games…

I like to play games with people.  Specifically, games that other people do not realize I’m playing.  For instance…
While sitting at a red light, I inch forward.  I do this in the hopes that the person behind me will follow suit.  Almost every time they take the bait and pull forward.  If you look in the mirror, you will see that the person does this without thinking.  Talking on the phone, scolding the kids, or just spacing out, it is always fun to “fish” for the mindless driver.
What kind of games do you play with people?

Greg

The Grocery Store

It’s the floor, if you want to know, and the way the rubber wheels squeeze against it. The splotchy patterns, dark ones and light ones at random. And the scuff marks. Everywhere. This floor could never be clean, could never have been new. It must have come from the factory like this, scuff marks included.

It’s the carts, really. The thin metallic sound of them being filled, stacked, emptied. The way they scream with every movement, like someone playing drums at 3am. And the flip down plastic seat with the ineffective advertising. That’s where I put my yogurt.

In truth though, and I mean this, its the smells. Not just the variety, but the way the smells mix, mingle, and marry to form brand new smells: Clorox Meat. Clorox babies. Clorox Crackers.

My head is spinning.

But seriously, and absolutely most of all, its the music. It’s Olivia Newton John. It’s  me in the backseat of our mini-van on a long car trip, I am 7 and my dad is singing softly along to “Sam”, and our car, for some reason, is filled with meat, babies, and bleach.

Greg’s First Post

Have you ever been stricken with the thought of something to write and the description was so vivid or profound that you find yourself saying it out loud?  How about a rhythm or riff hits you over the head with such a fervor that you start catching odd looks from other people in the room as you realize you are playing an air-instrument?  What about getting in the great debate between Cannon and Nikon and feeling actual hatred for another human being?  That is passion.  Passion for your art.  Weather it be writing (fiction, non-fiction, poetry, etc.), music, photography, or some other form of art, this is a place where we will make and post more and more.  Enjoy.

Greg

The Puppets

Move the camera 3 feet above their heads

20 or so hands come into frame

This one goes up, that one goes down

Up

Down

Up

Down

.

Then,

The music swells,

The cymbals crash.

.

And 50 hands join the others.

Held high with puppet strings.

And the puppeteer,

taps his toes with the kick drum.