroundings became familiar, items came into view. My eye, now drawn to the unkempt pile of duotangs and trapper keepers and loose papers piled in the corner as if prepared for a bonfire, drank in the scene -- my brain processed the images one at a time as my memories slowly returned. Then, clarity as my grogginess lifted and as I fully accepted my awake-dream state. I was in jail for not having finished my homework. Task at hand now decided upon, I tried to begin my penance -- but instead I began to panic as my head refused to be lifted off of my prison issued pillow.

II. Rising Action

With all of the strength I could muster, I pried my noggin off of its resting place and quickly realized that in my deep sleep, wax had drained out of my ear throughout the time I had been sleeping (was it days? weeks?) and hardened into a glue like puddle as if a candy had melted and re-formed as it cooled. I yelled for help ... I clawed at the protrusion ... and eventually I pried it loose. It broke free from my skin -- tearing at my scalp and coming apart in my hands. I looked in the mirror and saw large areas of oozing raw bloody mush and skull pieces and knew something must be done. My jailer appeared and informed me that I must go to Walmart to get the cream that would heal me. He released me from the cell and sent me out to the parking lot, where work colleagues Beth W and Adam M were waiting. I crawled into the back seat, hiding my wounds from them and we drove off in silence -- on our way to the Walmart.

III. Climax

Silence. Darkness. Even the street lights were dim at best. I was unaware of the time, but sensed it was just before dawn (not that time mattered at Walmart). There was no traffic ... there were no passersby ... just us on an early morning mission to restore my head to its usual state. We stopped at a red light for what seemed like too long of a time, and the darkness seemed to double in strength or size or effect. In its totality, my other senses were heightened. I could hear someone coming .. someone walking around to the side of the car ... someone dragging his fingertips on paint as he neared the front. "Lock your doors! Run the light! This is the bad part of town!!" I startled Beth into action, and we sped through the intersection -- hearts pounding until we found a well lit gas station ahead. I knew I had to get out of the car. As they filled up with gas, I snuck away into the breaking dawn, comforted by the growing light and the knowledge that I had escaped certain misfortune.

IV. Falling Action

One obstacle remained before the Walmart. I turned down the alley and walked into a college dorm. I knew my travel would be fastest if I could get through the building, but there was a line of women blocking my path. I quickly realized that security was too tight, and I left the front desk area to find another way to my destination. Then, in the quad, a lagoon with a festival set up on its shores. Booths, huts, circus atmosphere -- all beckoned to me. Out of the lagoon mist -- high school classmate Fred F walked up to me and asked me if I was going to participate in the festivities. I declined ... and immediately set out for the far side of the lagoon as I could see the Walmart through the copse of trees. Suddenly, Rachel R nee M appeared, armed with a clipboard, ready to answer any question I had. I pointed to the Walmart and she stepped aside to show me a path through a wintry marshy boggy woods. I set out on my path, so close to my goal.

V. Dénouement

Feet soaked and frozen, I crawled up to the side of the road, just in time to see Chris L pulling over in his new hovercraft. I paused to wonder if it was a new hovercraft because he never had a hovercraft before or if it was simply a new hovercraft because he traded the old one in. The back was laden with bags of Walmart goodies ... and he misjudged the side of the road as the back end slid off into the woods from whence I had just come. I tried to push it back on the road ... scanning the items inside to see if he had picked up my cream. I pushed ... and pushed ... and pushed ... and pushed ... and I felt a pain in my depths. A pain that was driving me out of my dreamworld ...

[... a pain discussed in my post on 1/8/10 that was enough to jolt me from my sleep, leaving these story lines unfinished... and open to interpretation!]

FREYTAG's DRAMATIC STRUCTURE:
http://www.stageandscreenwriters.com/Freytag_s_Dramatic_Structur.html

DREAM DICTIONARY (AND IT INCLUDES EARWAX):
http://www.thecuriousdreamer.com/dreamdictionary/

ANOTHER STORY THAT BEGINS WITH WAKING UP IN JAIL:
http://hubpages.com/hub/beataddiction

June 10, 2010

Random Thought for Thursday 6/10/10

"Hawks Win!", (another) super-short sTROYie:

"In this corner ... the constant hum and whirr of the air conditioner, providing a white noise of sorts allowing me to slide into slumber. And, in the other corner, dressed in red or purple, the opponent to my good night's sleep each night, the el tracks just less than five feet away from my bed, rumbling at all hours, with a frequency seemingly designed to make sure that I never stay in deep REM sleep for too long. But this moment, 2:22 in the early hours of this new day, was different -- the el noises I regularly absorbed into my dreams as a coping mechanism were not the perpetrators of this jolt to my consciousness.

Instead, it was the rapid fire of gunshots. With my accelerated ascension to a state of awakeness, I wasn't sure exactly how many I had heard. Was that seven? eight? nine? Regardless, by the final shot I was hyper aware that I had exited dreamland. I lay there, expecting the next wave of disquiet to wash over me -- expecting the wail of the wounded, the nattering of neighbors gathered to inspect the shoot-out's outcome, the squeal of the sirens as Chicago's finest descended on the violence.

I waited. And waited. And heard only the hum and whirr of the air conditioner.

Curiosity piqued, I headed directly for the doors of my apartment. Back door -- all three locks in place. Front door -- also locked and only silence spilling from the hallway outside. Safety assured, I peeked through the blinds of the kitchen window, allowing me a view to the alley from whence the noises came. Nothing. No scurrying shadows. No nosy neighbors. No reflecting red lights. Nothing. Then, finally, my detective diligence was rewarded. Another round of "pops" -- from the same alley but this time across the street.

I ran to the front window, debating whether I was really prepared to become state's witness were I to see anything specific. Then, off in the distance, the true source of my evening's adventure came into view. The cascading colorful sparks of the fireworks were still visible in the night's sky above the alley.

Suddenly -- clarity! It was shortly after 2:22. The bars had closed. The revelers had spilled out to the neighborhood. Wrigley was awash with drunken hockey fans. I was not awakened by a shoot-out in Wrigley's alley. I was awakened by the ongoing celebration -- Hawks Win!"

AT LEAST A DOZEN ARRESTED AT WRIGELY AS HAWKS-WIN CELEBRATIONS GO ON:
http://www.suntimes.com/news/metro/2377600,wrigleyville-hawks-celebration-0610.article

CAUTIONARY TALE - RESEARCH YOUR SEARCH RESULTS CAREFULLY:
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2006/12/27/why_hawks_win

March 18, 2010

Random Thought for Thursday 3/18/10

"Bacon Hands", a super-short sTROYie.

"It lay there, unfulfilled and resigned to its fate looking up at me despondently, like a death row prisoner strapped into the gurney who had already given up -- with no hope of a last minute reprieve phone call, no tension or drama from spectators... seeking closure in its demise. And then, it struck me, that sad-looking sandwich that I had made for my lunch would be enhanced with BACON. I quickly procured three thick sliced naturally smoked center cut pieces from the frig and then, with a desire to be humane to my lunch's final moments, I swaddled them in paper towels and laid them in the microwave manger. 120 seconds passed, and I swear that I could see my sandwich change before me -- still resigned to its fate, but now almost proud -- as if it were preparing for a culinary honorary discharge. The mayo glistened, the folds of ham suddenly seemed almost as if they had been pressed and the bread stood firm at attention with the knowledge that it was honored for the service it was to provide. Then, with the beep of the microwave signaling the beginning of the impending ceremony, I reached in to claim my bacon, unwrapping it from its paper towel protection and lovingly placing it on my sandwich-soldier. In the glory of the moment, an angel whispered in my ear, 'wash your hands -- you've seen the signs promoting hygiene, you're in the kitchen, you are about to eat' ... and then, in the other ear, another voice -- could it be an even more beautiful angel ... could it be the voice of God and not one of his employees -- whispering, 'Don't wash them! Then they'll smell like bacon the rest of the afternoon'. Ahhhhh ... bacon hands!"