4 minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. Every Friday we do a fun free-write. (Usually two minutes, but we're going all out today.) :)

You can write whatever you want in the comments section on this blog post. You have FOUR minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'four' and encourage them to play. 

Swimming laps in the gene pool; I got my nose twisted up from the chorine stink of it. Partitions make me nervous, it's always been this way. I'm a little scared of raccoons, too. I feel like I can say that here. Raccoons can be some bad motherfuckers. Never want to mess with a raccoon.

Trolls and troglodytes traipse through the labyrinth of cyber space. I wonder if any of us know who we are anymore?

I once was a younger man, before that a boy. Life was simple, yet somehow so complex that it felt like gravity applied to me more than anyone else. I guess we all feel like that.

I tried to explain, once, to a angry young man that life would be OK. It's hard to he heard in the wake of a death. Especially when the kid going into the ground is like a brother. And you've got to explain it somehow to the kid who is still there. And you can't say, 'life fucking sucks.' You gotta say something big and important. Shiny with the extra rust protection.

I don't remember exactly what I said, but it involved a lot of hemming and hawing and platitudes. Not too many. My mouth can only hold so much bullshit. But the words weren't important. They darted around us like swallows at dusk. The cold leached our resolve, but we stood, shivering with cold and fear, because it was the least we could do. The absolute least. But at least we did something. I'd like to say that helps me sleep at night, but it would be a lie.

FOUR minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. Every Friday we do a fun free-write. No reason. Just ending the week in style.

Basically, you can write whatever you want in the comments section. You have four minutes. Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. Play as many times as you like (doesn't have to be today, even). 

So, tell a friend. If you have one. If not, tell your enemies. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play. Have a great weekend!

They'd pushed her chair into a corner again. The spot got a lot of sun; she knew they were trying to be kind. And what could she do? She lived her days on wheels, and that changed the power dynamics drastically. So, she sat and felt the warmth of the sun mingling with the cold memory of childhood afternoons sitting in the corner. Not speaking. She tried to remember that she was not in the corner because she had done anything wrong. Most times, she did.

She did pretty well most days. That was what she thought. She was wrong, but no one ever told her different. They smiled and brought trays of food and fluffed the pillows in her room and every day was exactly the damn same. Who could tell anything in this place?

The TV was always on. It had tortured her at first. Now, she was used to it. Like the little cage of birds that were supposed to cheer them. She could not bear to look at them. They should have been outside, flying. Outside, free. Outside, where the world was not a rotating platter of jello and medication. All of them. 

The birds couldn't leave, and she couldn't leave. She often wished she had the courage to open the latch. Or to find out what the hell was going on...

4 Minutes. GO!

Hey, writer-type folks. Every Friday we* do a fun free write. Basically, you can write whatever you want in the comments section. You have FOUR minutes. Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So tell a friend. If you have one. If not, tell your enemies. 

The old man sat on a log abutting the stream. His hand cradled a lightweight spinning rod that had seen many years, it was weathered just like the man. Down the bank a ways, there were some teenagers fishing with a cooler of beer. He ignored them and they reciprocated.

The day progressed like days do. Sun shone in soft rivulets that seemed to pour down the man's face, collecting at the bottom of his spine where the warmth soothed an old injury that had never healed quite right. 

The man was not catching any fish. The youngsters caught plenty of beer. The man never made a cast, just sat watching his line in the water, absorbing the sun. Pine smell. Somehow the laughter of the kids was right, too. Usually, he liked quiet, but he hadn't heard that much laughing in a while. 

He was reeling in when the tall, thin one approached.

"Catch anything?"

"Not a damn thing, son."

The man finished reeling in and the boy laughed.

"Maybe if you put a lure on it would help."

The old man winked a smile that spoke of things the boy did not yet understand.

"Maybe, but I'm not here to catch fish."


*Laurie Boris and I lately you slackers!

Four Minutes. Go!

There are a lot of things you can do in four minutes and a lot you can't. And a lot you can do in four that will seem like one or feel like hours. We all just muddy the waters, waiting for showers. Cause they bring mayflowers, which wasn't a real good thing for a lot of people, but what's done is done.

I feel the crispness in the air and panic starts to rise. I don't know why. The next few months will hit me hard. They always do. In the past they have meant trips to the ER and embarrassing breakdowns. This year, I don't know. Tis the magic of the season, I guess.

I want to be so many things that I can't keep track, so I end up covered in mud, spinning my wheels. I even throw my share. And I get muddied myself. The world is a fucked up place. It's hard to figure out who's right when everyone is.

Ignorance is a strange adventure. I know all about it. I am ignorant of so many things. And for someone who prides himself on characterization, I have been feeling real ignorant about real people lately. Or maybe disappointed is a better word. I'm disappointed in all of us.

But it's time to string lights and put up scary pictures. Won't that be fun.

4 Minutes. Go!

It's flash Friday again. All writers and non writers are welcome to put their three minute free write in the comments section on this post. Tell a friend. The more the merrier. :)

You place the fingers on the right keys, and I don't mean Alicia. Shit's not even spelled the same, and the wife wouldn't like it. But this isn't about that. This is about nothing. I thought of some good writing advice last night. People ask for it sometimes and I never have anything simple to say. Now, I do. KEEP YOUR NAILS NICE. I spend a lot of time looking at my fingers. It helps if I have decent looking nails.

Which makes me realize something. I finally learned to type while looking at the screen. Sometimes I look at my fingers anyway. But that's something. I've improved myself. I used to watch my mom type and it would blow my mind.

I had a dream last night. That's kind of unusual for me. I don't remember much of it, but it was a howling, lonely thing. I didn't enjoy it. I wished for another night of blackness.

I went to the Farmer's Market yesterday and I felt happy. I felt good to be spending time with my neighbors. I was happy to buy fresh peaches, gently stroking the fuzz and squeezing them ever so softly. My time is almost up. This time. It is time to go back to the editing that my Friday will be made of. I'm not complaining though. It could be made of worse things.