The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
Sometimes a Tie Isn't Like Kissing Your Sister (Sometimes a Tie is Awesome)
Scary Story Contest 2020: The Safety Dance vs. The Chinese Curse
This year's theme was "It's Perfectly Safe" and I had no desire to write anything, let alone a fully developed short story. I was sick of screen time because of the technological soul-sucking abyss of hybrid school. Stacey and I usually collaborate, but we couldn't find time to flesh out her idea.
So instead of a story, I wrote a scary poem. I framed it as a Facebook post, ostensibly written by a woman who thought she might have some magical powers and wanted to use them to change the course of this fucked up year. Over the course of the post, she descends into madness (of course).
It was fun to write, but, I didn't realize how hard it would be to read. The poor lady who was randomly assigned my piece (Cunningham) nearly descended into madness trying to perform it. I snagged third place, which was an accomplishment-- the stories were really good this year.
Here it is-- I think it's both appropriate for Halloween and the looming thing which may not be spoken of. If you like it, post it on Facebook . . . maybe it will work.
The Chinese Curse
What’s on your mind, Blair?
video photo feeling
What’s on my mind? Do you really want to know, Face-suck?
Or do you just want to mine my data?
What’s on my mind?
The Chinese Curse, that’s what. May you live in interesting times.
October 31st, 2020. Interesting times. Four more days until the election. Two more months left in this mess of a year.
Interesting times suck. I can't get them off of my mind. Or out of my mind.
But maybe, I can change things. Have some control. Do some lexical magic.
At least over you, my so-called Facebook friends . . . in my so-called life during this so-called pandemic. Maybe you’ll pass my incantation along and this year will turn itself inside out.
What if I could cast a spell?
Dissipate this weary hell?
I should at least give it a try. My mom used to do tarot readings. I might have some kind of gift.
Hocus-pocus, maybe I can learn to focus?
Zuckerberg’s clairvoyant vision
Find this with your algorithm:
Make my post go super-viral
Pull us from this deadly spiral.
It was the year of twenty-twenty,
It is the year of twenty-twenty . . .
Twenty-twenty, twenty-twenty
Why do you rub me
in this way?
Why can’t you love me?
You push and shove me
Day by fretful day by day.
Boil and bubble, Trump is trouble,
O Lord don't let him win the double
Yes! Let my soul turn to lead
and sink to hell if he were dead.
If he were dead, if he were dead.
Banish these thoughts from my head!
My busy brain should not be fed
By such bitter vengeful bread.
Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies
covid covid we all fall down . . .
Safety, safety, safety first
Safety dance, the Chinese curse
Living safely is the worst
But is it better than the hearse?
Lady liberty not Trump tower
Used to give our country power.
Hippies filled their hair with flowers.
Now . . .
abortion makes Coney Barrett sour.
Blues and reds, they all glower--
Children at the border cower.
They say the pen is mightier than the sword.
But what if the Populus is polarized and bored?
Pandemic, plan-demic
A fiction Democratic.
You have my word
November third
It disappears like magic.
Meatpackers work, shoulder to shoulder
The policy gets colder and colder.
Carcass, virus,
virus, carcass . . .
Cut that meat or they will fire us.
Covid covid, we all fall down.
Black lives matter, blue lives matter,
George Floyd’s ashes we must scatter.
Pitter-patter pitter-patter
The blood of Rayshard Brooks did spatter--
Tasers, guns I’ll take the latter.
Breonna Taylor’s door got battered.
Some say the world will end in fire,
But for migrant workers,
ICE will suffice.
That’s great, it starts with an earthquake,
Birds and snakes and aeroplanes,
Dave Chapelle is not afraid
Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn
While the outback burns and burns.
It’s the end of the world as we know it,
Grandma don’t feel fine at all.
Covid covid, we all fall
down.
Fly of Pence, tongue of Stone,
Bannon’s nose hair
Kushner’s throne
Ivanka’s fabric
Mnuchin’s money
Tongue of Miller
Pompeo’s arm
Mix these for a deadly charm.
Yes! Let my soul turn to lead
and sink to hell if he were dead.
I make this bargain readily,
Like Faustus with Mephistopheles . . .
I wear my mask and then I sneeze
Don’t stare at me, pretty please.
Here we are now, entertain us.
TV shows to make us famous,
Social feeds will try to change us
We bare our souls, can you blame us?
Bail out the airlines and the banks,
To Donald Trump we give our thanks.
The rest of us must share the wealth--
And hope he subsidizes health.
Plumes of smoke, tear-gas, fire
Men in armor, guns for hire
We're all so very very tired
But am I preaching to the choir?
Twenty-twenty when you end
Will our fractured country mend?
Or have we gone around the bend?
I see two paths, both portend.
Yes, two roads diverged in yellow wood . . .
One repulsive, one not so good
Three roads, four roads, five roads, six,
There will be no easy fix
Epstein’s minors turn their tricks.
Safety dance, safety first
Safety is the Chinese curse
Will November make it worse?
What rough beast slouches towards Washington to be reborn?
Once I pondered weak and weary, on a scientific theory
Then I learned of QAnon and thought: “Fuck yeah! IT IS ON!”
Now I fight the pedophiles,
Me and Trump, we do battle
The rest of you are sheep and cattle
Do your research on Seattle
Protesters, they mass and gather
Law or chaos, would you rather?
Widening on the turning gyre,
the center cannot hold
Things fall apart, it’s getting cold
The virus once again grows bold
Airborne particles
Fake news articles,
Winter is coming, enjoy the carnival.
My thoughts grow wild, I can’t control them,
I wish that I could turn them off,
I wish I were allowed to cough
I wish that I could turn them off
I wish I were allowed to cough
until my lungs come out my ears and throat
The devil is inside a goat
Bubble, bubble Trump is trouble
Will he be elected double?
Twenty-twenty, a dozen more?
Will he change the terms to four?
Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan
Let’s enact a travel ban!
Illhan Omar and AOC
Want us all to work for free.
Socialism . . . not for me . . .
We mourn the mighty RBG.
Twenty-twenty, you have offended,
But in a year, will all be mended?
Perhaps we have just slumbered here
While these visions did appear?
No . . . this is no idle theme--
It’s not a dream, it’s not a dream
I give you full consent to scream.
Stop these thoughts, away begone!
Yet they continue on and on . . .
What’s on my mind, Facebook feed?
I can’t choose which way to proceed.
I cannot do a single deed.
I’m paralyzed and by booze and weed
Safety safety, safety first
The safety dance, the Chinese curse
Living safely is the worst
My brain won’t stop until it bursts.
I poke and scroll on my phone
There’s no such thing as home alone.
O lord I feel so weak and weary, fatigued and futile, eyes so bleary,
My mask lies soiled and forgotten, dirty, dusty smelling rotten
Fallen from the special spot on my car mirror to the floor--
Now I need it, I must retrieve it, I’m on an errand to the store.
But can I enter? Dare I enter? I do not want to touch the door--
The doorway entrance, a deadly sentence, full of germs I can’t ignore.
What’s on my mind?
Only this and nothing more.
Facebook-- make this post go super-viral,
Release me from this deadly spiral,
I’m feeling mad, my mind is wild,
Like a surly red-faced child--
I want to stomp and throw a tantrum--
Redrum, redrum! REDRUM!
Murder mayhem bloody-mary
Twenty-twenty, you shock and scare me
Like some spider black and hairy.
I can’t sleep my way through this disaster
Twenty-twenty: you are the master
Of my whirling anxious brain--
Release me from this grisly reign.
Dash these thoughts against the stones,
Let them live among your phones,
Free me from these dreadful times
Cast this spell, release these rhymes.
What’s on my mind, what’s on my mind?
It was the year of twenty-twenty,
It IS the year of twenty-twenty.
Only this and nothing more.
Post
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Ten Years of Scary Stories!
Another excellent Scary Story Contest last night, the tenth one . . . so the prompt was "Ten Years Later" . . . Stacy and I had to cut A LOT of words on Friday-- the deadline day-- in order to get it under the limit (2000) and though we didn't win, I'm very proud of how we pared down our piece, which was a 2030 Ten Year Reunion of the Class of Covid . . . and no one wanted to go, aside for murderous insane reasons and thinks got very very ugly (I was especially proud of my VR idea . . . someone had downloaded everyone's high school photos so everyone wore VR goggles and you appeared as you did in high school, which was cool-- aside from the fat girl with acne who lost a bunch of weight and kicked the drugs and sugar that were giving her skin trouble-- she was really angry that everyone was seeing the high school version of herself instead of the big reveal) and while our story got a lot of laughs, it was not the winner-- Cunningham won again, this time with a photorealistically described tale of a pair of hoarders, one of whom was dead and the other was arguing with the skeleton over the same stupid shit for ten years; I read Liz Soder's tale of a chimp named Garbo who led an absoutely inhuamne life in a lab-- and she came in second; and there was also a sell your soul to a healer/preacher/devil tale by Mooney; a tightly plotted Goonies style international mystery by Eric and a disturbing tale of molestation and revenge by Liz . . . I'm always impressed by how excellent the stories are and we've all gotten really good at plotting and developing under the 2000 word limit . . . and it's really a treat to get your story read aloud by a new reader . . . so thanks to the Soders for hosting, and for all who wrote and all who attended . . . it really is one of the best social events of the year.
Which is Scarier: President Trump or a Creepy Clown?
I Like to READ Stories
Tomorrow is the 10th Annual Scary Story Contest and Stacey and I are still way over the word limit on our story and we are giving up and going to bed . . . we will finish this thing on the clock during school tomorrow-- and thus be professionally paid writers-- and I can't wait to get upstairs into bed and read my professionally written novel Countdown City . . . because I truly enjoy reading fiction far more than I enjoy writing it, and this stupid contest makes me appreciate the time, energy, logic, revision, editing, and passion that goes into writing a great book.
Fall Break Coronavirus! Whoo!
Fall Break was off to an auspicious start-- Friday afternoon, I participated in the 9th Annual Scary Story Contest (and took third with my scary poem!) and Saturday Cat and I were about to attend an outdoor Halloween Party when I got a text from a JV player informing me that he had tested positive for covid (and so had his entire family . . . they were getting hit pretty hard by it) and so I switched from party mode to contact tracing mode . . . luckily, the player was very responsible and stopped coming to practice right when his mom grew ill, so the last contact was eight days prior-- but the head coach and the AD and I still had to make a spreadsheet of emails, inform all the players and the administration, and tell folks that we might have contracted the virus . . . the JV team ended up getting quarantined for six days-- which would be fourteen days from the initial contact-- but it was highly unlikely that there was any spread since we were outside and no one had any symptoms . . . my family got tested, just to be on the safe side-- we went to a fairly grubby old school doctor's office in a desolate strip mall-- lots of old leather furniture, a big fish tank, and yellowed linoleum on the floors-- and we had our first experience with the nasal swab . . . it wasn't too bad (I said I would do it again if someone paid me $20 and Cat and the boys said they would do it again for $5 . . . I said I don't need $5 dollars that badly) and we all turned out negative . . . we got results in 24 hours; hopefully we will get back to soccer at the end of the week; in other pandemic news, I bought a portable cheap exercise bike from Amazon, so we could ride it while we watch TV-- I think it's going to be a long winter-- and for 104 bucks the thing is miraculous, but they didn't ship us the seat, so while we wait for that, we duct taped a bunch of towels to the metal frame where the seat is supposed to go and that works pretty well.