Don’t Know Why, But I Like It – Friday Fictioneers

What is today? Wednesday!  What does that mean? Friday Fictioneers!  Why is Friday Fictioneers on Wednesday?  To confuse you!

I received this lovely picture by Ronda Del Boccio, chosen by our lovely leader, Rochelle and cannot lie… I scratched my head.  There were a few ideas that came and went but everything I came up with felt like something I’d done before so I sent this pic over to my friend, Marc, for inspiration.  And he delivered!  Dunno that I did it justice or not, but hey, I did the best I are 😉 Let us just say I have gone outside of my norm and a tad more whimsical than usual.

Think you have a better idea, or, let us not be negative, another idea?  Then do click on the blue frog below and add the link to your own 100-word story! Would love to read what you write (coz I do read them all…)

©Ronda del Boccio

      Click me!

Don’t Know Why, But I Like It

Enjoying the cover of night, Penny Quillo made her way along the forest edge, searching for berries.

A light appeared out of nowhere, blinding her. Cowering in fright, she froze upon hearing footsteps approach. She felt a pinch in her leg, and all went dark.

When she came to, Penny surveyed her surroundings and realised she was safely back deep in the forest, unharmed. She sensed, rather than saw, a blinking light behind her.

Twisting her head, Penny noticed a bunch of twinkle lights ‘decorating’ her quills.

“What? Who would do such a thing? It’s kinda pretty though…” she preened.

 

Weekend Writing Prompt #99 – Anathema

This is not a word that finds its way into my everyday jargon.  Always fun to challenge myself in various ways.  Thank you, Sammi, for providing that challenge!

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

Word Prompt

Anathema

Challenge

you think you will get into my good graces

pretending to be someone you are not

charming me with your fabulousness

insincerity dripping from your tongue

what you haven’t the sense to understand is

this is anathema to me

give me your honest, goofy, true self

authenticity, with all its foibles

wins

No Strings Attached – Friday Fictioneers

Ya know when ya have an idea in yer head but it won’t go down on paper?  I think I finally sorta got it down.  This week’s lovely picture was donated by our lovely Sandra Crook.  Thank you, always, to Rochelle for hosting this fantastic challenge.  You’ve got me thinking in 100-word stories, Rochelle!  When I write anything else, I almost feel like I am rambling.  Okay, maybe I am.  But here.  HERE, I learn how to reign it in!

Should you want to try your hand at telling a 100-word story with beginning, middle and end, do click on the frog below and add yours.  It’s great fun and is so addictive.

Click Me!

No Strings Attached

“C’mon, Bobbie-Sue. I like you so much. We already kissed, why can’t I touch ya?”

“Billy-Joe, you been tryin’ to touch me since we were fifteen!  Why now?”

“Coz you know I’m right for you.  Nobody else can take care o’ you, like I can.”

“I ain’t ready to be tied down.”

“I promise you, no strings.  And I got protection.”

“All right then.  I’ll give you one night.”

The stars were out in the sky and in both of their eyes that night.

***

“No strings, Billy-Joe?  How about an umbilical chord?  Now you HAVE to take care o’ me.”

Celebrating a Friend, Dancing with Leonard and Random Act of Kindness

This thing we have has been going on for a few years now.  I’m still in awe at how life’s cards get shuffled and played.  Julie has made a regular appearance on this here blog and today I feel like adding just how much I appreciate our friendship.  It’s funny.  We went to high school together but were never in the same class (she, with the brainiacs; me, with the troublemakers), didn’t do sports together or hang out together but were friendly without being friends per se.  A few years ago, I found out we were in the same kindergarten class!  Not that either of us remembers the other from then.

We had high school reunions and saw each other at those but I feel it was especially after the 150th anniversary of our school (September 11, 2005) that we really started to connect.  She, at the age of 40, had recently become a widow with two young boys, ages 2 and 3. Her story was so tragic.  Her husband was hit by a car in downtown Montreal.  It’s ironic to say now, but I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, then.

Julie and Martyne, Liette and me

Back in high school, Julie and Martyne were good friends, Martyne and Liette were, and still are, best friends and Liette and I were good friends and participants in sports – handball, basketball, volleyball.  Somehow, Julie and I have since become great friends.  I love her to bits.

After this particular get-together, we met for lunch and realised we had a lot in common.  Vive Facebook for keeping us connected.

I was shocked when she showed up at Mick’s funeral because we still weren’t where we are today.  But, having been through what I was going through, she felt compelled to come.  I can still see her walking towards me with her beautiful, warm smile and remember it taking me a few extra seconds to register who she was.  That whole unexpected/out-of-context thing.  From this point on, things changed.  We now had another thing in common. In the past couple of years we have become more than just “cultural chicks”.  (I think we just use those events as excuses to get-together because often times, the best part of our afternoon or evening is the connection we have by sharing stuff.)

Speaking of which.  This time Julie is the one who snagged a couple of tix for a show without knowing who would accompany her (yeah, right!)  Those tickets were for Les Ballets Jazz de Montréal (BJM), Dance Me, music of Leonard Cohen.  After holding on to those tickets for one year, the night finally arrived.  We met upstairs from where I was supposed to park.  How in-synch are we?  Neither had her coat.  We both assumed we would eat at one of the restaurants in Complexe Desjardins (where I parked), which we did.  One of the many great things about Montreal is the possibility of making our way underground from one venue to another.  After a shared plate of calamari, our salads of ahi tuna and a glass of wine, we made our way back to Place des Arts.  What fantastic seats we had!  Row F, seats 1 and 2.

No zoom – pretty darn close

Of course, we had to do our usual “us” shot 😉

What. A. Show.  Especially since the last three ballets we saw were less than stellar.   BJM gets criticized for having no soul or emotion while being very energetic and athletic.  I beg to differ.  Obviously, the music was sublime.  The costumes were sobre, pantsuits in blacks and greys, long beige shirts and one in a burgundy dress.  Discussions were had with Leonard himself when the dance company secured the rights to use his songs and he requested they keep his personal life out of things and just focus on the music.  I think they did so brilliantly.  As in most dance creations, there are always little parts that make me wonder where the hell they got that idea from but that in the end, I care not because it is breathtaking to watch.

“Dance Me to the End of Love” had particularly frenetic movements that worked well.

At one point, one of the cast members sat on her knees, a guitarist stood behind her and she sang the sweetest rendition of “So Long Marianne”, not a dancer in sight.  So beautiful.

“Lover, Lover, Lover” was rather humourous.  One male dancing with one after another woman until he falls in exhaustion.  His fellow men come and help him as he regains his strength.

And what can I say of “Suzanne”?  It was sultry and evocative.  I was totaly entranced and was surprised to find myself with tears in my eyes.  I was a good girl and filmed nothing so all I can do is show you a snippet…   Just know that once he picked her up, her feet did not touch the ground until the end of the song.  Insane.

The did not only use Cohen’s older music.  They used three songs from his last album “You want it Darker” including “Steer Your Way” and “String Reprise Treaty” as well as the title song.

Of course they did Hallelujah… This time sung by a male singer, with the same woman offering her sweet soprano for the Hallelujas…and the dancers slowly appeared.  Just sublime.

The set, the lighting effects, the dancers, the music.  Brilliant.  Honestly, one hour and twenty minutes of non-stop bliss.  For this show, we never doubted we got our money’s worth.   It has been playing for a couple of years now, touring all over, and if it comes to your neck of the woods, I would not hesitate to recommend it.

We made our way to the exits, still wrapped in the music and the movement, the chatter around us adding to the buzz. Julie insisted we must make a pitt stop.  We made our ways to the ladies’, sure the line-up would be atrocious, but it turned out not too bad.  And suddenly I got the most intense burn that went from my back to my chest, up to my throat.  This was a whole ‘nother level of heartburn.  Julie could see in my face that all was not well and concern immediately transformed her face.  “Are you okay?”

“Holy shit this is painful,” I grimace.  “Why, oh, why do I not carry ‘Tums’ in my purse?”  I am taking deep breaths, hoping the pain will subside but it is not working.  I scare the shit out of Julie when I say, “You know, women are more likely to feel major heartburn when they are having a heart attack.”  Of course I don’t really think I’m having a heart attack but… I bend over in pain then stand upright, trying in vain to will this agony away.

The lady in front of us in the line-up turned to me and said “I do.  I have some.”  She took a bottle out out of her purse and tapped out two tablets into my hand and then a grey capsule also came out. “Take this as well.  It is charcoal.”  And I know, from my grandmother’s preference for treathing anything naturally, that this is not a bad thing to take.

My gratitude to this generous stranger cannot be suitably expressed.  I gratefully accept her gift, dry-swallowing the charcoal capsule then crunching the two tablets and continue breathing.  By the time a stall liberates for me, I am feeling better.  The pain subsides ever more as Jules and I make our way to the exits.

In the lobby, there is a sculpture that fascinates me every time I go to this particular hall.  I cannot believe I had not photographed it before.  And what did I do this time?  Yes, I did.  BUT, I forgot to get the name of the artist and no amount of Googling at this late hour is helping.  I guess I’ll just have to return and get that info.

We went our separate ways and once settled into my car found that I felt pretty normal.  Got home and shortly thereafter received a text:  “Are you feeling any better Cara? You had me worried there.”

I responded that I had me worried there!

Got another text checking up on me this morning.

 

True Colours – Friday Fictioneers

What day is it?  Wednesday!  What’s so special about today?  It’s the first day of spring!  And?  It’s Friday Fictioneers Day with none other than yours truly’s photo taken on New Years Eve.  So what do I do?  Tell a story about July, 1995… because yanno… why not?  Plus there was a ferris wheel – just not this one and there were fireworks so…

Thank you, always, to Rochelle, for keeping us coming back week after week.  Of course, when you use such fantabulous photos 😉 … I jest, of course.  Do join in on the fun, why don’t you?  Just click on the blue froggy below to add your link.

True Colours

What a great date that was.  They took his old, navy Celebrity, parked in the shopping centre and walked to and across half the bridge. A couple of miles of hand-holding, laughter and getting to know each other better.

They rode rides like a couple of kids, not thirthy-somethings.  They ate junk food and rode some more.  They watched the fireworks from the bridge in the rain.

Walking back to the car, they laughed and kissed and held hands.

In the trunk of that old Chevy was a blanket and sweatshirt.

She knew then he would always keep her warm.

 

 

Keepsakes – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #18

A little later than I wanted to, but hey, c’est la vie, eh?  This is Crispina’s fun challenge that is not too restrictive.  For rules and regs, the few there are, just click here.  That should show you the “what’s what”!

I don’t know why I keep on trying my hand at poetry – must be because I find it so bloody difficult! Funny how we do that to ourselves.  I must have a masochistic streak in me.

Keepsakes

Together they stand, by row, side by side

Some inconspicuous, others with style

They vary in size, some short, tall, some wide

What resides within may, or not, beguile

 

So what do they hold, you can’t help but ask?

Something most evil or wondrous and bright?

These bottles, they are, each used as a cask

For loved ones, held dear, now gone from my sight

 

Each one is a cask, but what lies within?

Their spirit, their souls or maybe just ash?

A bit of each, does this make your head spin?

I feel they deserve a bit of panache

 

Their time on this Earth is sadly no more

A symbol for each is all that I keep

They are not forgot; some stories of lore

I smile when I see them, I no longer weep

 

Can’t Help Myself – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday,, my peeps!  The sun is making a feeble appearance today.  Will it stay? It’s early-ish yet.  Oh wait, I just looked at the forecast.  Rain is coming in to help melt the snow… and cause more lakes and more ice and more… How about we forget the weather and tell a story instead?  Today, I have gone Rochellian in my attempt.  So thank you, Rochelle, for inspiring us to write better, in a more concise way.  This week, our leader has chosen a photo from Anshu Bhojnagarwala, so thank you, Anshu for allowing us to use your photo as inspiration.

©Anshu Bhojnagarwala

Get the Frog for your Blog

Can’t Help Myself

“Glenn! You must stop humming while you play! The microphone is picking it up and ruining the recording.”

“Sorry. I’ll start again.”

“Good. Whenever you are ready.”

Bach’s Goldberg variations resumed as only he could play them.

“Dammit!”

“I know.  I don’t like it and I can’t stop it. Honestly, I would resent any other artist did it. I know it’s a terrible distraction.  But my playing will never be as good without a few vocal elaborations. I don’t see why anyone puts up with it. Shall we continue?”

Glenn Gould’s humming can be heard on most of his recordings.

An early recording of a young Glenn Gould.

In later years you needed a good set of earphones.  If you wish to take a glimpse of the older Glenn Gould, click here.