Inspired by a Daily Prompt from the Daily Post:
Your local electronics store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy, and why?
The Anywhere Door makes the most sense. Vacations would be so much easier (and cheaper with
the reduced no travel expenses!)
I could go with the iDoor 7, but it’s way overpriced. I’ll stick with the simple and uber-portable model: the There and Now.
The directions would go something like this: Continue reading
Sometimes I watch this scene when I’m feeling pessimistic because I can’t think of anything to write. It’s like lighting a fire under my own ass. It’s from the movie, Adaptation., which follows a screenwriter and his struggle to adapt Susan Orlean’s book, The Orchid Thief.
From the clip:
Nothing happens in the world? Are you out of your fucking mind? People are murdered every day. There’s genocide, war, corruption. Every fucking day, somewhere in the world, somebody sacrifices his life to save someone else. Every fucking day, someone, somewhere takes a conscious decision to destroy someone else. People find love, people lose it. For Christ’s sake, a child watches her mother beaten to death on the steps of a church. Someone goes hungry. Somebody else betrays his best friend for a woman. If you can’t find that stuff in life, then you, my friend, don’t know crap about life! And why the FUCK are you wasting my two precious hours with your movie? I don’t have any use for it! I don’t have any bloody use for it!
What’s the one piece of advice you wish someone had given you a year (or five, or ten…) ago?
Someone must’ve said this to me at some point, and I probably rolled my eyes and went back to wallowing in whatever daily worry I had planned. I worry too much. It’s a symptom of trying to plan out the future. I find I spend more time fretting over what’s coming than what’s happening, right now, in front of me. The What Ifs and the consequences I dream up for them make some decisions harder than they are by nature. It’s good to anticipate the outcomes, but it’s easy to let them taint the good times ready to be enjoyed right here, right now.
In response to a Daily Prompt by the Daily Post.
–wait for it–
I was flipping through WordPress and found this flash fiction story by Mark Baron, and it inspired this little photoshop* job above. I call this masterpiece “Have You Met Bob?”** and it takes place a few nights after the end of the story.
*If anyone has any photoshop tips, please share!
**I’m patiently waiting for the final season of HIMYM to hit Netflix. I know the HIMYM finale left some of you a little bitter, but don’t spoil it for me!
I went to the Grand Canyon last spring, and when I returned, I learned that I lost seven pounds. It was understandable, because there’s a lot of walking to be done at the Grand Canyon.
It’s a big place (see banana for scale)
You can choose the easy route, which is a paved walkway set yards from the edge and follows the rim’s curve, or you can choose the slightly more hazardous one, which is unpaved, narrow, and often a foot or so away from the drop-off. Of course I chose the hazardous one, because I was at the Grand Canyon, dammit, and I could walk on pavement at home.
In short, the Grand Canyon was a very spiritual experience for me, but I’ll post about that later.
Skip forward a year, and I’m 60 pounds lighter. My mortal enemy is a can of Deluxe Mixed Nuts. Any brand. Preferably Lightly Salted. No Peanuts. Peanuts are the raisins of mixed nuts.
I can’t get enough. They sit on the counter and call my name. I get home, and I’m munching on them 10 seconds later. Nuts are good for you, but not with the amount I eat.
I think, don’t sabotage all the work you put in! but then I go, I lost 60 pounds! I deserve delicious whenever I want it!
Inspired by the Daily Prompt from the Daily Post
“There are too many ideas and things and people. Too many directions to go. I was starting to believe the reason it matters to care passionately about something, is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size.”
from “Adaptation.” (2002), screenplay by Charlie Kaufman
William had just turned 12 and was breaking in his new bike by parading it around town. Heads turned as he zoomed past, but instead of their awe, he felt their disgust. People didn’t like him, and he knew it. He sensed their stares as he went by; although their lips never formed the word, he felt it from their eyes.
William sped through town. He rode until the pavement disappeared and he was crunching over twigs, until the world sloped downward toward a lonely creek. He stopped short of the water. He was safe. The creek wound through three acres of private woodland, and William, friendless, planned to spend much of his summer in its isolation.
He staggered to a rotting old footbridge, took a knee, and peered underneath.
“Hey, Arnie! Hey boy!”
A small, dead beagle stared at him with a gelatinous eye. Its legs bent at impossible angles, scratches marred its face, and its coat squirmed with maggots. A leash dark with dry blood fastened its head in place. Continue reading