Assignment #1

Yes, that's right.  In addition to setting up this public space, my wife is helping me further by giving me assignments.  Everyone should have a wife as wonderful as mine.

Seriously.

Assignment 1: Write a dialogue in which God explains to "Dave" that he has decided to end the world and has chosen Dave to warn people.  Unfortunately for God, Dave is unconvinced of who he is talking to.  100 words or less.  Due 12/20.

--What are you doing, Dave?

-Man, when you say it like that it gives me the creeps.  Make me feel… like I’m doing something wrong, Like I’m about to be eaten by a Super Computer.  Ya know?

--(grins) Sorry.   I mean, what’s up?

-Too much, I’ve to my Aunt to take care of, my neighbor’s dog to take to the vet, my best friends brother just got evicted for drinking the rent money, so I’m cleaning a room for him. And there are already 9 of us in the house.  Swamped.

-- How’s the family?

-Well, if my son doesn’t have the dishes washed by the time I get home… I should call him right now.   (dials)

--Dave, doesn’t it get to be too much?  You ever count the cost?

-What do you mean?  (in the phone) Where are you?

--I’ve decided to end it all, Dave.  The world.  Over.

-So you are God, now?  (in the phone) Isn’t there something else you should be doing?

--Yes.  On both counts.  I need you to tell the world, give them some time to think about it.  OT style.

-(in the phone) I don’t care what your sister is doing! It’s what you’re not-- 

--Will you do it?

-(gestures with the phone, pointing at it, glaring, while the voice pleaded on the other side; in the phone) I am your father!  I don’t care if the world ends in 5 minutes!  Do it! (slams the phone closed)

--Will you?  If you won’t, there is no point to continue.

-Can’t you see I’m busy?  I’m already late.  (gets up)  Why am I humoring you?  Stop pretending to be God.  It is sacrilegious. (the phone vibrates)

-- There is nobody e—

-(in the phone) What.  YOUR son is not liste –

Poem: Modernity

Modernity, you come to me crowned Caesar

Into Rome.  Triumphant, lacking shame,

With captives in your train.  But who these two?

High Ideals of antiquity brought low.

The first, the large and noble Chivalry,

Graceful in even defeat, against whom

Your power first arrayed.  His field well chose

And perilous, his fellows strong of arm,

Lady at his side.  Who could best this hero?

Modernity, master trickster, General sly,

You spoiled his game.  For what in nature is fair?

Does Darwin fight one to one?  Or Hawking

Bide his time to let the foe arise?

His destrier unburdened bucks and rears

With echoing report.  His lady glares

With feminist zeal and the smoking discharged gun.

Mighty Progress!  Peerless seducer proud!

A grinning toast to you of blood red wine.

Modernity, let me lay this laurel wreath

Of conquest on your twice victorious brow.

The second captive, mocked in porphyry stands.

No open field hosted bent Romance's fall,

But subtle plotting, sweetly intricate.

Your genius elevates your foe in screen

Until his risen fame has climbed so high

That leity dare not to hope his grace

receive.  And in between his hight and those

Courageous lies a tangled forest you've sown.

Here model nymphs and lusty displays blink,

And beckoning beats and siren's song entice

To dance and grind in boiling seas of limbs

Entwined in mirth.  Where moans of parting legs

Replace the sighs of parting lips at the sight

Of roses.  Where once the fire kindled bright

By blushed breaths of poets inspired dreams,

A four alarm blaze of obsession now frights.

A shout and shot of Chambord, I toast you, victor.

But hold before you rest, finish what you've

Begun, and root your enemy out, he thrives

In me.  Your time now, your chance, my strength

Vainly used in brave sorties uncheered

Returns to hide entrenched behind these walls.

Assay these weary defenders, call upon

Your vassals and tributes all.  Gather your pow'r,

Your host entire charmed, and battle this influence.

Should I survive my cloven heart's collapse,

The battle won, I'll toast with glistening eyes

And hemlock true, your latest, greatest, victory.

Once upon a time....

This blog was actually started for me by my lovely wife (actually the one typing this right now, pretending to be Bart) and our wily dog-beast (lending his support at the moment by not snoring too loudly).  I have always been a writer at heart, but I haven't taken the time to actually write in a long, long time.  Why?  Two reasons, really: 1) life gets in the way and 2) writer's inertia.  This blog represents a commitment to writing regularly, even if just a little bit each time, to get myself back in the habit.

Shannon (the wife) set up this blog without my knowledge as a birthday present.  It was an act of both coercion and love.  Love more than coercion.  I think.  I've owed her a story for a year and a half, and she's getting impatient.

On that note, let me begin.  When I actually know that this exists.  Which won't be for another 12 days.  In the meantime, Shannon is posting one of my old poems that she has access to.

Cheers!