Tag Archives: Daily Prompt

Shaken, not stirred

If I had care to live, I would have died. I was wallowing in self-pity when Death arrived.

I was already drunk, of course. But this liquor wouldn’t bring her back. Nothing would.

There was a gurgle, and the sound of a smashing bottle. I blearily wondered whose hand that could be, lying in the broken glass and pool of spreading liquor.

Death lifted my head sharply from the bar, fingers twining in my hair.

“You are pitiful,” she hissed. Licking the bartender’s blood from her fingertips, she dropped my head on the bar and stalked into the night.

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Better off without her, pal.

Take the first sentence from your favorite book and make it the first sentence of your post.

(Already did a very similar post using the first line from Ringworld. So this one starts with the first line from Silverlock).

Drat, and I’d completely avoided writing anything with vamps up to this point. Emo+Vamps. uggggh. Just shoot me.


A reprieve

And a last-minute phone call from the Governor reprieves the felon at the last moment. How dramatic is that?

(If you’re confused, see previous post. Jan 6 appeared on DP after all!)

So, on to today’s topic:


Welcome back everyone! It’s good to see you all again.

I’m Dave, and I write here quite often. You may know me from my long list of brilliant novels that have won Pulitzers, made me wealthy, and spawned movie deals by the score. Wait—that’s Stephen King.

I’m Dave, and I write here quite often. As you can tell from the general randomness thus far, I often write before being fully awake and caffeinated. And I set out upon the stormy seas of blog post creation in a leaky boat without satnav, sometimes in the near vicinity of rocky reefs. I hope you remembered your life jackets.

Today’s Daily Prompt is a high-concept piece, “Just write the post you want to be remembered by”. No pressure. Easysauce, right?

How is that going so far?

(Wah wah wah sound effect here)

I’m not much for high-concept pieces, as you can tell. I crack bad jokes. Obfuscate. Evade. Distract.

Did that work?

Because I’m not quite sure how to go about simulating the Most Entertaining Person writing his Most Memorable Post ever.

So the prompt today tells me that I’m an Internet Sensation! Go me!

How did I do that again? :head scratch: Aw, who am I kidding? None of the men made it past that video anyway.

Still watching it, aren’t you? Perverts.

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Your blog just became a viral sensation. What’s the one post you’d like new readers to see and remember you by? Write that post.

Viral. As in: cough, choke, wheeze.

So… (a needle pulling thread)

I honestly have no idea what’s going on with the folks over at DP.

But their performance level on our beloved Daily Prompts has been really shoddy, since just before the new year.

Missing prompt days…Jan 3, Jan 6 (so far). Following the fun with the non-functioning pingbacks… And according to Madame Angloswiss, the prompts they aren’t missing are “repeats” anyway.

Not meaning to sound ungrateful; they’ve provided an awful lot of good post fodder. But maybe they’ve moved on? Maybe they’re concentrating on other projects? Perhaps it’s a “set up this software to run on automatic” fault, and it isn’t running properly? Whole staff (even the remote crew) is still not back from vacations?

There’s something going on. If anyone has any light to shed, feel free.

But I’ve got other posts and topics to spend my morning coffee on, I suppose. It just seems a shame, to let a little ‘community’ they had started wither away to attrition.

I’ll keep an eye on DP and  hope for the best, of course. But now I feel sad. Odd how you can forge a little daily coffee habit from someone else’s site. Co-dependence, it’s bad bad bad anyway, right? Heh.

RecDave Seal


Clever Title Goes Here

Welcome aboard, to the ParkInkSpot. I’m your host, that guy up there in the Reclaiming Dave logo, and the designated primary whiner in this locality.

What needs to be reclaimed? Oh, my youth, several belt sizes, my sense of whimsy, direction. Simple stuff! Nothing to it! Just grow a pair, problem solved.

Hah, fooled you, this post is almost certain to be edited! As soon as I give birth to a brilliant direction for this Good Ship Blog to sail…

“Cap’n, she’s already leaking!”

Uh oh.

Re-write this first post. All righty then. (Check-mark one prediction made by that past me, edited=true! Two points!)

Welcome, readers. I’m Dave, and I guess I’m supposed to have learned something, over the last couple of months. I have,  but how many of them are Major Epiphanies, and how many are just Wisdom McNuggets?

Mostly, I’ve got more direction, and a better idea of what it is that this particular blog is intended to do. (For a good long while back there, in the earliest days, I was just flailing around waiting for a direction to aim at.)

But then I started writing fiction, and this blog became more aimed. I’ve also got a lot more practice at the non-fiction end, which (mostly) just consists of burping out whatever thoughts are in my head any particular morning. Some mornings, obviously, I’m much more interesting than others.

Barely controlled chaos is our official theme here at the ParkInkSpot!

We talk about whatever Daily Post wants us to, on any given morning. We talk about whatever chaos my brain feels like making up stories about, on other mornings.

I think we can forget about reclaiming anyone’s waistline. And that youth is long, long gone.

Sense of whimsy—oh yeah, I’ve still got that. Rolling in it, it drives the Chaos.

Sense of direction—well, we do seem to be sneaking up on one.

Grow a pair. Hmm, I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

The “author” pretension seems to have blossomed, a little bit. Watering that cute little sprout, as time goes by.

Anyway, thanks to my regulars, and any new readers. I do this stuff for you guys. Wish I had a closing Wisdom McNugget to pass along but would you settle for a Funny Cat Video?

Hey, look! Over there!

(Closing posts r hard, yo.)

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Now that you’ve got some blogging experience under your belt, re-write your very first post.

Revision Fail

Dead on the line

I don’t do deadlines; not any more.

Oh, I did. For years I lived in that stress-world, and I didn’t miss any.

My only pseudo-deadline, currently, is a self-imposed one. I’m learning to write, right? I have no idea how to judge the point at which I’ve “arrived” at that goal.

I mean, I’m publishing, right here—but in the eyes of most of the world, that’s ‘unpublished’. The followers aren’t flocking in or anything, I’m not heavily marketing the blog in the social-media approved manner. Not trying to turn a blog into a cash machine. The majority of the planet remains blissfully unaware of my (and this site’s) existence. Not chasing any awards or magazines or anything,  not “getting the word out”. DP doesn’t even offer the minor publicity-lite that was once afforded by pingbacks any more.

New followers have nearly evaporated, as a result. I’m still invisible to Google, of course.

So nope. I’m just doing a little writing here, for the pleasure of it. Wishing I had more time off, to do more of it.

But it will be likely years before I grow big enough cojones to call myself “a writer”.

Someone call and let me know when I get there, okay?

RecDave Seal

What’s your next, most pressing deadline? Are you excited, stressed, or ambivalent about it? What’s the first thing you’d like to do once you’re done with it?

Update: Welcome back, pingbacks!

Some odd heroes to worship

I don’t have just one unsung hero. I have dozens of them.

I’ve been collecting them for years now. Odd little pieces of memory for me, faded bygones for everybody else.

I collect One-Hit Wonders. Musicians who charted big, one time, and then vanished into the obscurity of history. To become radio DJs or producers for other musicians or even realtors(!)

I preserve their brief moments of fame, here on my MP3 player.

Wild Cherry. Right Said Fred. Murray Head. Devo. A-ha. American Hi-Fi. Blue Swede. Rick Astley. Soft Cell. Taco.

Some you might recognize. Others you might have to really dig to find. Some are given rebirths by a movie soundtrack (Blue Swede sold a lot of copies of a song last heard in the 70s, thanks to Guardians of the Galaxy). Some are revived as internet memes (Rickrolled!).

A lot of those artists had pretty miserable contracts. They aren’t getting any royalties from modern sales on iTunes. I feel for these guys; rolled over by the Music Industry, in many cases, and abandoned on the side of the road.

I love ‘em all. I’m not sure why, guess I like to root for the underdogs?

RecDave Seal

We all have our semi-secret, less-known personal favorites — a great B-side, an early work by an artist that later became famous, an obscure (but delicious) family recipe. Share one of your unsung heroes with us — how did you discover it? Why has it stayed off everyone’s radar?

Can I have a bucket of title, extra-crispy please?

Hmm, Anti-Bucket List, this sounds like a wallow in negativity—that should be easy, right?

Except I haven’t really thought of it before. Annie (on hearing topic) popped in with “Jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.” And yes, I’ve expressed that viewpoint before; most extreme sports hold negative interest for me. Life’s much too short and precious to risk it for a momentary thrill, I just can’t imagine being that kind of adrenaline junkie.

Tattoos. Annie has one and Brad’s getting one—nothing against theirs; they do own the canvases. But me—no, no thank you. Various kinds of piercings fall under the same general heading, just plain not for me.

Crowds. Most “whopping enormous crowd of people” events are fun-negative projects, for me. Parades, no thanks. Firework displays HELL no. Even Zoos make me a little uncomfortable. At parties I tend to gravitate away from the noise, participating from the fringes. If you have to park a mile away and walk in to a Thing, it’s probably not for me.

High places. No, I’m not phobic. But see: skydiving, high places are just pointless.

Stick Shifts. At this point in my life? I’ve avoided learning to drive a stick (easily) for this long, no reason to start now.

Ice events. No “on ice” shows of any kind, no hockey, ice fishing…nope. Let’s do something warm instead.

Flashing lights. Strobes really, really bother me since the stroke. This one’s actually physical discomfort, instant headaches. Combine flashing lights with Noise and the Crowds, and nightclubs are just a “hell no”.

And I’m running out of immediate ideas which is OK. I sound pretty twitchy already, right?

RecDave Seal

These things feel a little bare without the pingback links, don’t they?

What are the top items on your anti-bucket list — those things you never, ever want to do, places you never want to visit, books you never want to read, etc.?

Poets Pointing Pistols, Precarious!

Any time I sit down and try to write this stuff
But my brain is free of good ideas and such
Cause I should be getting sleep but doing this instead
Daily Prompts are just something that get into my head

Every one is different at least there’s that to say
For every good idea there’s a hundred bad each day
Golly I just can’t tell you how to unstick your head
Hope that some great idea finds your brain instead

I just repeated a couplet that I used higher up
Just suspect that’s cheating; the way my brain works, yup
Kibitzing and self-editing, “Man does that rhyme limp”
Loser writing poetry with all the skills of chimp

Man this post just seems like it is crazy long indeed
Nothing to be gained by devoting time to read
Oh you poor readers, I humbly offer my amends
Pickling your brains like this, surely must offend

Quit griping and write some more, you silly useless git
Reading this is painful but just keep typing it
So you can end this prompt and move on to the next thing
Tomorrow surely will the prompt some better fortune bring

Unless it draws a blank of inspiration like it often does
Very often my brain just limps through a prompt because
Well I’ll stop whining now here comes the hardest bit
“Xenogamy”, a pollen thang, shut up and deal with it

You have no complaints, at least you didn’t have to write
Zyzzyvas, 44 scrabble points! Finally I’m done, good night.

RecDave Seal

Write down the letters of the ABC. For each one, choose a word that begins with that letter. Now, write a post about anything — using all the words you’ve selected.

Lemandria is rolling over in her virtual grave.


Ding dong, the witch is… Uh oh.

“Begone, fool!” Angrat exclaimed, stamping her foot with an explosive report against the throne room dais.

The shock wave exploded outward from the impact, erupting violently in all directions. As it grew, it gathered before it all of the wind and snow that was Angrat’s to command. The tide crested as it rumbled down the Great Hall towards me. And I threw up my arms to protect my head as tons of snow and ice broke over me with tsunami force, and I was transported away.


The first impression is “dark”. Followed, in short order, by “cold” and “weight”. I can’t move much, clearly I’m trapped. It takes a little while, working through all of the other sensations, but eventually the memory of Angrat’s sneering face surfaces and…

She’s buried me.

Angrat is, in the simplest terms to understand, a witch. Both nasty and powerful. Her sphere of magical influence is over Winter; cold, ice, snow, wind, hail, the whole gallery. That huge stomp she just used on me has to be one of her most potent effects, snow wave combined with a teleport. Get rid of your enemies and bury them with an avalanche. Disagreeable, right?

Wherever it is that she’s sent me, it’s sure to be very, very cold. And given her disposition, far from hearth or comfort or civilization.

Well, there’s no help for it.

“Lights please,” I summon one of my earliest cantrips. It doesn’t do much, of course. Centered on my right hand, several feet away through the packed snow, it’s still pretty dark. I concentrate, turn up the intensity a bit, and begin to see a dim red glow in that direction, which grows much brighter as I wiggle my arm.

The snow seems fairly loosely packed around my arm; I conclude with some relief that it hasn’t settled yet, or isn’t very deep. I am able to work my hand up to my face, and clear snow from around my face, providing more breathing room.

“Compass.” Another general-utility cantrip, which just produces a small, glowing pointer that is always aimed North. Noting that it’s fairly level with my perspective, I conclude that I’m almost upright in the bank of snow, and that “Up” lies in that direction.

So far, so good. Not exactly dressed for the outdoors, I am dressed only in a light tunic. Snow is insulating though, and I probably won’t freeze to death immediately. Not until the snow melts and the fabric gets soaked through, anyway.

“Wish I was one of those fire mages,” I mutter to myself while pondering my situation.

Shoving my lighted hand in the “up” direction proves to be quite difficult. The snow is harder to move through now as it settles. But I am relieved to feel my hand break through the snow’s surface into the open air. Fairly shallow, I’ve heard it’s possible (through rare) for hikers and such in the mountains to extricate themselves from a shallow avalanche.

I’m mentally flipping through my list of spells for today, there surely must be something I can use. But the problem is, I’m an Illusionist. Most of my spells are simple projections, light and…ooh, that’s an idea.

One of my spells includes a minor heat component. Nothing like what a Fire mage can do, of course, but it is warm enough to melt snow, if you’re in no great hurry about it.

So I conjured up a Sunbeam, focused on my right hand (the one already glowing with light of the more standard pure-illusion sort). A beam came down from above, narrowly focused, about five feet in radius around my hand, roughly equivalent to the brightest summer sun. And I began to feel a trickle running down my arm, melt-off from above.

In a half dozen hours I had enough snow melted away to fight free and pull myself, soggy, wet, and cold, out of the avalanche. I rolled quickly up out of the depression left by my body, and onto a moss-covered rock. Looking around me as I focused another Sunbeam spell to warm me and dry my clothes. I might have a bit of sunburn later, but I suspected that would be the least of my worries.


From the looks of things, I was pretty high up in the mountains. Turning about slowly I could see only rock and snow, in every direction, to the limit of my vision.

It looked to be a very long walk home.

RecDave Seal

You were caught in an avalanche. To be rescued, you need to make it through the night. What thought(s) would give you the strength to go through such a scary, dangerous situation?

Trudging across the tundra, mile after mile

The perfect day

The Perfect day might already be shot.

Difficult to explain: My perfect day involves no responsibilities, no obligations, no special plans, nothing that needs to be accomplished (except things I genuinely want to do, of course).

But I need (<–a danger word that indicates a value of ‘fun-negative’) to nip out and do a little bit of shopping.

Bzzzzzt! Don Pardo: “We’re sorry, but thank you for playing, and please accept these lovely consolation prizes as you go.”

Shopping isn’t one of those ‘enjoyable’ activities. It’s damned cold outside, and I need to get dressed and go out in it. Brrr-rrr. (Collecting a lot of fun-negative expressions, see?)

Optimism: Still, maybe a truly perfect day isn’t possible. But maybe, after the quick shopping trip is quickly knocked off the list, we can get back to enjoying the rest of the day!

Bzzzt! “You forgot about those dishes waiting in the sink.”

Dammit! Being a grown-up sucks.

Bzzzzt! “Remember, your car needs gas.”


The perfect day is drained away by the application of a series of minor irritants?

Well, only if you rely on absolute expressions like “perfect” and “ruined”. This is how pessimists wreck their lives; black and white, on or off, binary thinking, bifurcation. It’s a bad habit and bad thought process (that I surrender to far too frequently). Perfectionists feel if the entire day isn’t…well, perfect…it’s all just totally “ruined”. Perfected or wrecked. No grey area between.

I can get all these things done, and still have a “Pretty Damn Good” day. A minus, almost as good as A plus!

And maybe collect some valuable Wife Points as a bonus! Trade them in for Cash and Prizes. Sweet!!

Need to go get that shopping and run-around done now, later folks.

RecDave Seal

What’s your idea of a perfect day off: one during which you can quietly relax, doing nothing, or one with one fun activity lined up after the other? Tell us how you’d spend your time.

Don’t chase Perfection and just enjoy it



Edit: Post-Run-Around Update

Well, it was cold, as expected (fun-minus). On the other hand, it was bright and sunshine-y, rather that the usual Chicagoland gray, grey, grae (fun-plus). Got parked in for a little while by a landscaping truck (fun-minus), but the gas tank was less hungry than I expected (fun-plus).  All in all, a solid “meh” experience. Call it a wash.

Now, on to those dishes (le sigh).


AndaPandaStarEdit: Update Part Deux

Turns out Annie did the dishes last night, so there were relatively few left from this morning, and they were quick to knock out. Which made me all thoughtfully happy and maybe a little bit smarmy even.

So I’ve been mucking around doing a quicky-illustrator cool beans medal of honor (or something) badge…cause I’m a doofus for stuff like that, and it’s more fun than watching idiot box.

You know, the day’s not turning out too bad after all; a wise man would learn something from that.

Good thing there aren’t many of those ’round here.