Lived Through This

The lasting effects of being betrayed by your mind

I was so excited for New York City.

I had been a few times before, and so the standard tourist attractions were not my concern. This time, as a newly blossoming chef, my focus was more singular. In spite of my floundering bank account, I had eight restaurants with a combined 14 Michelin stars in my sights.

It was going to be epic.

The night before my departure, I dreamed of vintage champagne, briny caviar, seared foie gras, braised pork belly, sweet buttery lobster, and silky Bordelaise. Mmmm…

So much for dreams. …

Short Story

A humorous story of love and tolerance while traveling

Rachel swears she likes to travel. No matter that she is deathly afraid of flying, does not enjoy trains, is prone to seasickness, and saving the particulars for later, detests my driving. Motorcycles? No way. Buses? Rather not. Subway? Out of the question. Mopeds, skateboards, zeppelins? Nope, nope, nope. Biking is good. Walking is better. Funny thing, though, she rides her bike on the sidewalk and walks on the bike path. This is a personal pet peeve of mine and seems dangerous, but to her, it makes perfect sense. Forget the wide-eyed, terror-stricken pedestrians who unexpectedly find themselves in the path of her blue mountain bike as it barrels towards them. She just gives a little ring ring of her pink bell, they narrowly escape by diving into the bushes, and she pedals on. I gave her that bell one Christmas as a cute stocking stuffer, unaware of how many lives it would save. I deserve a medal. …

Creative Writing

A short story of regret

He was certainly no stranger to booze, but to call him an alcoholic was absurd. How could she say that?

As Huff wheeled the old Toyota into the unexpected parking spot in front of The Dog, he began to construct his defense by recounting her family history, which was infused with alcohol-related disasters.

A fucking ultimatum? Who the hell did she think she was? Unbelievable.

He walked in to the usual lineup of regulars at the bar and the constant variation of look-alike tourists sprinkled at the tables. Even in this tiny neighborhood bar, which held no more than thirty at its capacity, two worlds operated in parallel. The locals at the bar gave the tourists the satisfaction that they had stumbled upon one of Monterey’s secret hideaways, feeling included by association yet rarely attempting to interact. This was probably due to the barrier created by the indifference the barstool occupants showed for the rest of the place. …

Religion

Existential thoughts from Notre Dame

Ornate wrinkles tumble down wise, old walls near the cathedral’s core, quietly dispensing peace to those who stop to listen. I join them for a moment, in yet another attempt to reconcile my Catholic upbringing with my distaste for corruption and hypocrisy.

As the Canon-clicking hordes push by to get their next forgettable photo, I concentrate on the history engrained in the ancient stone before me: the conflicts of men, the cries of the persecuted, the prayers of lost souls, and the questions of hesitant believers. …

Cultural Commentary

A “Boomer” observes the younger generations

Waiting for his order to arrive, Julian texted his fam, “Do u think she’s dtf Coop?”

“Idk. Hoping. She’s hot af,” came the reply.

Thierry jumped in, “Facts.”

“Total snacc. If u pull her bruh, Im unfriending u no cap,” Julian threatened.

“Same,” agreed Thierry.

Cooper, smirking, clicked in “Dead.”

Blaine stopped scrolling Insta and added, “What’s the tea on Jake?”

“Over. Hundo P.”

Suddenly, an audible voice jerked all four heads from their screens, “Who has the tacos?”

Julian raised his fingers slightly. Three burgers and the tacos landed.

Faces downward, phones momentarily aside, the friends ate in comfortable silence. …

On Poetry

Capturing the complexities of being human

There’s something nearly indescribable about the sweet smell of night-blooming jasmine — its intoxicating fragrance, like no perfume could ever replicate.

I think it’s because it comes over you all at once, surprising you with its powerful awakening, every time.

In summer, on an after-dinner stroll about the neighborhood, you’re suddenly enveloped by it. It perks up your senses as you stop to wonder “Oh, what is that?” before remembering how jasmine works its pollination magic at night. Closing your eyes to inhale deeply, you try to take in every flower’s offering.

All this from a single scent.

There’s something nearly indescribable about the downy feel of lamb’s ear — its velvety softness, like no other foliage could ever replicate. …

You’ve satisfied a poem’s form, but is it worth reading?

I don’t like haiku
because most are poorly formed
trivial at best

then there’s your tanka
that wasted my precious time
stop pumping them out
it’s just haiku with two more
and yet you’ve still said nothing

There’s also a limerick form.
Five lines with some rhymes is the norm.
A laugh at the bar,
some take it too far,
but oh what a treat to perform!

Another form of the poem,
Considered by some quite ho-hum,
Requires a two-way thinking,
Over and down cross-linking,
Spelling out one while telling the rest,
The firsts add meaning to what’s expressed. …

Just for fun

How many songs from a single artist can you fit into a story?

UPDATE: I will find your entries and link them at the bottom of this story. Return anytime to read other people’s take on this fun challenge!
LATEST STORY ADDED: 13 Dec 2020.

Staring down the barrel at 40, I said, “I don’t feel like an adventurous pirate anymore. I don’t want to be the oldest surfer on the beach.”

My friend replied, “What you need is a change in attitude. It’s ok to grow old but not grow up you know.”

I pondered that advice for a minute, and then I jumped up and shouted, “You’re absolutely right! Maybe a change in latitude will do the trick. …