Monthly Archives: February 2012
Lipstick and Bruises
Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/slither/
“Stop, stop, stop!”
The manager held his hands in front of his body, palms showing, with a grimaced face. Helene rolled her eyes and strummed several chords on her electric guitar. It produced loud feedback. The manager glared at Helene then addressed all three musicians.
“What’s going here?”
Sadie took a step toward the manager, gripping her bass guitar and forcing a smile. Her pale face reddened with embarrassment and Helene shot her a look of disapproval. She still spoke.
“What do you mean, I thought we sounded great. We tore through three songs really well?”
The manager glared at Helene as he answered Sadie.
“You sounded good but the feeling in this room is awful. You girls act like you’re punching the clock. So, air out whatever this is and get back to what I used to see and hear.”
Helene turned off her amplifier, unplugged her guitar, and leaned it against a stand. She walked three steps backward, placing herself directly between Sadie and Mara, then barked at the manager.
“You’re not our shrink. That contract we signed didn’t even say you had to be in the same room with us when we rehearsed. So, give us a few minutes while we talk as band and we’ll let you know when we’re ready for you to watch us.”
The manager wiped a bead of sweat from his large forehead and ran his small hands over his gelled black hair. He picked up three sheets of off-white paper and handed them to Sadie. Sadie took one, balanced her bass guitar against her waist and handed the other two pieces of paper to Helene.
“I’m going across the street to get something to eat. That your set list. You can move Slither to the top if you want, that sounded good. You’re playing three originals sprinkled throughout seven covers. If the crowd likes you, you can play whatever the hell you want for an encore.”
He strode to the loft’s front door. Helene shook her head and shouted.
“You took off the Ramona Gallery song and replaced it with Liz Phair? No fucking way!”
The manager turned around with dark, violent eyes but before he could respond, Mara stood behind her drum kit and wise-cracked.
“Maybe you should’ve stalked Liz instead. Then we’d all be happy, right now.”
Helene threw her paper to the floor and jumped at Mara. Mara’s foot was caught inside the drum pedal and Helene’s right forearm caught Mara on her right cheekbone. They tumbled behind the drums and Helene threw several punches. Screams of “crazy bitch” and “fuck you” flew around both of them. Helene felt the manager’s arms lock around hers and she let him pull her away. Blood trickled from Mara’s mouth. Sadie cried out.
“What is the matter with you two? A week ago we were a band! Now we’re three bitchy hating little girls! Just stop it!”
Tears streamed over Sadie’s freckled, pale face. Helene knew how emotional Sadie was and disliked fighting. She often refereed Helene and Darcy’s arguments. Helene pointed her left finger at Mara but before she could answer, Sadie yelled.
“No, it’s all of our faults, Leney! All of us! We don’t talk. I know Darcy fucked up but you shouldn’t have just taken that apartment. And Mara, what do you do? You take up for Darcy and she fucks you over every time! Who cares who Leney is seeing? She was late and she sucks for that but we sound great and we’ll sound great tonight!”
Sadie was bawling. The neck of Helene’s t-shirt was stretched and the strap of her bra showed. She pulled the t-shirt up to cover herself and turned to the manager.
“Seriously, dude, just give us a few minutes. I’ll call you and tell you when to come back.”
After the sound of the loft door closing, Helene walked over to Sadie and threw her arms around her. The embrace was full. Helene craned her neck and her green eyes glanced at Mara who licked blood off of her fingers. Mara joined them in the hug. Helene pulled away and sat down on speaker.
“We can talk about Darcy until we’re all blue in the damn face but it won’t change the fact she chose drugs over us. I’m just trying to survive, that’s all. I stumbled into this great guitar playing gig with Ramona and things happened. I haven’t even figured out what those things are. But I’m committed to Slipper Socks Medium.”
Helene look at her blue and white electric guitar, standing alone in the middle of the floor. She realized she’d just told a lie.
This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. Your can read the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ I’ll laso linking up with Katie’s The Lightning and the Lightning Bug “Commitment” prompt. This fits well http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/2012/02/flicker-of-inspiration-linkup-39.html
Today’s song is something I was listening to when I wrote most of this. The lyrics fit. It’s about a girl outgrowing a guy or in this case, a girl outgrowing her band. Here’s Lipstick and Bruises.
Dimming of the Day
Another week of really spectacular creativity among 100 Word Song players. We didn’t as many entries but we did have amazing quality. I really liked what The Robot Mommy did with her interpretation. Everyone really went out on unpredictable limbs. But the one that just twisted my ehart into shapes and made me tear a little was ther first ever personal post for 100 Word Song, jester queen’s touching take of a rough day as a mother called LOST:
The day after I wrote the story where a five year old nearly drowns, I lost Sam for twenty minutes in the Tennessee Aquarium. Irony much? Intellectually, I knew there was no way he could get at the tanks. Everything was encased behind a wall of glass, and no child could sneak through those locked doors. But before security found him two floors above me, trying to escape and get to the car, I ran repeatedly past the same spot, each time looking up into two stories of light infused water, expecting to see my son’s green-coated body floating down.
So I asked jesterqueen to pick this week’s song and she chose something I imagined she listened to after that bad day with her little boy. Her hand wrapped up in his, treasuring the moments she has with him from then, on. She picked a lovely, but sad song called Dimming of the Day. It was originally written and performed by the ex-married couple and music duo Richard and Linda Thompson in the mid 70s. The Corrs do a good version of this touching song. The one I’m most familar with and I confess I’ve played during rough spots in my life is from Bonnie Raitt. Her guitar and vocal masters the emotions of the song. Also, it fits my story of Violet and her dad. Here’s my 100.
Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/02/27/sweet-disposition/
He caught himself slipping on the last stair when the cell phone buzzed. She was calling again. He jogged to the dancing gray square on the kitchen table.
“Sorry Gus. Vi and I made tacos and then she had a thing.”
He cringed before his sister-in-law Augusta’s response.
“Vi is a thing! I’ve been texting and calling for 2 hours!”
He sniffled and she heard.
“I’m sorry I worry. You need to start going with me to the support group. At the end of the day you need more than me and a teenager to talk to. There’s one tomorrow night.”
As always, the rules are simple. I give you a song. You give me 100 words inspired by it. We come back next Tuesday with a new tune.
Here’s the amazing Bonnie Raitt. Play it over and over then give Leeroy and I your best 100 words. Thanks for playing. Tell a friend or 50, please.
Sweet Disposition
The tan line on his left ring finger had disappeared. It had been three months and four days since her death. Standing over a kitchen sink, he was mesmerized at the ease with which the soapy water trickled over his unadorned hand. When he’d worn the ring, months earlier, he’d take it off to wipe the film that formed when he cleaned with his wife. Words she would say during those moments sang through his mind.
“I hate it when you take your ring off. It feels like you’re not mine for few seconds. That breaks my heart.”
He swallowed hard. Violet spoke over his right shoulder.
“Dad, I’ve got so much homework. It’s so ridic. Can you finish the dishes?”
He bit his bottom lip and placed a washed plate on a white towel layed across the counter. His chest heaved and he responded in a stutter.
“Vi, I, uh, I would, um, like to go see your mom tomorrow. Will you go with me?”
The prospect of her saying no or him breaking down in tears wasn’t something he could endure. He refused to turn around. Violet’s answer was a small hush.
“Yes.”
He waited until Violet’s bare feet stopped making squeaks on the hardwood floor before turning on the water. Her cute steps soothed him. After several minutes of washing and drying dishes, cutlery and cups; he turned off the water and heard faint laughter. It sounded like his wife’s. He began a slow stride toward the middle of the house and almost said her name when he realized it was Violet. Their laughs were identical. Then he heard Violet say, “Oh my God, Davey!”
He clenched his fists and muttered.
“Damn it!”
Running up the stairs, leaping two at a time, he arrived at Violet’s Chris Daughtry postered bedroom door and pushed it open. Violet’s large blue eyes bulged and she reached for her laptop. He growled.
“Say goodbye, Violet!”
She said nothing and closed the video chat screen then glared with incredulousness at her father. He snapped, again.
“Vi, you’re doing homework and handing me your phone and web cam!”
Violet sneered and crossed her arms over her t-shirt displaying the band The Temper Trap.
“What’s the deal? I was just saying hey and goodnight to Davey! This wasn’t major until mom…..”
Violet didn’t finish the sentence. She read her father’s hurt, dead stare. It took over the room. She stood on her bed, pulling cords that connected her phone and web camera to the wall. She handed them over with attitude.
“So, can I, like, study now? “
Her tone and body language were defiant. He marveled at how grown-up she appeared. A dizziness overwhelmed him and he was afraid to move. He mouthed “sit down”. Violet obliged and splayed over her full-size bed, pulling a blue bedspread over her volleyball practice shorts and long bare legs.
“I miss her too, Vi. So much. But I can’t stop being your dad, ever. Davey distracts you. Your grades were going down before…..”
He was painted into a corner with his words. He stopped his speech and looked around Violet’s room. Next to a hair straightener, on a book shelf, under an indie rock CD was a blue and white square. Violet followed his eyes and got out of her bed. She tip-toed to the little hardcover book and pulled it off the shelf.
“Dad, I found this in mom’s closet about a week ago. I forgot to tell you. I loved that book so much when I was little.”
He took it from her and laughed while reading the title.
“Detective Puppy and the Case of the Missing Knickerbockers was your favorite when you were four years old. You made your mom and I read it to you every night for months. I miss that little girl.”
He handed it back and turned to leave the room.
“I do too, dad. So, can I have my phone and cam, back?”
He was crying and almost to the door when he replied over his left shoulder.
“Absolutely, not, Violet. Now, do you homework.”
****blogger’s note****
This is my response to my friend Grace’s Indie Ink challenge
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Grace O’Malley challenged me with “Detective Puppy and the Case of the Missing Knickerbockers” and I challenged Leo with “elegantly wasted”
Today’s song is from the t-shirt Violet’s wearing. It’s an indie pop-rock band from Australian, The Temper Trap, that had a cool hit in 2009-2010. Here’s Sweet Disposition.
I Know What I Am
Gillian knew the answer but still asked.
“What is it?”
His face was white, like the skull mandible he held. David answered her, in a hushed tone.
“It’s definitely alien. Just like me.”
*****blogger’s note****
This is my 33 word response to this prompt from Trifect Writing challenge. http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/
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Here’s a ripping rock tune from Band of Skulls, I Know What I am. It’s sets a tone and sounds great. Play it at skull crushing level.
Dream
I know you won’t believe anything in this post, but I don’t care. Few places or people on the internet will tell you their dreams, their real dreams, not pipe dreams or day dreams, but the crap that happens during REM sleep. Some of what I’m going to tell you will freak you out. It will confirm what you already thought of me. I’m remarkably weird and thoroughly complicated. So here we go.
I remember most of my dreams, in color, with full storylines, and they’re soundtracked.
Last night, for what seemed like hours on top of other hours, I dreamed that my wife worked for the President, was always away, and I was convinced she was having an affair with one of the President’s top aides. There were plot devices, double mcguffins, and a moment where I removed myself from the storyline to talk to myself about my paranoia. All the while two songs were playing, “3 Strange Days” by School of Fish and Forest for the Trees “Dream.
In my dream there was no proof The Bobina was doing anything wrong. The dream was exclusively about my insecurities as a husband, father, son, and friend. I listened to those two songs numerous times before I went to sleep, while researching two political posts ideas for my Friday column for http://www.sprocketink.com and pondering my wife working several hours late Friday night. So, seeds were planted.
The last of what I can completely recall of this dream played out over the lat lines of the Forest Through The Trees’ Dream song
Stretch it out, don’t doubt the amount
my brain is caught
I’m just blessed
Trip hoppin’, so I flow like a stream
It’s just a dream
I woke up and kissed my wife. She just rolled her eyes and went back to sleep.
*****blogger’s note****
My friend Mollie from http://mollieisokinuk.blogspot.com/ and @MollieisOkinUk ‘s husband wrote a cool post about the perfect meatball and that led Mollie to challenge me with Use Forest for the Trees’ “Dream” as a personal post. Then, things got weird.
Forest For The Trees – Dream
Slither
Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/02/22/fell-in-love-with-a-girl/
The thickness of the air outside followed Helene inside the loft. As her fingers recoiled from blistering through the song, she felt the uneasiness of the room.
“You’re late, damn it!”
The manager’s voice boomed from several feet away. Helene didn’t answer. She gripped her guitar with trepidation and turned toward Sadie and Mara. They sat with their instruments slack-jawed but refusing eye contact with Helene.
“I’m sorry for being so late. I had some stuff come up but I’m here and definitely ready.”
Their tandem silence startled Helene. After a few seconds, Mara pushed herself away from her drum kit.
“Yeah, you were stealing Darcy’s apartment and fucking your rockstar girlfriend! How dare we be bothered by an hour long wait?”
Mara wasn’t usually sarcastic. She was a tell it like it is woman. Helene looked at Sadie and saw no quarter in Sadie’s hard stare. Helene felt like fighting.
“We were being evicted! You try living with a druggie that doesn’t pay the bills! And, who I fuck is none of your business!”
Helene stomped to her backpack and retrieved her notebook, still clutching the plugged-in electric guitar. She returned their scowls and placed her notes on a music stand.
“Now, are we going to rock out or gossip like little bitches? Your call, girls! But, Make it now, ’cause tonight’s a big deal!”
Helene looked up at the manager, standing a few feet away with his arms crossing, shaking his head in disgust. Helene smirked and mouthed “asshole” at him. She lowered her voice.
“I want to start tonight’s set with that wicked version of Slither, Sadie and I came up with. It’ll build tension, then we’ll explode on the crowd after a minute or so.”
Sadie stared at her sneakers and plucked the opening baseline. Mara rolled her eyes, sat back down behind her kit and played the low percussion rumble. Helene absorbed their pressure and strummed the growling guitar chords.
****blogger’s note****
This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. You can find the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ This ia a touch over 300 words based on the prompt from Write On Edge:
We asked you to use a Gandhi quote to inspire you to throw a little conflict at your characters in the name of strong plot development.
It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence.
Mahatma Gandhi
The word limit was 300. Please link up but only if you did the prompt. Remember to visit as many linkups as possible in the spirit of building a strong community.
There’s plenty of conflict here as Helene begins pushing her band away.
Today’s song comes from the story. I think this song really is all about conflict and tension building. Slash is great on guitar here. Play it loud. Velvet Revolver’s Slither:
Fell In Love With A Girl
Last time with Helene Troy: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/02/14/down-with-the-sickness/
Heat assaulted Helene as she climbed the steps of the train station to the street. Her hands were covered in sweat from carrying the guitar case and dialing Ramona several times. She’d come to the final digit then shove the phone deep into her frayed left front pocket. The landlord was paid, the kittens were comfortable, but she was in turmoil. Her stomach ached from the distraction of not knowing how Ramona thought about her. She felt like a fool and she was being treated like one, too. Ramona was much older than her. She was a fling to an intelligent, experienced woman like Ramona Fucking Gallery, she thought.
“I can’t believe I’m falling in love with her.”
Helene dug out her phone and texted Ramona.
“I really hope you come tonight. I miss you already.”
She hit send and immediately hated herself.
“She’s going to think I’m out of my damn mind.”
Helene breathed in the thick summer air. Her throat tightened and she felt her backpack, unsuccessfully, for a bottled water. She tossed her wet, sticky brown hair away off of her neck and strode into the Soho Loft. She bounded up the stairs and spoke to no one as she dumped her belongings near the door.
Her bandmates, Sadie and Mara had delivered her electric guitar and amplifier. They attempted hellos but Helene ignored them and grabbed her instrument, plugged it in then shouted to Mara, the drummer.
“Stripes Girl on three!”
Her sweaty fingers barely held her favorite purple pick, dug out of her bra. With an overwhelming force she hit the guitar chords. The stress of the relationships with Darcy Bridges and Ramona Gallery fought with the heat surrounding her. Helene’s voice sounded like it had been struck by lightning. It was wicked and dangerous.
“Fell in love with a girl, fell in love with a girl, fell in love once and almost completely, she’s in love with the world but sometimes these feelings
can be so misleading…”
This is a new story episode of The Ballad of Helene Troy. You can read the rest of the story, so far, here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/the-ballad-of-helene-troy/ There are two prompts inside this story one is “Fool” from Trifecta Writing Challenge, which also require I write mo more than 333 words: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ and For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Supermaren challenged me with “struck by lighting” and I challenged Sir with “tall, dark and handsome”
The White Stripes’ two minutes of guitar awesomeness provides today’s song. Enjoy….
White Nights
The 100 Word Song experiment has become a movement. It’s being referenced on other blogs, the facebook, and I’m convinced at least five weekly writers dream about it. The fourth week saw some really interesting entries. I stuck with my widower and his teenager Violet story. But a couple of others went very noir on the challenge. I’m very much into that style right now. So I let Carrie and her grim noirish 100 word song piece http://viewsfromnature.com/2012/02/16/100-word-song-sickness/ , pick this week’s ditty. She chose Oh Land aka Nanna Fabricius, a Danish pop alternative pop singer. If Bjork and Gwyneth Paltrow had a baby and she was less annoying and more in touch with today’s electronic pop music she’d be Oh Land. We’re picking up the tempo, the positivity and getting really happy and bouncy this week. Leeroy the Robot is moving.
Here’s my 100.
Violet fidgeted after she buckled. He put the car in drive and changed the radio from his rock to her pop.
“So, dad, there’s this mani-pedi kit at the store for, maybe thirty dollars. I was thinking Josie could come over tomorrow night and we do our fingers and toes. Sounds beastly, right?”
He smiled at how she learned from her mother to change her tone when she wanted something.
“Do I get a hug and kiss out of this beastly offer, Vi?”
She rolled her eyes and tapped her toes along the dashboard with the rhythm of the song.
As always, the rules are simple. I give you a song. You give me 100 words inspired by it. We come back next Tuesday with a new tune.
All the way from Vancouver, Canada comes this week’s request from Carrie. Here’s Oh Land’s White Nights.
The Robot Doctrine
You will find nothing literate not literary in today’s post. Apparently the zombie apocalyspe has gripped my blogger friends. There was a new Walking Dead episode last night and I’m assuming my buddies are gathering their guns and bottled water because I’m guest posting in three places today.
Head over to http://camerondgarriepy.com/2012/02/20/cornflake-girl-guest-fiction-from-lance/ You’ll find the first 700 words of my widowed husband and teenage daughter story. I’m yet to settle on a title, but by the end of the week, I will, and I’ll add a header page to this blog so you all can keep up with it easier. Please go see Cam’s site and comment. It makes her happy and drink less.
Stephanie or whatever she’s calling herself these days asked me weeks ago to write something. I kind of sort of forgot about the date until she reminded me. I blogged about, well, why I blog. It’s slightly more interesting than that and there’s a Johnny Marr and the Healers song, The Last Ride, which will entertain you if the writing does not. Go see The Drama Mama http://t.co/WBgSV6X
Jenna over at www.mademorebeautiful.com asked me to write about what was going on in my head at the moment. Apparently she likes horror stories, too. It will run some time this week, but check her out anyway and she’ll tell you when to literally watch out for my piece.
There’s a new sports column going up at http://sprocketink.com/hope-springs-a-turtle-or-something/ with my name attached at 1pm eastern today. It’s about baseball returning. There’s enough snark to go with baseball in that one.
Happy Presidents Day. I think technically we celebrate George Washington and Abraham Lincoln’s birthdays today. They’re such glory hogs. My favorite underrated President was James Monroe. The dude had his own doctrine and it’s lasted 187 years. I wish I had my own doctrine. How about this, “I will write whenever and where you want me too, because I’m part robot and I don’t sleep”.
Today’s song is from The Presidents of the United States of America. Play it loud, and veto something. All Hail The Grunge Rock.
Jack and Jill
Morning greeted Jack and Jill with an orange gulf at the top the hill. In tears, Jill gave her news. Jack removed the pistol. Their tumble stopped at the base of a well.
****blogger’s note***
This is my response to the weekly weekend challenge from: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/
Trifextra: Week Four
This weekend we’re interested in your ability to stand on the shoulders of giants. We want you to take a famous story, poem, book, or fable, and retell it in just 33 words. Feel free to change the characters around, twist the plot, interpret it in a new direction, or parody it, but try to leave it still somewhat recognizable.
Today’s song is from Shinedown. I’ve not their biggest fan but I like this newer song, Sound of Madness. It fits here. Play it loud.
