Been wanting to write some stuff but have not been able to motivate myself. Writer's block that's been going on for years. So today I binged "topics for writers" and found a site with a lot of prompts. There are like 300 numbers on the screen, you pick one and it will reveal a prompt to you. This is what I got...Write something starting with this sentence: "She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled". So this is what I came up with...
CHAPTER 1
She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. Never before in her life had she taken something precious and valuable from someone else. Maybe she had good a reason. Maybe not. Either way it was done. It wasn't hard and it seemed like the right thing to do.
Or maybe that's not quite it. It was the right thing FOR HER to do. He had fenced her in for far too long. His jealousy and excessive possessiveness were too much to bear any longer. He'd tried for years to mold her into the person he thought she should be, the person he wanted her to be, and the time had come to break free.
She remembered seeing that box for the first time. He had brought it home one night after work and placed it in a drawer out of her sight. He thought she hadn't seen it. Hidden beneath layers of socks and underwear, further down beneath trinkets, electrical cords, empty plastic sandwich bags and syringes he was confident the box was hidden well enough. She would never find it.
She'd better not find it.
"What's that?" she asked as he glided through her field of vision from the hallway to the bedroom.
"What's what?" was his reply.
"What's that in your hand? Is that a book?"
He played along.
"Yeah, it's a book. I just got back from the library. Brought a few home. The others are in the car if you want to read them."
"What are they?"
"Nothing serious. I thought you might be getting restless laying about like you have."
"Well, if you were 8 1/2 months pregnant you wouldn't exactly be the most active person in the world either."
"I understand that. Why are you getting all bitchy at me? All I said was you must be bored so I brought you some ******* books. I can take them back if you want. It's not like you asked me and they didn't cost anything so I'll take them back."
"Cool down, Frito. I'm sorry. You're right. Thank you. What did you get?"
"Let's see," he said, scanning the library receipt for book titles. "I got a couple of John Irving novels, 'Dune', 'Foundation'...you do like science fiction, right?"
"It's okay. What else?"
"Uhhh, a book about Kurt Cobain, Johnny Rotten's autobiography and the latest Deepak Chopra new age self help mumbo jumbo."
He set the receipt down on the coffee table and she asked, "Okay, now you're talking. I didn't know Chopra had a new book out. What's it called?"
He had already stood up and was walking into the kitchen when he said, "I don't have a clue. That Eastern bullshit is your thing, not mine."
She could hear him raiding the refrigerator, knocking over bottles and shifting other foodstuffs from one place to another. The sound of a beer can opening let her know he'd found what he'd been looking for.
He was throwing together a makeshift microwave meal when she looked at the receipt. She really was curious about the Deepak Chopra book. She'd read most of his work he and was second only to Neale Donald Walsch in her estimation of great spiritual teachers. It didn't seem to be even the least bit odd that Stephen King was third on that list.
At any rate she perused the receipt. Hmmm..."A Widow For One Year" and "The Fourth Hand". She hadn't read that second one but if it was half as good as "Widow" she was in for a treat. She looked forward to it. Herbert, Asimov...she really did love science fiction and had done so for all of her life. He knew it so it was with a bit of condescension that she mentally chastised him for not realizing she had to have read those two books many times. Did he not know who William Gibson was? Oh, well. The Cobain and Rotten books would make up for it. At least he knew she had great taste in music. And there was the Deepak Chopra thing. It was his take on Jesus. It was a very good book. She knew this...because she'd read it years ago. "New"? Well what did he know? The extent of his interest in religion, philosophy or anything remotely related to the Almighty Existentialism was the chorus in the Doobie Brothers' song "Jesus is Just Alright". Not the words or sentiment, mind you...he was just proud of how well he sang it. It had to be admitted, though, that he indeed sang that particular song with a passion unrivaled even by the likes of Billy Graham and Oral Roberts.
She noticed then, with no small degree of curiosity, that there were only seven books listed on the receipt. Did he not read all the titles to him? Chopra, Herbert, Cobain, Asimov, Rotten and two by Irving. Seven. No doubt about it. The library's address and the date were the only other words on the onion skin paper.
So what was he holding when he first came home? Clutched at his side as if he were trying to keep her from seeing it? Another book? Then why was it not tallied on the library receipt with all the rest? And why did he see fit to bring it in the house while leaving all the others outside in the car?
No, it was not another book. Oh, it may well have been...after all he could have brought it from somewhere else besides the library. It was logical but somehow, for some reason she couldn't put her finger on, she felt sure it was something else. Something she wasn't supposed to see. Something she wasn't supposed to know about.
Indeed, she wasn't supposed to know about it. That was easy enough. Why? Who knew? One thing she did know, however...soon enough she would know WHAT it was.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Atheist Campus Crusaders - a favorite topic
This post was in response to an article in Religion Dispatches, Are Atheists the New Campus Crusaders?
(I would provide a link to the article but for some reason the site isn't loading.)
With all due respect to my friends who are atheists but I have to point out that, IMO, these non-theist college students are displaying every bit the level of hypocrisy found in many campus religious outreaches. My issue has to do with unbelievers constant complaint that Christians try to shove their religion down their throats. And it's true, that happens a lot. So the academic atheist's response? Shove their anti-religion "beliefs" down theirs. This all looks like "atheist evangelism" to me. And that very concept, as far as I'm concerned, is contradictory to their insistence that they are NOT a religion.
But what bothers me the most is what atheist crusader Jesse Galef had to say: “I don’t think it’s unfair to say that groups like (the former Campus Crusade for Christ) are our cultural opponents.” CULTURAL OPPONENTS??? I have to say it again...CULTURAL OPPONENTS??????????????? I don't discount the fact that Christians' built-in predisposition to proselytize can often come off as strategic assaults (if you've ever foolishly invited Mormon missionaries into your home you'll probably understand what I mean). But atheist evangelism has, at it's core, nothing more than breaking down and eradicating beliefs that pose no threat to them and are of no harm to anyone secure in their faith. There seems to be a distinct "meanness" in their zeal to "convert". I can't help but see them as obsessively wanting to take away something from people they look down upon (and don't try to argue that they DON'T look down on believers, because the very idea that someone needs to be changed, needs to be re-wired and de-programmed is as condescending as the old folks in the front pews tossing out the tired "love the sinner, hate the sin" saw when pressed to discuss the possibility of gays in their church).
Cultural OPPONENTS??????????????? Why is that necessary? I'm not favoring believers over non-believers. I respect the right for everyone to hold dear the principles that give their lives meaning. Just because those principles aren't always the same with each person does not mean we have to go to war with those whose experience is not our own. And it doesn't mean that we have the right to demand that others adopt our principles because maybe we've somehow deluded ourselves into thinking that those we live by are better, are more rational, are more fulfilling than theirs. I'm not taking sides here, in this monumental CULTURE WAR (??????????????????????). I'd rather be a peacemaker. The only message I have to the atheist that has it's roots in religion is "do unto others as you would have them do to you". The only message I have for the believer that has atheistic overtones is "never stop exploring, always question". Those mandates are what I want to live by. And as much as I think those principle would benefit all of humanity I can't expect everyone in the world to adopt them.
(I would provide a link to the article but for some reason the site isn't loading.)
With all due respect to my friends who are atheists but I have to point out that, IMO, these non-theist college students are displaying every bit the level of hypocrisy found in many campus religious outreaches. My issue has to do with unbelievers constant complaint that Christians try to shove their religion down their throats. And it's true, that happens a lot. So the academic atheist's response? Shove their anti-religion "beliefs" down theirs. This all looks like "atheist evangelism" to me. And that very concept, as far as I'm concerned, is contradictory to their insistence that they are NOT a religion.
But what bothers me the most is what atheist crusader Jesse Galef had to say: “I don’t think it’s unfair to say that groups like (the former Campus Crusade for Christ) are our cultural opponents.” CULTURAL OPPONENTS??? I have to say it again...CULTURAL OPPONENTS??????????????? I don't discount the fact that Christians' built-in predisposition to proselytize can often come off as strategic assaults (if you've ever foolishly invited Mormon missionaries into your home you'll probably understand what I mean). But atheist evangelism has, at it's core, nothing more than breaking down and eradicating beliefs that pose no threat to them and are of no harm to anyone secure in their faith. There seems to be a distinct "meanness" in their zeal to "convert". I can't help but see them as obsessively wanting to take away something from people they look down upon (and don't try to argue that they DON'T look down on believers, because the very idea that someone needs to be changed, needs to be re-wired and de-programmed is as condescending as the old folks in the front pews tossing out the tired "love the sinner, hate the sin" saw when pressed to discuss the possibility of gays in their church).
Cultural OPPONENTS??????????????? Why is that necessary? I'm not favoring believers over non-believers. I respect the right for everyone to hold dear the principles that give their lives meaning. Just because those principles aren't always the same with each person does not mean we have to go to war with those whose experience is not our own. And it doesn't mean that we have the right to demand that others adopt our principles because maybe we've somehow deluded ourselves into thinking that those we live by are better, are more rational, are more fulfilling than theirs. I'm not taking sides here, in this monumental CULTURE WAR (??????????????????????). I'd rather be a peacemaker. The only message I have to the atheist that has it's roots in religion is "do unto others as you would have them do to you". The only message I have for the believer that has atheistic overtones is "never stop exploring, always question". Those mandates are what I want to live by. And as much as I think those principle would benefit all of humanity I can't expect everyone in the world to adopt them.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Dream Journal - early morning, Feb. 1, 2013
Most of the dreams I have are forgotten within moments after waking. The more intense ones may last a couple of hours before completely vanishing from my memory. But the one I had last night has stuck with me all day and I think I should probably write it out as best I can.
So, it starts with me and my wife at a concert or a movie, some kind of function that requires a theater. There is an intermission and we leave each other to go to the restroom, etc. I'm standing in a stall relieving myself and there's a guy in the one next to me who is controlling the flow of his urine in such a manner that the splashes made by the stream actually have a rhythm recognizable as a well known song. I'm amazed at this talent and try to compliment him. He just looks at me with sort of a condescension in his facial expression. Obviously he has no desire to talk to me. I say a few things on the way out, all of which are completely random and have nothing to do with the situation. Instead of saying "goodbye" I say "Be-bop-a-lula, baby!"
The program starts back up but the wife is nowhere to be found. I look all over for her and ask total strangers if they know where she's at. I start to panic. Next thing I know I'm in a car with my father driving. I start to grill him about where my wife might be, convinced that he knows. He says nothing...in many of the dreams I have of him he does not say a word. I get really, really pissed off that he won't tell me. I get mouthy and disrespectful, but he just looks straight ahead and drives.
Then I realize that wherever he is going is where my wife will be. It's not too long after that revelation that we pull up to a house and he gets out, walking to the door. I do the same and all of a sudden I know where I am and that my wife is probably not there. It's my mother's house.
I walk in and there she stands...she didn't look like my mother in the dream, but I knew this was who it was. I could not help but believe that dad had taken me to her because she didn't have long to live and I just broke down, sobbing "mama, mama, mama" with my head on her shoulder. Don't know where my dad went off to, but it was at this point that I woke up.
I lay in the bed almost as if I'd had a nightmare. I tried for a long time to put the pieces together and figure out what it all meant. The easy answer would be that my relationship with my mother is for all intents and purposes non-existent and this was a precursor to the inevitable time of reckoning. Then I thought there must be some reason that dad was the one who drove me there. They had been divorced for many years before his passing but she was always his true love. His demeanor was almost solemn as he took me there. Then there's the connection between losing my wife and finding my mother. There's got to be some kind of Jungian explanation for that. As for the pissin' musician, who knows why I still remember him. Maybe it's because he was so talented.
So, it starts with me and my wife at a concert or a movie, some kind of function that requires a theater. There is an intermission and we leave each other to go to the restroom, etc. I'm standing in a stall relieving myself and there's a guy in the one next to me who is controlling the flow of his urine in such a manner that the splashes made by the stream actually have a rhythm recognizable as a well known song. I'm amazed at this talent and try to compliment him. He just looks at me with sort of a condescension in his facial expression. Obviously he has no desire to talk to me. I say a few things on the way out, all of which are completely random and have nothing to do with the situation. Instead of saying "goodbye" I say "Be-bop-a-lula, baby!"
The program starts back up but the wife is nowhere to be found. I look all over for her and ask total strangers if they know where she's at. I start to panic. Next thing I know I'm in a car with my father driving. I start to grill him about where my wife might be, convinced that he knows. He says nothing...in many of the dreams I have of him he does not say a word. I get really, really pissed off that he won't tell me. I get mouthy and disrespectful, but he just looks straight ahead and drives.
Then I realize that wherever he is going is where my wife will be. It's not too long after that revelation that we pull up to a house and he gets out, walking to the door. I do the same and all of a sudden I know where I am and that my wife is probably not there. It's my mother's house.
I walk in and there she stands...she didn't look like my mother in the dream, but I knew this was who it was. I could not help but believe that dad had taken me to her because she didn't have long to live and I just broke down, sobbing "mama, mama, mama" with my head on her shoulder. Don't know where my dad went off to, but it was at this point that I woke up.
I lay in the bed almost as if I'd had a nightmare. I tried for a long time to put the pieces together and figure out what it all meant. The easy answer would be that my relationship with my mother is for all intents and purposes non-existent and this was a precursor to the inevitable time of reckoning. Then I thought there must be some reason that dad was the one who drove me there. They had been divorced for many years before his passing but she was always his true love. His demeanor was almost solemn as he took me there. Then there's the connection between losing my wife and finding my mother. There's got to be some kind of Jungian explanation for that. As for the pissin' musician, who knows why I still remember him. Maybe it's because he was so talented.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
...from the back of the check-out line at Wal-Mart
I appreciate that you're saving $5-$10 on a shopping cart overflowing with groceries but from back here at the end of the check out line it's easy to get a little aggravated with you and your Bible-thick stack of coupons, half of which are out-of-date. For every 5 coupons that scan properly there's that one where the bar code just won't be read until you finally give up and let the cashier move on to the next one. Funny how you never look back at those of us waiting behind you, ice cream melting, milk going sour, bread molding. Is that guilt that won't let you turn to the right to take in the sight of all the coupon-less shoppers whose patience was tested, long before getting into this line, by the mind numbing process of Wal-Mart shopping? It's not as if you don't save a dollar on a dollar-fifty bag of donuts with their "everyday low prices", you have to kick in a coupon for a dime off because, hey, it all adds up. Don't be such a cheapskate, man. Do your part just as we do, small as it is, in helping build back up the nation's dying economy. I know, it's almost like being tortured to have to give your money to Wal-Mart and I don't blame you for wanting to skim a tiny portion off the top, even if it's only to rankle the boys down in Arkansas. But for God's sake, we've got things to do, places to be. The magazines they put in the aisles to sell, Barnes & Noble style, are all lame and most of us wouldn't be caught dead reading the Enquirer or the Globe in public. There's nothing to do besides grumble and resent you holding us up, knowing that all the other lines are just as long and who knows how many of them will be populated with even more bargain busters each one wielding "War and Peace" sized stacks of coupons, all wrinkled from being stuffed in a purse with all the other useless crap, making the bar codes even MORE difficult to scan. Here's the deal, lady. Me and my friends here, at all points in the line behind you, are willing to throw together $5.00 CASH if you'll just forget about all the coupons. Let me re-iterate, that's CASH, doll. Mean green. You can take that to the casino and walk out with a whole butt load of money. Or you can buy a Happy Meal and sell the toy on eBay for a hundred bucks. $5.00 will buy you a copy of Vogue so you can sit back and salivate over all the fashion accessories you might could have bought with the money you saved at Wal-Mart...but WAIT! You can't get you no Gucci with coupons from the Sunday Oklahoman. Christian Dior and Tommy Hilfiger (sp) don't make no "$75 off" chits, now do they? Ma'am, take my advice. Cash is the way to go. And you might say that $5.00 doesn't seem like a lot when you consider how much money you'll save on Great Value Hominy, or Clabber Girl baking powder, or a Banquet liver and onions TV dinner, or a 12 roll family pack of John Wayne toilet paper... Great deals, I agree. I do love me some Bar-S bologna with Ramen noodles. But just take a look at the fine print on any of those coupons. See? "Cash value of coupon is less than 1/100th of a cent". Looks to me like $5.00 would be a real windfall for such petty work as snipping little rectangles out of newspapers and magazines. $5.00. It's what we have for you. Take it and accept out deepest gratitude. But if you refuse I guarantee you will never be forgiven when some proud-parent-to-be can't make it to the hospital in time to see the birth of his first child for no other reason than that he needed a can of discount priced Skoal and you held up the line. Selfish. Shame, shame, shame. $5.00.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choirs
Watch these. An incredible idea realized. Try to hold back the goosebumps the first time you hear the Virtual Choir during Whitacre's TED Talk. I'm late jumping on this bandwagon but oh well. Something completely original always gets me excited.
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