Saturday, September 12, 2020

Word Slingers, Saturday September 12, 2020

Some Word Slingers product from this morning's session and their associated prompt.

Greased pig? 

Where can I find that? 

Encoded in that phrase, some yesterdays, probably many, coming and going, peering out, returning again, disappearing again. 

If you're not lost in the archive, you haven't really visited it.

Some yesterdays are huddling for warmth, while others are contrarian and loners. 

Better to not make too many judgements, and just root around, the random walk, the drift, and leaving your wake to fractally assemble itself into... something. It's best not to get ahead of yourself.

That dog don't hunt.

 Prompt: Holding on for yesterday (song title)

* * * * *

It's a ball. It rolls, round and round.

Not just any ball, it's red and free and will certainly kill you, but in the meantime, have we got an adventure for you.

You don't have to squint anymore and the dollars seem to just keeping rolling in and vanishing (do the Martian canals really drain into subterranean bank accounts buried beneath the Swiss Alps)?.

Look up! Oops, did you drop this? It's mine now and I don't know how I got along without it. That red ball, that's opportunity and these giant silver Coors cans that look like reuseable rocket boosters are stuffed with cash. 

Dedicated to Earth-bound visionary space oligarchs everywhere.

Prompt: Life On Mars (song title)

* * * * *

Hard stop. Dark mode. Lean into it, future-focused.

Never mind someone's objective and key factors keep getting trod underfoot.

Has anyone seen a steamroller lately, or have they all been replaced by phantoms?

The horizon turns out to be the limit, to no one's surprise.  

Prompt: Don't stop me now (song title)

* * * * *

Am I ready for a brand new beat? You asking me, or telling me?

Streets? Sounds like another name for a cul de sac. Did I win anything?

Prompt: Dancing in the streets (song title)

Friday, September 11, 2020

Posting my writing on a long disused blog

Katafygia - Burden of Dreams 2019

I tried reviving my ERRguitar blog to share my writing, especially output from Kevin Bone's Word Slingers, but alas, somehow Facebook blocks that blog for non-compliance with its <sarcasm>vaunted</sarcasm> Community Standards. That might be just 'garden walls' against Blogspot or because earlier content on that 15-year old blog shared film images and sound files and could be interpreted as a violation of intellectual property rights (I think that's a stretch).

So here we go again, reviving a 12-year old blog devoted to mobile phone images. Let's see if this is more agreeable to Facebook. Why Facebook, because it's a convenient way to share links via Messenger or the FB feed directly. We'll see. Won't we?

Reviewing its history, I'd forgotten the blog was intended as a site for fellow Brand Ramblers hiking club members to post their photos via an email link. Hence the abbreviation in the URL as BRGOMO, Brand Ramblers Go Mobile. Alas, the Brand Ramblers are no more as they were associated with a now defunct software outfit based in Glendale CA on Brand Blvd. Rest In Peace and keep hitting the trail you ramblers. Low before its demise, Brand Ramblers moved onto Facebook and Twitter so the site became a place for my Motorola Razr pics which I especially loved for their skewed resolution and impressionistic rendering.

Please note that I'm posting this update on September 11, 2020 but have added in the previous 3 Word Slingers posts to their actual posting dates on the ERRguitar blog,

PS: The image is of "Katafygia - Burden of Dreams" an artwork from 2019 that I contributed to the Refuge show at Joshua Tree's Beatnik Lounge. Also note this photo is is from 2019 LG mobile phone and not a 2008 era Motorola Razr.

Thursday, September 10, 2020

Word Slingers, Thursday September 10, 2020

Some Word Slingers product from this afternoon's session and their associated prompt.

Position 9828, Kama Sutra Records Archive, September 10, 1987

Initially a vertical joining, with a consensual dip into a semi-horizontal posture. Vocalizing stops and is replaced by rapid shallow breathing, followed by a glance at the supplied lyric sheet, and a 2nd glance to the left, at the evening's setlist. Attention refocused, eye locking, the previous established rhythm suddenly stops and the position held until the lights drop. Returning to vertical, the partners turn to their right and bow at a 90 degree angle, several times, until the applause diminishes and the band strikes up the next number. 

Barry delivers a warm "Thank you" and Manilow returns "The pleasure was all mine."

Prompt: Barry Fuckin' Manilow

* * * * *

I took the fire stairs. The elevator was too slow, crowded and I didn't want to run into coworkers. 13 flights can take a few minutes and I was already running behind according the real-time updates on the Glendale Today app.

Pope mobile passing Colorado and Brand. Perhaps the waving and flower throwing would slow the procession. I still had a chance to see the Pope. It'd be third Pope sighting in the lifetime of this elapsed Episcopalian. Still, the record would be impressive for some States-bound non-believer who's never been to Rome

Exit door - Alarm will sound. 

Prompt: A Missed Opportunity

* * * * *

Danced around? Danced over? Danced through? Just danced. If you're going through hell, just dance - or so says a dub-stepping Winston Churchill. Usually in the kitchen and it was always alone, to some saltwater dub or down tempo retro-mix. "But there's booze in the blender, and soon it will render..." the lyrical hooks that "let it all hang out" welling up with the bottomless bass and layers of skittering guitar. How many times, how many ways can you be seduced to dance alone to the ridiculous? 

Prompt: I had never danced like that before

Saturday, September 5, 2020

Word Slingers, Saturday September 5, 2020

Some Word Slingers product from this morning's session and their associated prompt.

The commander would not be happy. The hab was a shambles and most of the guests had flown off, flapping their wings. Not really what I expected - this reversion to arm-flapping flight, but Titan did offer that. That and lots of methane and organics readymade for plastic habs and and other structures.

The party was for teams arriving and departing. What a mix! These are long deployments and expectations and disappointment had to be strictly managed. But the camaraderie was real and the food and beverage selection was above par thanks to the arriving team and the tradition of stowing rare Earth delicacies.

I'm staying another deployment due to a resource constraints and I'm happy for that. I could do without the jealousy of those who were departing but would have liked to have stayed over. And I'll miss my bunk buddies. 

Prompt: A Party on the Moon

* * * * *

Better late than never. Oh boy, and how.

The concert was a one-off, a one time only event of a lifetime, and the featured artists, all of them, were retiring together, going into the Hall of Memories, preserved for all time, encapsulated individually in polished brass banks that lined the walls like a 20th century mausoleum.

How could I miss this? The City has ways and it's own memories to impose on even a determined traveler. By the time I was able to extricate myself from the tube the marquee was dark. I continued my fast pace stroll up to the doors but they were locked.

A small figure in the shadow of the loading door stirred. Even with the passing years I recognized him right away. Topo Gigio, Ed Sullivan's famous sidekick. 

[To be continued? Abandoned sidekicks in the shadows. Senor Wences' Pedro and Johnny? "Deefeecult For You-Easy For Me"]

Prompt: When being late led to a positive if unexpected outcome.

* * * * *

Quantum Crayola: Diagramming made easy for 7th, 8th and 9th dimensions.

"That's not what my box says!"

"What version?"


"There you go, try one of mine. I've been modelling with just the flesh-colored one. Ha, that what I like to call the blue-green one. Reminds me of blue-green algae and soil crust."

"Thanks! Let me have that blood red one - I know what I need to do and it's not going to be pretty."

"Be my guest. Actually, keep it. I never work with blood."

Prompt: A box of crayons... possibly having a discussion

* * * * *

Eight minutes. Baby Jane Doe.

A handful of breathes, and then the long wait. Three years for the pauper grave at Evergreen, the County's own cemetery. The annual December ceremony has really grown over the last 8 years and all denominations are now well represented.

But you're a date and almost a name. One of 1400 or so others interred, the others mostly named and definitely dated as in years. But eight minutes, or the eight plus months earlier. 

Missing you.

Prompt: Write about someone you've not known personally, but has made an impression on you