A playlist

What a…terrific..idea. How did last week go, exactly?

Five days of drudgery and two days off. Sounds familiar to most everyone, I am sure.

So let’s begin the playlist with some working-drone classics:

Let’s start with the Tokens (use the Drew Carey show intro because it’s more visually interesting):

(songs about mass murders are always so cheerful, right?)

Whew, we made it through the week. Sorry ’bout the disco.

Hey, you prompted it, it’s your fault!

Playlist of the Week

Tell us how your week went by putting together a playlist of five songs that represent it.

…really?

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Burning Love

I watch the building burn to the ground. The fire department responded in sufficient force and early enough to save the building, yet somehow all of their efforts to put the fire out were ineffective. I heard the fire inspector talking to the engine company chief about accelerants, the unnatural heat of this fire, a probable arson case.

And I remained quietly in the crowd, invisible in plain sight. Until it became clear the battle was lost on this particular night. And I walked away with amidst a crowd of other departing spectators, my natural camouflage.

The fire inspector was correct about one thing—this fire had been unnaturally persistent and too hot to extinguish. But he’d never find any accelerant. It’s my business making sure he doesn’t.

You might call me an insurance adjuster. But working on the opposite side of the equation from the fire department and the insurance companies. I am paid to be certain a building fire is successful, the buildings perish in the flames. You would probably call me an arsonist, but my methods are more foolproof and also much harder to detect.

Something was left behind in this fire, something precious for which I would have to return. But only when the coast was clear.

The next afternoon, after the Inspector’s forensic crew had come and gone without discovering any trace evidence or accelerants, I lurked around the corner from the site.

My accelerant can actively avoid detection, you see. He’s been well trained to burrow and hide in the ashes and debris left behind by any fire. Some minutes later, I stooped and picked up my partner as he scuttled from the alley’s shadow. Bert the Salamander warmed my palm for a moment before I slipped him into my overcoat pocket and whistled as I ambled away.

Remember this prompt, when your home was on fire and you got to save five items? That means you left a lot of stuff behind. What are the things you wish you could have taken, but had to leave behind?

Burning Itch?

Midsummer Grove

“Don’t go,” I begged her.

“You know I must,” she responded as she stroked my face with her fingertips. “She calls me home, always. You knew she does.”

“We will appeal to Oberon, surely he could help us?”

“Dear one. Don’t ask me to deny my nature and my kin, to cut myself off from my folk and my grove. As much as you love me, you simply ask too much. And as much as I love you, I cannot stay forever in your world.”

When I opened my eyes, my nymph was gone. Forever departed through Titania’s forest portal.

A product of this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

Forest Sculpture by Spencer Byles

My five (boring) little Muppets.

Well, let’s see. I don’t keep a lot of hard copy, so family photos and such aren’t going to make the list. Not very many mementos available in easy-grab range.

From a purely pragmatic standpoint, I know that I get very bored, very quickly, without my gadgets and gizmos. So bearing that in mind:

Kindle (huge pile of books in one very compact package).

Laptop. Assuming I can reach an open wifi, we’ve got internet.

Cell Phone. Them relatives gonna be callin’. And see above.

Pocket plunder, including wallet. We’ll cheat and call this one item, but a lot of crap lying on my dresser gets shoved quickly in my pockets every single day (with good reason).

And…hmm. Several kinds of chargers (shove em in the briefcase and take it).

So I haven’t walked more than ten feet or so, total prep time under sixty seconds, and have I most of the basic essentials of a technoaddict.

***

Not really all that much different from the standard “Oh damn, power’s out for several days again (Damn You ComEd)” survival kit, when you get right down to it.

Lord knows we’ve had practice with that one.

Your home is on fire. Grab five items (assume all people and animals are safe). What did you grab?

I have to come up with more humorous picks

In My Garage

I used to keep the Jaguarzord parked right over there. You can still see the breaker-box and the power hookup where I kept it recharging over night.

I helped defend the town from rogue Kaiju and plague-zombie waves several times. Jaguarzord was sleek and powerful and dangerous. The perfect blend of captured Gamma Leonis ex-military tech and good old American know-how. You could see me driving it on Main Street in the Memorial Day parade. I was even a minor local celebrity.

Everything went fine until those neighborhood punks broke in and took it joy-riding.

Inspired by this weeks Friday Ficitoneers prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright Ted Strutz

Hey, come on, I managed to do something with a fuse box. Bonus points for difficulty?

Play Selenographer

I have to make some reference here to Elanthia again (sorry).

Because I’ve already done some lexicography. These guys, and these. Wearing my Lemandria face, I developed the orbit math for the earth/moon system of Elanthia, including all  of the moons.

Based on some earlier work by GM Varevice, I worked up the lunar orbits (really simplified, true-circle orbits) in a GWBasic program called moons.exe (or something similarly fascinating).

The constellations (including the lame little illustrations) are pure Lemmy. Photoshop 3, I think.

Anyway, a year or two later GM Smite hunted me down on the moons; he was working on a project to put the moons “in the sky”, so to speak, the phases “visible” at any given time, for anyone who knew the right verb.

So he asked for my source for Moons.exe, and we worked out a simplified way to use easy repeating cycles to represent it in Elanthian math in GSL (no cosines or basic trig functions). We hammered it out, and he did the GSL.

I wasn’t a dev GM yet, at that time. Didn’t get involved in that until years later.

The “official” version of the moons document was also hammered out later, based on my original luna-lexicography (is that a word?) I did from a purely roleplay (Lemandria) perspective for the Coven. Cleaned up and posted with much improved graphics.

Anyway, boring story. But there you go. My first and only adventure into Lexicography, writing up those lunar descriptions (and tides and whatnot) for the original Coven versions of the Moons document.

Play Lexicographer

A lot of work I did for fun, as a player, ended up becoming “official” in the Simutronics universe. Then they hired me, and I did more 😛

“Blood,” said Vlad.

I’m a firm believer that most of my bodily fluids are happy inside my body. And so they’re understandably reluctant to leave it.

I’m not sure why I’m not fond of blood, I’ve certainly bled often enough. And that didn’t ick me out. Even a couple of fairly bad knife cuts ::see the stitches?::

Maybe the Ick is some sort of hospital (creepy place) plus blood (creepy substance) combination? I dunno, but it is one of my creepy-icky things. I’m an un-fan of hematologists and their ghoulish lab techs.

Sneaking around with their evil plot to drain me dry.

Guess it’s Dr. Phibes that creeps me out…heh.

Whatever. You guys with the needles and bottles, stay over there. I’ll be over here where it’s safe.

No, I won’t write in support of blood-suckers, especially not sparkly ones. Die, Edward Cullen.

 Think of something that truly repulses you. Hold that thought until your skin squirms. Now, write a glowing puff piece about its amazing merits.

The Shop

There is a place where hidden treasures can be found.

A tiny storefront of an old building, in the middle of the avenue. Number 15. Surrounded by more modern shops, most passersby fail to even notice the place.

“Welcome,” offered the store’s proprietor as I entered. A wizened little gnome of a man, his spectacles perched before beady eyes. “May I help you with something?”

“This place is marvelous,” I breathed. “Might I look around?”

“Of course.” The gnome turned back to scratching away in his ledger.

I browsed the shelves and stacks of old books, discovering marvels. First editions, beautifully illustrated folios. Treasures! I wallowed in the smells and sensations of a dusty book shop.

Finally, I discovered the best. Making my choice, I took my book to the register, and the little gnome looked up from his careful handwriting.

“This one,” I said. “I’d like to purchase this first edition Ivanhoe.”

“Not for sale,” harumphed the Gnome.

“What?”

“This isn’t a book shop.”

I blinked in confusion. “It isn’t?”

“This is a book shop shop. I sell book stores. They’re going out of business by the cartload, you know. You’re standing in my Demonstrator Model.”

Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction photo:

A book shop that is no longer there

Prophetic caption on that photo…

Wish it was raining on the homeland soil

But it’s January and rain is still a distant dream.

Instead, we have cold and snow and traffic mess. January stuff. On the east coast, they’re really wishing for rain today, instead of the blizzard conditions they’re getting.

So what’s up with the rain? Trying to raise our spirits, look ahead to Spring!

Won’t work, too many weeks still to go.

I sure wish it did. The cold and gray persists, along with the mood they inspire. God, I’m tired of winter.

Argh. :bang head on keys: I freakin hate winter.

Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . .

. . . home.

. . . soil.

. . . rain.

Use those words in the title of your post.

There, that was Cheerful. Did you know that the vast majority of America’s serial killers come from the midwest?

Now you know why.

We’re here, aren’t we?

We keep soldiering on through the daily post’s woes and technical issues. We keep coming back for more, because there’s a community here worth saving.

It keeps us writing and practicing. It keeps us gabbing (at each other).

The benefits outweigh the frustrations.

Where have I heard this sort of speech before? Oh yes, clinging to one of  those miserable no-future unappreciated unrewarded jobs that I despised, for years.

It’s just my nature.

Guttons for Punishment