Briefly…

The words I want to write, I shouldn’t. So the words I want to write, I won’t. But the words I want to write, are the only words available just now in my little head, and they steadfastly refuse to allow any new visitors to come in until they’ve had their say.

And that, my friends, leaves me in a bit of a pickle.

Now mind you, I normally quite like pickles, especially if their refrigerated and crispy-dill (mmmmm, pickles…), but in this instance, I am none to fond. Honestly, I feel as if writers block is an easier ailment, as it is with that, then at least you know that there is nothing to say. A mental ghost town so to speak, where normally words and ideas are busily bustling about their day.

So whatever this thing is called (literate-logjam? post-pickled?), I was very glad when Leeroy came along with a 100 Word Song that I could have some fun with. While not a particularly huge fan of The Cure, this choice provides plenty of play space, and we even get to break with the 100 Word Rule (for this week only…!) and use a “wrong number” word count instead.

All good signs, so I’m going off on a bit of a diversionary and unbeaten path for a spell here, hoping that in doing so, I – as RuPaul has so famously said – “don’t fuck it up.”

Here is this week’s 100 Word Song.

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“Is there room in your life for one more trip to the moon?”

What?

I said…

No, I heard you. What did you mean by that?

Oh, nothing.

I was just wondering if that was what he sang just now, and if so, what it meant…

Got me.

Got me too.

Hey, do most of our conversations go like this?

They totally do.

They do.

I like that, though.

I do too.

So, what do you think it means?

That we talk like this?

No Silly! The lyric!

Umm, I’m thinking that it means he wants to go to the moon again with you.

Would you?

Would I go?

Yeah.

Maybe not with him, but sure. There’s always room for another trip.

That was pretty cool, what you did just there.

Bringing the conversation full circle.

Yeah, I know. I do “pretty cool” all the time.

•••

Briefly…

Oh daddy, you soooo can NOT dance.

‘Ey mate. Nice dancin’ out there.

Yes I can, sweetheart.

Hey, thanks.

Umm, no. No you cannot.

‘Ad the girls really goin’!

But check out my…

Yeah, right…

Don’t you even!

No, really! Kept it lively, fun.

You do know, it was I who taught you how to dance.

You can only attack life in joy, or as a chore, right? I chose the former.

Well maybe, but that was a long time ago!

Well it was great.

And…?

I had fun, thanks.

And you’re too old now!

Neva’ too old not too, right?

•••

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Two separate conversations, intertwined. The first between my daughter and me, the second between Australian pop star Cody Simpson and the self same me again.

While the first chat could happen on almost any given occasion, its counterpart resulted from my recent need of part time employment to supplement my income (or as I like to call it, “Career, Pt. 2”). This brought me in contact with Mr. Simpson, as the soul barrier between him and 500 screaming ‘tweens – armed only with safety scissors and a smile. My control of these jibbering masses, through dancing about and joking with them, was noticed and remarked upon by Cody and his handlers, and it was their comments in general that formed the (mostly) fictional chat I had with him above.

Fortunately for some (and sadly for others I suppose), Deb did not choose any Cody tunes for the 100 Word Song prompt this week (click the link! Play along!), so we’ll be listening to One Republic’s “Counting Stars” instead.

Peace. Rest in it, Mr. Elmore Leonard.

Briefly…

I know Leeroy, I know – you hate me now, and maybe you’ve even forgotten who in the hell I am, as it’s been so long since I played along. Look, things have been a little weird lately, OK?

And speaking of weird, when someone as delightful and awesome as Jen picks something as delightfully weird as The Flaming Lips for the prompt, how can I NOT throw in my dime this time?

So, here’s my head-full-of-fluff-and-other-things take on this week’s 100 Word Song...

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Like Godzilla triumphant, with each blow either he became weaker, or she became stronger.

None too sure which was truer, it was a fact that his barbed-wire lips had dulled to the point where the words that escaped them now simply tugged on her soul, versus ripping it to pained shreds.

Odd how it occurred… the realization that the one who wrote the script, set the scene and assigned the marks, could no longer control all the actors upon the stage.

Like Yoshimi victorious, she rose to the challenge, and in the final scene, found that she’d held the day.

•••

This is dedicated to my dear sister Renee. Another Yoshimi, who likewise is poised to in short order, arise victorious.

Mirrors (3rd & final attempt)

Listen. I have to tell you that this was a very hard one to write, and it ultimately took me three attempts and a missed due date, in order to record something “post-able” to the general public.

The third volley is the one shown below, but you can find both the first and the second attempts right here.

A caveat: While I feel very confident about the readability of these earlier efforts, they could be taken much more as personal than mere fiction. And, since there are those who would do ill with these words, had they the access, I do have this other post password protected. Simply email me (troypea@ymail.com) with your blog address in the subject line however, and I’ll be glad to get you in. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy all three…

Copyright - Douglas M. MacIlroy

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

From the other side of the mirror, he turned away. Expunging any tears remaining, he donned his wings just prior to taking Flight.

A flight delayed because he’d felt somehow obligated to “go down with the ship,” dismissing the idea only when he realized, the damned thing had no reason to sink in the first. No, it was being actively drowned, through an angered force of will emanating from the opposing side of said-same mirror.

Looking once more at the demise being created there, he heard the vast horizon of Rebirth once again calling to him, and finally he flew.

•••

This has been yet another 100 Word Song and Friday Fictioneers mash-up, and the song was chosen by Deana: “Mirrors,” by my future husband, Justin Timberlake.

PS: Best of luck to all my Bloggin’ Tribe having fun at BlogHer ’13! I hope to see you all at next years shindig, so save me a shrimp or two, would ya?

 

Briefly… The My Three Adoration edition

Simon’s 16 years-old.

My first-born, when he was first born, lay there on the heating-table as the nurse looked to me, saying “He’s yours – you can touch him.” I recently introduced him to the (somewhat painful) world of job applications, though it feels as he was only born a few years ago.

Simon has the power.

Hannah’s 15, and Hell on Wheels. Hell. On. Wheels. A strong young woman who desires popularity, while understanding the power of true friendship. She’s gonna dazzle the world with her persona, a trait she gets – oddly enough – from me.

Hannah has the power.

Ian’s 13. “Last but not least” never had a truer ring, and to me, he’s a Heart Of Gold on two legs – two very short legs. He keeps us four in check, making damned sure that I’m always on top of my game.

Ian has the power.

I named them with the following criteria – each should have names rooted in biblical history (“Ian” being Gaelic for “John”), and none should have names that could be altered in common conversation.

GIKids

All three bless my Life.

All three lift me.

All three have the power.

And all three,

Will someday use it.

•••

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Three (3) notes concerning this post:

1) This week’s 100 Word Song prompt was chosen by Linda Roy (who has the bestest business cards ever!) – “People Have Power” by Patti Smith.

2) Losing all punk rock cred, I never actually was that much of a Patti Smith fan. I mean, I caught “Because The Night,” and thought to m’self, “Well, that was rather nice,” before moving on. Hey, it happens. Truth be told, I wasn’t all that sold on Iggy Pop either.

3) There are three people in my life who continually inspire me, unconditionally love me, and make me a better man by their mere presence. They are currently walking with me through the hardest challenge of my adult life thus far, and I felt it was once again time to give them their due respect. Even IF I blew the 100 word limitation by a straight 100% in the process. Being their dad is never a pain, and always a pleasure.

3.5) Well. I suppose we can all safely assume that that last bit is a *touch* over-the-top, unadulterated and biased b.s., right…?