Prosaic License

Monday, August 5, 2013

Trifecta: Week Eighty-Nine

1: lacking strength: as
: deficient in physical vigor : feeble, debilitated
: not able to sustain or exert much weight, pressure, or strain
: not able to resist external force or withstand attack
: easily upset or nauseated <a weak stomach>
2a : mentally or intellectually deficient
: not firmly decided :vacillating
: resulting from or indicating lack of judgment or discernment
: not able to withstand temptation or persuasion <the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak>
3: not factually grounded or logically presented <a weak argument>

“Hey, so should I go for something that tastes rich or something that’ll keep me awake all night?”

“Can’t you get one that’s both? I think I’ll go with the generic one – much cheaper.”

“Okay, I think I’ll get this one.”

“Which one’s that?”

“Awake-all-night coffee. Obviously. It looks like it’s pretty easy to make too.”

“Looks weak to me.”

“Huh?”

“The coffee beans are not, factually, grounded. And since you’ve been overworked recently, need sleep, and are only buying that to be able to stay up and watch TV, your choice of coffee beans was presented to me without the application of logic. Your illogically presented coffee beans that are not factually grounded are, therefore, weak.”

“Oh Lord, you’re working on a Trifecta post again, aren’t you? Also, it’s ground. Coffee beans are ground, not grounded.”

“Pfft. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. And so what if I am?”

“No, levi-oh-sa, levio-sah. Especially given that you think language is your forte.”

“Bah, humbug.”

“Hmm, is that an admission of defeat I hear?”

“No. I’m just trying to remember what else was on the shopping list. Which you forgot at home.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“What? I am!”

“Weak argument, Bro. Real weak.”

“…”

Health, Wealth and Wisdom

Daily Prompt: Barter System

July 8, 2013

If the world worked on a barter system, how would you fare? Would you have services to barter? Would you be successful, or would you struggle?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us SKILL.

Since I was a kid (especially when I was a kid, rather) I was enthralled by the idea of the barter system. I thought it was almost a game, setting values for a particular item with respect to each and every other thing.

e.g.:

one horse = two cows

                      = two goats and a kid (the goat kind)

                      = 4 bales of hay

                      =5 bushels of corn

…or something like that, at any rate.

As I got older though, I realized that that’s not so much different from what we do now with money. For example, if a t-shirt is $10, and a pair of jeans is $30 , then you’re technically saying: 1 pair of jeans = 3 t-shirts. BAM. Barter System.

Not being a born bargainer, I think I’d probably be a bad barter-er. I have a hard time even understanding the simple

early to bed, early to rise = healthy, wealthy, wise

A Symphony in a Breath

Your Daily Theme  [Figment]

for June 18
 
It’s Only Natural
 
Get inspired by nature, and build a poem or story around something from the natural world. It could be something as majestic as a mountain, or as simple as an acorn you found in your backyard.

Stepping out

Of self-imposed quarantine

Something seemed

A little bit different.

The air was like frigid water

Thrown in my face.

It tasted like mint strips

Melting on my tongue.

It smelled like grass,

Freshly mown and alive

With the crystal-clear water

It was fed.

It felt like every cell in my body

Went from flaccid to

Kool-Aid refreshed turgid

In the time than it took

For me to draw a breath

Like water from a well

Or a painting

With ice blue, lime green

Lavender and yellow.

So there is something you can’t get

On the internet

After all.

 

Link to my original piece on Figment:

http://figment.com/books/658938-A-Symphony-in-a-Breath

 

Long Days and Lullabies

This week’s Trifecta Challenge:

CLUB

1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games c : something resembling a club 2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs 3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic <nations in the nuclear club>  

[See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/06/trifecta-week-eighty-two.html#comment-form]

Ray was exhausted. His top-level corporate job had paid for his lifestyle, but left him with very little time to spend with his son, Jason. He sighed. He’d have to make a better effort. Starting tomorrow. Today, all I want is a glass of…

“Oh, you’re home,” El called. She kicked her heels off and sank into the sofa.” Rick called today- he wanted to remind you about some concert thing planned for Saturday. Macklemore.”

Ray started. He’d forgotten entirely. He and Rick had spent their entire adolescent lives idolizing him. When they’d heard that this tour was to be his last, Rick had persuaded him to buy front-row tickets.

When he looked up, she’d fallen asleep. Poor thing. Covering her with a blanket, he headed for the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

Just as he reached, he heard noises from Jason’s bedroom. “Hey pal,” he said, finding him awake. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I had a scary dream…I want Mommy to sing a song,” he said, eyes wide.

“Well, Mommy’s asleep, so how about I sing you a lullaby tonight?”

“M’kay,” mumbled Jason, happily. “Now, what am I going to sing for you today?” he wondered aloud. Is it too late now to call Rick? The concert is on Saturday.

“Mommy sings me songs from when she was a kid,” Jason murmured.

I remember my first concert, thought Ray with a smile.  We used to sing along to “Thrift Shop” all the time back then.

Almost without realizing it, he found himself humming it. “I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket…” He grinned; lowering his voice, trying to disguise it as a lullaby, he continued, “Walk into the club, like what up I got a big – ” Oops

“-cork,” he completed, flustered, darting a glance at his son. Had he noticed? But Jason lay still, already asleep. Ray felt his throat constrict. “I promise I’ll be home more often,” he whispered fiercely to his sleeping son.

—————————-

So this is the short version. Initially, I got carried away and wrote around 750 words before I got a friendly reminder (thank heavens for those!) that it was way over the word limit. Still, I have a soft corner for the original, so I decided to add it below, just in case anyone’s interested in reading it.

Turning the key to let himself in, Ray made straight for the living room and put his briefcase down near his favorite recliner. He was exhausted. His top-level corporate job had paid for his house, his cars, and (he suspected) had also had a small role in his getting his wife. Unfortunately it left him with very little time to spend either on his hobbies or with his son, Jason. At three years old, Jason was reaching that age when parental presence (or its absence) sets the tone for their lifelong parent-child relationship. He sighed. He’d have to make a better effort. Starting tomorrow. Today, all I want is a glass of…

“Oh, you’re home,” El called by way of welcome, standing in the doorway, laptop bag in hand. Her job in the media kept her, if possible, even busier than his kept him. Elizabeth kicked her heels off and sank into the sofa, flexing the soles of her feet and moaning with relief.

“Long day?” he asked.

“You bet,” she said, closing her eyes. “Right now all I want is some sleep.” She settled in deeper into the sofa. “Oh, by the way, your childhood friend Rick called – he wanted to remind you about some concert thing you had planned for Saturday. Macklemore’s Grand Finale apparently.”

Ray started. He’d forgotten entirely. He and Rick had spent their entire adolescent lives idolizing him. When they’d heard that this tour was to be his last, Rick had persuaded him to finally give in to impulse. Together, they’d bought front-row tickets for the concert. Right now all I want is some sleep, he thought, echoing El.

“…but I need to watch the LVBN ’26 Awards thing,” El was saying. “It’s supposed to be on tonight. I need to,” she yawned,”make sure…,” another yawn, “that….” yawning again, she drifted off to sleep.

He smiled. Poor thing. Getting a blanket from their linen closet, he covered her, dimmed the lights, and headed for the kitchen to pour himself a drink before calling Rick back.

Just as he was tilting the decanter, he heard the sound of something expensive (grimace) falling. Eyebrows furrowed, he put down his glass and stepped out into the hallway. He’d updated his security system just a month or two ago; it was a pretty expensive one too.Just to be on the safe side however, he grabbed a steel ladle from the kitchen before heading down the hallway.

Peeking into the living room, he saw Jason standing there, teddy bear dragging, blinking sleepily, and inwardly sighed with relief. “Hey pal,” he said, squatting down to his son’s level. “Couldn’t sleep?” He sheepishly tucked the ladle behind a wooden table nearby.

“I had a scary dream,” he pouted, looking up. “I want Mommy to sing a song,” he said, looking worried, eyes wide.

“C’mere,” said Ray, standing up and lifting his three-year-old into his arms. “Mommy’s asleep, so how about I sing you a lullaby tonight?”

“M’kay,” mumbled Jason, already burrowed happily into his father’s shoulder.

Laying him on the bed, Ray tucked Jason into his solar-system-themed comforter. The absence of Pluto still irritated him all these years later.

“Now, what am I going to sing for you today?” he wondered aloud. Is it too late now to call Rick? The concert is on Saturday. Two days away.

“Mommy sings me songs from when she was a kid,” Jason murmured, snuggling into his pillow.

I remember my first concert, thought Ray with a smile. I had to practically sign my freedom away to go see Macklemore, me and Rick both. We used to sing along to “Thrift Shop” all the time back then.

Almost without realizing it, he found himself humming it. “I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket…”

He grinned, realizing how much he’d missed Macklemore. Lowering his voice, trying to disguise it as a lullaby, he smiled at Jason and continued, “Walk into the club, like what up I got a big – ” and stopped himself just in time. Macklemore isn’t for lullabies, what’s wrong with me?

“-cork,” he completed, flustered, darting a glance at his son. Had he noticed? But Jason lay still, already asleep. Listening to the sound of his son’s steady breathing, Ray felt his throat constrict. “I promise I’ll be home more often,” he whispered fiercely to his sleeping son. “I love you.”

Pulling the door closed, Ray went through his phone’s contact list till he found the name Rick.

Breathtakingly Alive

Daily Prompt: Singin’ in the Rain

June 15, 2013

Safe inside, toasty warm, while water pitter-patters on the roof… describe your perfect, rainy afternoon.

 

I’m sitting at my dining table,

And I think I forgot to close the window

Because the curtains are flying

And there is water

Everywhere.

Monsoon wind swirls and gusts are life-giving,

Invigorating, in the face of summer heat.

I’m curled up with Harry Potter again –

I’m sorry if it looks like I’m ignoring you

But I’m not really here anymore;

I really didn’t hear you.

My stomach interrupts me though,

So I blast my DVD player all the way

With a mix CD from two years ago

Signed by a friend,

And sing like no one ever has before

Because no one ever has.

And I get my poncho, chocolate,

Sunflower seeds and soup

Because tea is hard to get just right

And sweaters and coffee are too cliché.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/06/15/daily-prompt-rain/

His World

The First Thing
 
Write out a person’s day in terms of the first things he or she does. An example is provided below:
The first thing she did each day was stretch her toes over the edge of her mattress. 
The first thing she saw was her reflection in the pink vanity she’d gotten when her career aspiration was “princess.”
The first thing she ate each morning was an English muffin, pooled with melted butter.
The first thing she put on was her silver locket.

The first thing he did on waking up was to give that baby dinosaur screech-grunt, stretching as if to make his 6’ 6’1”.

The first thing he wore was his gleaming wristwatch, a reminder of paternity and duty.

The first thing he did after leaving his room was to wake his kindergartner up with a kiss on the forehead, reminding him of happiness.

The first thing he ate was a bowl of Lucky Charms, an unshakable habit since age six.

The first thing he saw when he left the house was the world; and when he came home: his world.

Link to my story on Figment:

http://figment.com/books/647890-His-World