Unblocked: Releasing a Torrent of Digital Diarrhea

Yes, it is a disgusting headline but, now that you’re here, let’s see why it’s not just eyeball-grabbing retina-searing gibberish.

If you have a daily journaling habit, you may or may not have a method for sticking to the routine. Like exercise, it helps to mix things up, keep it fresh. I’m a veteran of a dozen days of journaling. Already, it’s becoming a chore. Rather than ditch it, I focused on the benefits and slogged through to the halfway point. When I reached this wall, I told myself that I needed to try something different – so I came up with musical prompts. Let me explain:

Image

I do my journaling on 750words.com. As the name implies, the exercise consists of dumping 750 words to the screen. Since I began, it has helped me to focus on ideas for my writing, programming and games. Some of the stuff I pull from my head is so startling, I wonder what else is in there. But that’s the catch-22. Thinking about thinking keeps you from thinking about the subconscious thoughts that might otherwise come out. It is the reverse of trying not to think of your tongue. See what I mean?

Inevitably, I couldn’t think of anything to put down. This is supposed to be a brain dump and, to be frank, I was mentally constipated. Musical prompts managed to come, unbidden, to the fore. I listen to my tunes whenever I’m on the computer. One of my favorites was playing. From here on out, what you’ll be reading is the unedited second half of my daily journal:

Crap. I am completely out of it this morning. Let’s do a prompt. Dexter Wansel’s “Sweetest Pain”:

The French bakery was named Sweetest Pain. Located in downtown Philadelphia, it was the dream of a Scrabble Champion and his beautiful wife, Claire. Claire was a professional pastry chef – she had trained in Paris. The two of them decided that the world kneaded more good food. She made French Bread with cinnamon and raisins.

It was an instant hit with the obese crowd.

Okay, here is the idea: Write as long as the song is playing. When a new song comes on, do a prompt for that!

Howard Hewitt “Stay”:

“Stupid dog. Why must you take me so literally?” Howard looked at the dead mutt in the middle of his kitchen floor. He had no idea that Hewitt, the golden retriever, had simply expired from a heart attack. All he knew was that, if Katie came downstairs, she would be upset.

Cal Tjader “Davito”

My favorite actor is Danny Devito. He is just so funny. The movie in which he played Arnold Schwarzenegger’s twin brother was the source of one of my favorite movie quotes of all time, “I’m genetic garbage!” Yes, I’m talking about Twins. That was one silly movie. I can’t seem to recall much about the one where Danny was a slumlord.

Could we look it up?

Kenny G “Save the Best for Last”:

Gerrie was excited. Today was the day that she and Fred went on their cruise. They had booked it two years ago, when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. They sold all their possessions, kissed the grandkids goodbye and boarded the plane that would fly them to Miami. Gerrie was so happy that she would get to spend this time with her best friend since forever ago. Fred had always been by her side, from the time he had stomped on that bully, Roger, who had been pestering Gerrie for a kiss.

They were all ten years old.

Now, 45 years later, Gerrie and Fred had lived full lives…

This is fun! Okay, the next one is “This Time Around” by Michael Jackson:

He spotted her in the scope. Drat! Some punk’s head was in the way. She drifted out of view. He took a deep breath and relaxed his finger. Counting to twenty-seven, he closed his eyes and waited. At twenty-two, he opened his eyes and focused.

He spotted her in the scope. Perfect! He squeezed the trigger just as she sneezed. Her head exploded forward. The punk handed her a tissue.

This was getting ridiculous. Nobody seemed to notice the puff of plaster that screamed out from the center of the Merry-go-round. He counted to twenty-seven.

“Jungle Book” by Weather Report:

“Look, fool. You can’t go traipsing off into the canopy without a map! You’ll never make back to camp!” Jackson rolled his eyes.

Burt simply smiled. “Who said I wanted to come back?”

This entry was posted in Musings by Mitchell Allen. Bookmark the permalink.