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…

Keeping within my seemingly new methodology of no longer using pages for these entries (fewer clicks equals more clicks!), following is this week’s 100 Word Song

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He would ofttimes find himself sitting idly by the dock, dipping his toe cautiously towards the tide, wondering if it would ever hold him again.

He could still feel the water beneath his feet. Or rather, himself weightless above the waves, as one minute he realized himself rushing towards his friend, the next drowning in trepidation.

How could he have faltered?

He was the only man who would ever know the feeling. It had been a simple, albeit brilliant mistake, one that would eventually serve for the remainder of his days, as a nagging reminder of his lack of faith.

•••

This week’s song was chosen by Linda:

Playgrounds.

This is my first attempt at actually linking the song used, making it integral to the story itself. I’m not too sure how well it worked – please let me know your thoughts.

Standing at the fork, he stared resolutely into each direction, attempting to discern the good choice from the bad.

After all, that’s the way it always worked with this tired cliché, wasn’t it? One direction would surely lead to paradise, the other, to certain death. Which was which this time, he wondered. And more importantly, which was the more preferred of the two?

His teeth clamped down hard on the spare reed that sprang jauntily from his lip as he considered his options. It in itself being a mere passenger, provided no help in guiding him towards a decision as to which path he should choose.

He was confident that simply turning tail and going back was not an option. All the stories that needed to be told there had already been. All the experience, knowledge and adoration to be garnered from that place and time, had long ago been harvested. No, “back” was now a tapped out tired, “used to be.” No more real anymore than the hair that was now vacant from his glistening head.

Caressing his weapon of choice, he somewhat nervously wiped the sweat from his brow, while acknowledging that not moving in either direction would only serve to guarantee his fate. They were watching, and would sooner – rather than later – pounce upon one who was idle. Especially if they felt that he was weak or undecided.

Sucking in what could very well have been the last gasp of air he would ever enjoy, he shrugged the shiver from his spine as he boldly strode off towards the right, only to stop several feet in, as he unexpectedly recalled an old song he used to know. Tracing back his steps, he then double-timed down towards the leftwards path, smiling treacherously as he hummed along…

My apologies for the video, much like my story, this was the one chosen of the only two versions – both poor representatives of the song – available for play in the U.S. Smart move, record label marketing department.

Briefly… The Fay Moore Song Prompt edition

You knew it was coming. You heard the wind slapping itself madly against the window of your mind. The memories, now turning crimson and gold, now in the wind, dead, now gone, trampled under foot.

You knew it was coming, because you’d seen it before. “Not me,” you said, just like all the others, the “not-meers” who came before you, all of whom disintegrated in the final scene.

Your sun burnt hands begin to shiver as the cold sets in. Your sun burnt hands… are they yours? Are they someone else’s? The memories drift farther away as your mind recedes into it’s own dark closet, the black hole that is slowly eating It’s way outward.

The winter song becomes louder, blaring its rickety tune. It’s calling for you now, you know. One last memory before you heed its call – leaves, drifting by the window, leaves tumbling, red and gold…

•••

My Blogging Buddy Fay Moore was nice enough to use my suggestion for one of her ongoing song prompts. In a rare example of not being a total and utter douche (and because she usually otherwise uses songs that far exceed my ability to play along), I decided to throw in my two cents on the matter this time. I was about a sentence in when I realized that instead of the love lost I thought I would be writing about, my 150 words (I’ve no idea – 150 just sounded about right) would be instead about the good people in my life who I’ve seen fight, suffer with, and die from Alzheimers disease. You knew me without ever knowing me, but this is for you, Jack.

Now, here’s Keely and Louis, performing the bestest version of “Autumn Leaves” that has ever been slapped down on wax: