Alphabet Soup

A friend of mine texted me a screenshot yesterday. She said they could work for writing prompts. I dunno, she could be right.


Picture two stoners sitting on an old, raggedy couch, passing the pipe back and forth, a forgotten cigarette smoldering in the ashtray on the coffee table before them. In my mind’s eye, they both happen to be clones of my first ‘serious’ boyfriend: long, straggly hair, band tees, jeans that could use a good washing and mending, and faded black Converse. For some reason, one is wearing a pink beanie. A TV sits on the entertainment center in front of them, complete with bouncing Sanyo screensaver.

“Dude, you ever look at m?”


“No, man, the letter m. It’s weird as shit.”

“I guess, man, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just, you know, is it really just an upside down w? Or am I going  crazy?”


“Hey, are you hungry?”

Ten Minutes

Tonight, I got nothing. So I set a timer for ten minutes, and we’ll see what we get.

We went to a philosophy group meeting earlier tonight. I wasn’t up for writing about it because it’s late and I have to get up early, but I will tomorrow. And it will be entertaining.

I did warn them, when we were going around the room introducing ourselves. I’m a writer, I’m just here for fodder.

I meant it, but I had no idea what I was getting into.

In other news, I have to figure out what I’m going to do for my brother’s graduation next month. Someone, either my brother or my mother, initially gave us the wrong date, and now that we know the right date, it’s too late for Ian to get someone to work for him, so he can’t go.

I’m not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. No special reason, just don’t wanna. You know? Bleh.

What else? I’m going to make jello shots this weekend with some chocolate covered pretzel vodka. Surprise, Ian! He didn’t know about this. I have to figure out what to mix it with, though. Any suggestions? Maybe chocolate soda. I don’t know if I can still find that at the store.

Here’s some news. I’m ghostwriting a book. It’ll be coming out in installments, and the first one will be out next month, in time for some kind of convention. It’s a fair gig. I was recruited for editing, but I don’t think he was aware that what he was really asking for was a ghostwriter, not a copy editor.


Seriously. No inspiration right now.

Nothing. Nada. Zip.

Little known fact about me: my best friend and I practiced saying the alphabet backwards as fast as we could just in case that was ever a sobriety test. When we were twelve-ish, so well before we were drinking and driving. Not that we planned to drink and drive. This was just something to do that we could stump a cop with one day. Anybody else have a story like that?
Anybody else able to say the alphabet backwards in less than four seconds?


I spent far too much time not typing.

This is not an impressive post.

I probably should have opened the nearest book and put my finger on a word and written about that for ten minutes. I think I’ll do that tomorrow. It could be entertaining. Or I could rewrite my story. But don’t worry, I’m definitely writing about our philosophy group meeting.