The word, "Curtain", unedited writing practice (taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement, body sensations), 10 minutes, go!...

The fog remained dropped along the beach like a curtain that darkened his plans for any fun in the sun. The floating seagulls still showed up in their roles; still played out their scenes of dive bombers on enemy shores with an occasional dropped payload  of "get off my beach" onto the hair or shoulders of lounging sun worshippers. The star of our story sensed a wave of disappointment cool his enthusiasm as he secured a parking spot. Scene One begins: A day off and no sun. He slept in earlier so his morning coffee was later than usual and still hung on his tongue like a scarf on a clothesline. 

Now, of course there wouldn't BE any sun worshippers if indeed there was fog, right? But that's where editing comes in.

....scarf on a clothesline? Hmmm...

The word, "Mop", unedited writing practice (taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement, body sensations), 10 minutes, go!...

In my head it feels like a puddle of thoughts getting swirled around by an old school janitor's mop. Slopping through a morning haze I come to my senses and attempt to wash my mental hands of all worry.
Stringy discolored tentacles octopus around the gymnasium - it's floor an ocean wide. Propelled by the hands of a very blessed state government worker with the lines on his face of a windswept, weathered sailor. He's navigated this wooden handle in his determined grip for a good many years. He waxes a mean floor, but he can almost taste the sweetly restful days of retirement. The fruit of his labors - sinking his teeth into a nice pension.

The word, "Wand", unedited writing practice (taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement, body sensations), 10 minutes, go!...

Little Johnny waves his tiny spoon like a magician's wand as though he could conjure up an instant meal from his adult assistant who was scurrying from sink to microwave. This cutely pudgy little trickster with the unavoidable smile planned his next move as soon as he had his fill of the magical mixture of spinach and beets. Oh, mom was prepared to see his so-called wand become a flying instrument of mirth and amused laughter. The rubber covered spoon thuds onto the dark wood floor and releases the strategically planned uneaten contents of its infant portioned concave and splotches of green between the cracks become the next objects of discussion between mother and son. Pressure builds behind her desire to teach her boy right from wrong, but then she...

Ed. Note: I was going to go into something about exploding in laughter.

And excerpt from a previous 10 minutes with the word "Loom":
 

I so easily amuse myself, warming up to work on a lyric...

The word, "Worm", unedited writing practice (taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement, body sensations), 10 minutes, go!...

Bite into a worm, what do you get? I don't know-never tried it! Insect jelly covered in moist dark dirt? Gritty in your teeth like sand only softer and grossly juicier. Oh, how about a rainbow colored gummy worm? Spongy sugar molded into a less-grosser version of the real creature that burrows through soft dirt or makes an appearance under a lifted rock like an over-achieving actor when the curtain suddenly opens too early. Dingy gray piece of twisted rope comes alive and convulses wildly in my hand. His silent panic seems to amuse me and I'm guilty of the fact. He's not hurting me. I will free him from his five-finger skin prison.

The word, "Costume", unedited writing practice (taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement, body sensations), 10 minutes, go!...

He wore his smile like a costume. Ready to have fun if it killed him. The corners of his upturned mouth like painted-on clown lips. The smell of fresh, just-out-of-the-oven Geno's pizza rolls hit his nose whereby it felt like it would grow to a clown size and explode. He hid his raging appetite in small talk and large nods of his baseball-cap covered head. He slithered toward the white plastic covered snack table under cover of self-controlled calm. Celery clothed in ranch dip felt the grip of his hand. Creaminess draped over his taste buds like a cool salve. Crunch vibrated his jaw and skull-an unseen earthquake of gastronomic delight.

Until I get to sharing a song in progress, I warmup:

The word, "Matron", unedited writing practice (taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement, body sensations), 10 minutes, go!...

The matron of the retirement community was the most stodgy women I had ever seen. No applesauce was served before it's time. You will not pass downs these halls of walkers, wheelchairs, and soiled linen containers on wheels, without her gaze on you like handcuffs attached to your ankles. Her proper but overly authoritative "May I help you" makes its presence known as though a hand is pressing down on your head and squishing you down to child-like proportions. Everything about her pseudo-dignified manner looks down on you from behind her information sign placed there as almost a shield to protect all inhabitants from the bothersome outsiders. I lost my ability to speak like gum losing it's flavor. She chewed my...

Wow-Really had to force myself to get going this morning.

The word, "Heaven", unedited writing practice (taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement, body sensations), 10 minutes, go!...

Heaven is under my pillow when I slide my hand underneath into the peaceful cold of the sheets and pillow case. Ethereal dreams may make their presence known tonight. Toothpaste taste reminds me of angel protection. I'm sure to wake up with a head of halo hair. Clicking refrigerator, guardian of all things perishable like my wife's casserole or mom's glorious pasta leftovers from Sunday's family get-together. Night air invisibly wafts in from the almost-silent night. Distant canines sings their praises to the slivery moon. Turning over, cotton sings of...

I've got new songs on the way to post, but until then, I remain (doing):

The word, "Caricature", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

Your version of my own thoughts makes quite a caricature of what I'm actually thinking. A bulbous nose, larger than life, must be amusing you to no end. But that is not the face of my opinions. at all. I am not clowning around here inside my mind, but you seem to be inside yours. Very funny, the over-sized forehead your making of the facts. Grotesquely sharp teeth chewing my words but spitting them out at me like rapid-fire watermelon seeds. Imitation knowledge pours out your mouth like destroying hot lava. Hearts hardened in distorted images of action. Pencils scrape inside your mind...

The word, "Parsnip", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...
 The evil prince had fingers resembling wrinkly, dirt-caked parsnips only these were bendable. They tapered to a point such that no fingernail would dare to grow. He pointed one of his vegetable appendages and pressed it into my chest, testing my resolve like a gardener tests the soil in lieu of sowing future plans. I sensed the seeds of an evil plot in his grotesquely watery eyes set in hatchet-cut eye sockets over which a furrowed brow pressed down in intimidating symmetry.

Busy days of shows at the fair but time in between for....

The word, "Kerosene", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

It was as though the mood hanging in the room was dripping with kerosene and one moremisunderstood or misspoken outburst would send the whole living room up in flames of anger. Resentment was rising like the pungent smell of lighter fluid. Tongue strikes teeth and roof of mouth and sparks fly. Eyes aflame and glowing like charcoal briquettes. Lethal drop of sweat down his back, an uncomfortable sign of poison disagreements. A foot pensively tapping on dark wood floor under the coffee table is like a flame licking against his self control. He wants to jump up and spew dragon fire, burning any other opinions to a deadly crisp. Knuckles cracking like a snapping campfire as...

The word, "Illegal", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...


This illness is illegal to my plans as far as I'm concerned. If it had any rights they would be read to it and then locked up for further judgement. A judgement and jury that would never come. Criminal oozings and forced sniffles. Unlawful nuisances of scratchy throat grumbles. My strength has been stolen from me from out of nowhere. I stand to a dizziness that's murder on my energy level. I fear a nausea may overpower me like a thief in the night. Handcuffed to my bed is what it feels like. The law of health thrown and broken to pieces like Moses throwing the covenant stones in front of the Israelites. Chicken soup, like prison's bread and water, is my lot in life today. A kleenex that will never wipe away the charges completely until the virus is banished from my society of thoughts.

Your cold tea cup
Speaks of your warming presence
Knowing you'll return
__________________

And now the word, "Hallucination", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...
(Note: Views expressed not necessarily the mental state of their author)
 

Photo: http://tinyurl.com/pc8hmq6

Whisps of things thought seen. Windy nothings caressing forests of dense dreams that stand majestic like redwoods on the California coast. I resist hallucinations, yet they are more real to me today than ever. A ray of sun like a sharp icycle pierces my forearm. The sun smiles at me; the sight of it burning into my mind the more I stare. But I can't look away. Ficus leaves applaud their approval under compulsion from the breeze's insistent goading. Angry fly buzz says aerodynamics...

The word, "Imagine", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

I imagine dragons in my living room. They are planted on the couch like an old married couple. One of them roars fire into the kitchen at me to bring him a sauteed damsel in distress. An outrageous request since I'm not into human sacrifice. And by the way, now my walls are singed black and smokey. An acrid smell like a just blown out cookie candle only worse. Smoke alarms sing after waiting so long for some possible catastrophe to give them free reign to their only purpose in life. And now what to do with the couch torn to shreds like an old black jacket from a scary Halloween costume. These reptilian guests need to slither on back home before I get all Camelot on them! One reaches for the remote and rips a gash into the tan carpet that I just vacuumed. This...

I'm really having fun with these! I can only hope it'll help my writing in the long term.  I don't post every one I do, but I'm keeping up the habit most days.  This one done on a four day road trip.

The word, "Panda", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

You're stylin', PandaMan!

I saw him skulking around the Halloween party house wearing his Lone Ranger mask and he immediately reminded me of a panda as he gnawed on a celery stick as if it were a just-picked bamboo shoot. He found himself in a jungle of unknown faces whose monkey antics were quite alarming to his slow-moving nature. Unnatural tribal sounds emanated from the music speakers as well as from the fake rocks thumping Justin Timberlake in the suburban back yard. His thoughts were not all cute and cuddly toward the girl with a huge tongue piercing advancing into his claimed observance territory in the corner of the forest-green painted living room. He wished he was a small dog so he could scamper out on all fours undetected by the huntress raising her glass, dressed to kill. His resolve roly poly, he excused himself to the bathroom, rolling his eyes.

The word, "Swift", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

...and finish the last sentence if you'd like! :)

The dust danced around me to the song of her swift leaving. Dragging, spinning feet race away with the fury of a dragster in a sweepstakes race. I gave her the green light with my word of, "Go find your green ball". Joy flew to her face with a smile as wide as an olympic swimming pool is long. I still could taste the mac and cheese, made instantly, for our father/daughter Saturday. We jumped from our kitchen chairs like race horses out of the shoot, her laughter like from a winning bet. She knew I had time for her. Cheese sauce stains on her shirt like...
 















Object writing bonus! Lol  "Mallet"

I will take a mallet to my fear and smash it to bits. Like an empty bottle with nothing good in it for me, I swing hard and watch the pieces shiny and sharp splatter across the room. A shower of glass. A firm resolve as though holding the smooth wooden handle in my calloused and tightly gripping hand. Death instrument to scary imaginations. Their last final screaming presence in the hail of fragmented realities. Hard rubber impacts my life forever, for good. Your words to me became a Home Depot of personal strategies and tools I could find to build a better life outlook.

Like working out the body on a somewhat daily basis, this is like working out the [song]writing muscle. I'll get to some real songwriting later in the day.

The word, "Tribe", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

We are like a tribe. The passion of song is in our blood. We share the same bloodline. The desire to communicate by the language of songwriting. A finished song another feather in our caps. Nomads of imagination. Sitting still yet we are miles away, off in some distant setting. Our campfire sending smoke from burning embers of thought. Dancing eyes for the heavens to send down nourishing drops of ideas, places to go next. Watering our fertile minds where inspiration grows. Turquoise, silver, desert sands.....Shuffling feet kick up the dust from our wandering. The dust of stagnant paths now forgotten. Horizon ahead welcomes our...
 

Wow...in the words of The Police, "Sending out an S.O.S"

The word, "Castaway", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

I was the castaway and she was the ship that never came for me. A world of beauty all around me but I never noticed it. And it got further and further from my heart's notice the longer I waited for her to sail for me. My hopes fell like an old, bug-infested palm tree. My heart as empty as an unripened coconut  knocked to the ground too soon. My own thoughts were sounding as sad as the echoing cry of the seagull. Ocean air once smelled so sweet; now was a bitter air of defeat. A losing game of wishing for the non-inevitable. Wishing for the kissable lips moistened by the salty spray of ocean travels. I bow my head like the setting sun, like day turns to night.
 

The word "ding", unedited writing practice, 10 minutes, go!...

Ouch! Her blunt words put a ding in my pride like a front side panel of a car sideswiped from out of nowhere. Unexpected concussion like crunching metal against metal, both our wills moving in opposite directions. Trust is our insurance that disagreements will be softly pounded out to more peaceful moments. I sport this indentation temporarily until some emotional muscle is applied to mend our collision of thought. Collision insurance of devotion covers our future. We will continue to drive ahead with assurance.

"Ding"! Time's up. Lol
 

   

1. List 5 interesting adjectives

Yanni I am not.  But it was nice to get a nod of recognition by getting this track moved on to the next step of possible usage.  The pitch called for:

NEW AGE INSTRUMENTALS as calming and tranquil as any Yanni, David Arkentsone, or David Lanz track are needed by the Owner of an incredibly successful Music Library. We just started working this company a few months ago. They’ve got tons of placements in some of today’s hottest TV Shows, Films, and Commercials. Your tracks must be engaging and compelling from beginning (no long intros please!) to end through use of sophisticated grooves, creative sounds, and an interesting arrangement. They’re looking for melodic instrumentals that will leave the listener feeling as though a sense of peace has gently washed over them. We’d advise that you stick to one central motif, and keep it moving forward by adding new layers and interest as you go. All tempos will be considered. 

I and my primal screaming self (who you hear way down in the mix) submitted this:
 

The pitch called for:
GUITAR-DRIVEN RIFF ROCK INSTRUMENTALS are needed by a Publisher who’s placing tracks in an upcoming Feature Film. He’s looking for virtually ALL styles of Riff Rock for this one. Quoting the Publisher: “Classic Rock like AC/DC and Led Zeppelin will work. Current Rock like Jet, or The Hives will also be cool. I’m even open to aggressive Heavy Metal and Grunge, as long as there’s a big juicy guitar riff on the track. The most important thing is that the instrumentals have an edgy attitude that will work in both suspenseful scenes, and in action scenes.” He wants your tracks to sound like authentic band songs, not like under-sore that has been composed for scene. 

I had just the track for it!
 

I modeled "Ocean Strut" after this song. Perhaps you've heard it?: