Entertainment Daily

Monday, July 29, 2013

BAND (verb)

1: to affix a band to or tie up with a band

2: to finish or decorate with a band

3: to gather together : unite

 

“It’ll take the zombie apocalypse to bring them together after this fight,” my mother said gleefully. She hated the neighbors with a passion only equaled by hipsters’ hate of pop music. Or my hate for exercise. And my mother, when she asked me to exercise. In fact, that’s the only reason I was indulging in her ridiculous hobby of Bay-Window-Watch. Weekdays, 5pm, central time. I was hoping it would distract her from forcing me to go dawdle outdoors all day. An hour would keep her busy until I could use “It’s getting dark” as a just-barely-valid excuse for not going out.

Secretly, I kind of like the neighbors. I’ve had neighbors like my mother where I live. So I had a sort of vindictive wish for them to band together in a show of marital harmony for at least The Hour, thereby keeping nosiness at bay (ha ha) one more day.

A sudden intake of breath brought me back to reality. “Ooh, she’s picked up a knife – I think she’s gonna throw it!” my mother was at the edge of her seat, almost rubbing her hands in excitement.

Alarmed, I looked over in earnest for the first time: she did have a kitchen knife raised in her hand. I took my phone out of my pocket to call 911 and fumbled with the screen lock. (Argh…I thought smartphones were supposed to make life easier!)

Just as I was about to punch the digits in, I heard another gasp, and then a deflated mutter. Looking up, I saw the couple with their arms around each other. My mother took off with a violent huff, her entertainment ruined. I stayed an extra fifteen minutes and kept an ear open all night, just in case. “I think I’m gonna drop by the neighbors’ tomorrow morning,” I said casually to Dad over dinner, “just to see how they’re doing.”

 

 

Traffic Jam

Daily Prompt: State of Your Year

July 29, 2013

Write up a mid-year “State of My Year” post.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us NOW.

 

Urgency rising

As drivers loiter

And everyone seems to bar

My path –

Never mind that it’s theirs as well.

I am missing the warmth of my living room

I am missing the comfort of my sofa

I am missing relaxation, fun and

The thrill of speed

All because no one seems to realize

That they’re in my way.

They need to understand that

I have things to do

I have people to meet

I have a life to live

And I need to get on with it

RIGHT NOW

The Many Responsibilities of Black Crayons

Friday, July 26, 2013

We want you to follow suit and give us a thirty-three word piece that has a color in it.  Use the color to describe anything you like, or use anything you like to describe your color, but keep it creative and keep it short.

Black crayons

Are ground to stubs fastest,

Being responsible for:

Eyes

Limbs

Clouds

The sky’s lower limit

Shadows

(When the artist matures)

Name-writing

Date-writing

And,

Last but not least,

Fingernail painting.

Without: Neruda’s Take and Mine

Daily Prompt: Life After Blogs

July 28, 2013

Your life without a computer: what does it look like?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us WITHOUT.

This might be cheating, but I want to share a piece by Pablo Neruda that encapsulates the soul of what i want to say almost perfectly:

“Don’t go far off, not even for a day,
because I don’t know how to say it – a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in
an empty station when the trains are
parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then
the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
on the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
into the empty distance. Don’t LEAVE me for
a second, my dearest, because in that moment you’ll
have gone so far I’ll wander mazily
over all the earth, asking, will you
come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”

― Pablo Neruda

Without rain,                                                                                                    For gifts.

Drought burns.                                                                                             But a value

Without food, a                                                                                      Leftovers, trials,

Gnawing in the pit                                                                             But self-awareness.

Of stomachs; hunger.                                                                      Agonizing alone time

Without sleep, headaches                                                         But better friends. Peace.

And, without love, depression.                                          Going without means old clothes

Rainy days go from meaning  coffee and classics, to empty bottles and scraps of old letters.

A Tale of Trust and Temperament

Daily Prompt: A to Z

July 27, 2013

Create a short story, piece of memoir, or epic poem that is 26 sentences long, in which the first sentence begins with “A” and each sentence thereafter begins with the next letter of the alphabet.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us ORDERLY.

All along the end was known,

Before it even began.

Cleverness and common sense

Do not preclude ancestral fallacies,

Especially those of the heart.

Fain was he to fall for her

Given her frame,

Her response mirroring his.

Inescapable that there should be one more:

Jilted she felt, and hard done by.

Knowing the way the world works,

Lamented love’s labour lost,

Much hurt by betrayal, unrecognised as

Not of the man, but

Of the woman, friend-supposed.

Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, but

Quite obviously her long-expressed wishes were

Relegated by the heiress of affection,

Selfishly, to where inconvenient

Truths are banished:

Under the rug.

Verily the turn of events left behind a heart-

Wrenchingly desolate tale of betrayal,

eXcuse of exigency proven enough to obliterate loyalty.

Yesterday serves as a lesson to us

Zest in trust to be wrought with care.

Potions, Anyone?

Daily Prompt: Back to School

July 26, 2013

If you could take a break from your life and go back to school to master a subject, what would it be?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us MASTERY.

Oh, umm, do wizarding subjects count? Because mine would totally be potions. Stoppered and bottled magic is something we’ve all heard of and vividly pictured at some or other point in our childhood/adulthood, from The Sorcerer’s Apprentice to Harry Potter Also, I kind of always liked Chem Lab. ^_^

Course Requirements:

Textbook: Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Materials:

  • 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
  • 1 set of glass or crystal phials
  • 1 brass scales

Care to join me anyone? What would your favorite subject be?

The Effects of Friendship

Daily Prompt: A Friend in Need

July 25, 2013

Finish this sentence: “My closest friend is…”

Photographers, artists, poets: show us FRIENDSHIP.

Pinky promises,

Unbroken

Constitute friendship.

Cliched phrases, like:

It’s not what you say

But what you no longer need to say

Define friendship.

An assured listener;

Someone to come home to,

Figuratively and literally,

If you’re lucky,

Is the promise of friendship.

Someone who judges you

And tells you why

And loves you anyway

Is the hallmark of great friendship.

A sudden connection –

A sudden realization

That this is what you’ve been waiting for:

That’s friendship.

A stream of insults

That only indicate

That you have the right to mock

Asserts friendship.

Knowing, hearing rumours,

Which ones are false

(And which ones are true)

Comes with friendship.

Listening to the same thing

Ten billion times

(Well, okay, not really)

And not cutting them short

– Well, not always at least –

Shows the strength of friendship.

Promising to be there forever

Because you can’t conceive of anything less,

Or maybe because you refuse to,

The “lie”ability of friendship.

Smiling on nearing them

When you’ve had the worst day

Is why we love friendship.

In Retrospect

Daily Prompt: From the Collection of the Artist

July 24, 2013

It’s the year 2113. A major museum is running an exhibition on life and culture as it was in 2013. You’re asked to write an introduction for the show’s brochure. What will it say?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us RETROSPCTIVE.

Looking back on things

Isn’t always black or white;

No pun intended,

Although it does fit right.

We revisit time

Through  photographs and memories

And relive a revised version of life

With an increase or decrease

Always. It’s never the same:

Either we had everything

The world had to offer

Or we had zero, nil, nothing.

Sepia, in our heads

Can become vivid HD

And the finest-hued memory

House a black and white zombie;

In retrospect, it wasn’t

The end of the world, we say

But only when we have forgotten

How it felt, live, that day.

In retrospect, it was

The happiest time in my life.

No it wasn’t – you just don’t feel, now,

All that pain and strife,

Which was the most that you’d known

Back in those days

And felt as bad as the new limits

Seem to nowadays.

I say “seem”

Because even this is relative. See,

In retrospect,

This won’t be worst you will see.

But I’m not pessimistic:

No, Sir, not me –

I believe what you’ve lost

Is nothing to what you shall see.

Retrospective, Merriam-Webster says,

Can mean looking back on past situations

Or just as easily: an artist’s best work

(Over time) showed in exhibitions.

What does it mean to me?

I think it means this:

Never trust your  altered view of the past –

Alternatives exist.

Confessions of a Dinner-Eater

Daily Prompt: You, the Sandwich

July 23, 2013

If a restaurant were to name something after you, what would it be? Describe it. (Bonus points if you give us a recipe!)

Photographers, artists, poets: show us DINNER.

I love take-out too much;

I know it’s true,

But please try and keep it

Between us two.

I know I’m supposed to like

Green salads, juice and rice,

And sometimes I do –

I just like having a choice.

With turkey, stuffing and cranberry,

Thanksgiving dinners are the best

Good food has a way

Of making you feel blessed.

Did I mention I love apple pie?

I do.

I like frosting, cheesecake and cake

And whipped cream too.

After I’m done,

I look at what’s left

Ethiopia and India glower;

My clean-up is deft.

The washing and putting-away-ing

I really don’t mind:

I’m a Virgo – this job fits us in a way

That’s one-of-a-kind.

Oops I forgot again:

Dinner’s supposed to be light.

Eh, maybe tomorrow

If I’m bothered to get it right.

Also, I work just a little

Different from many –

I give my thanks,

After eating, for plenty.

I feel it then

And in that moment I know

That no joy can compare

To the after-dinner glow.

The Animal Show

Trifecta: Week Eighty-Seven

July 22, 2013

CHARM (verb)
1a : to affect by or as if by magic : compel
b : to please, soothe, or delight by compelling attraction
2: to endow with or as if with supernatural powers by means of charms; also : to protect by or as if by spells, charms, or supernatural influences
3: to control (an animal) typically by charms (as the playing of music)

 

“Mommy can we go see the animal show?”

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t encourage those scoundrels: they torture the poor animals. They’re not very nice to them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Honey, they tempt them with things they aren’t going to give them just to make them obey. And sometimes they hit them if they don’t”

“If they don’t give them the stuff, then why do they keep falling for it?”

“I guess it’s because they’re not as smart as us. They don’t think.”

“Oh Mommy look! There are my friends from school – they’re all going! Mommy, please? Please!”

“Baby…”

“Mommy, they even have my favorite act – the one where they charm a human with green paper! Can we go? Just this one time? Please?”

“Oh, alright. But this is the last time, alri- hey, come back!”