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[ website | David Scott Moyer ]
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This week's writing assignment. [Aug. 2nd, 2014|06:47 am]
This week, we were given paint samples and had to write something using all of the names of the colors. Mine is a bit of a vignette. The colors are in italics.

Mathilde and Clarence were doing an approximation of the Hokey Pokey over by the coffee urns. The sound of sirens two blocks over on Orchard Street synced oddly with their musicless dance. Just smile, I thought, and I made my way over to the table at which Stone Brown, our newest resident, had spread his massive breakfast. He glowered at my approach, and crammed a fudge bar into his cavernous mouth. His triple-extra large t-shirt featured a faded image of one of the Spice Girls, was it Pepper Spice? I could never remember all of their names. I sat across from him, trying to ignore the melted chocolate that threatened to drip from his chin on to the Spice Girl. “Good morning, Mr. Brown! Welcome to St. Germaines!”
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This week's writing group assignment: "Monsoon" [Jul. 18th, 2014|07:34 pm]
The staccato patter of water woke him. He shifted his head on the sweat-soaked pillow, pointing his bleary eyes towards the window. Only a dim, grey light penetrated the curtains. Could it finally be here? Had he slept through the opening salvos of thunder? His sense of direction, waking more slowly than his hearing, disabused him of the hopeful thought. The sound was coming from the bathroom: Damien in the shower.

Waking had activated his bladder. He separated himself from the damp sheets he had tossed and turned on all night and shuffled out into the back yard to pee. He picked the thirstiest looking tree, a difficult choice, and made his morning donation, looking up at the tantalizingly grey sky as he did so. As it so often did at this time of year, the lyric of a Sting song came to mind: "Heavy cloud, but no rain." He forgot the name of the song or what it was about, but he was pretty sure it wasn't Tucson. One had to live in the desert southwest to fully understand the powerful need of all of its denizens for the healing sustenance of rain after months without. He had spent his first four months here laughing at his friends back home, bragging about temperatures in the 70's and 80's during winter. Then, in May, it started getting really hot, and he developed a growing respect for the plants and creatures that endured here. The last six weeks had been progressively hotter and more humid, belying the "dry heat" cliche so often repeated through the rest of the year. A week ago his swamp cooler had changed from an efficient, economical cooling device to a sweat circulator, doing little more than moving the damp air about.

The shower had stopped when he stepped back inside, and Damien was on the couch, making his other ritual water sound, the bubble of a bong. Doing the "wake 'n' bake" again. Jake had no idea how Damien functioned all day, constantly stoned. Some people simply had that ability, he guessed. Damien flipped back his perfect dreads and started rolling a spliff for later.

"How do you survive it?" Jake asked.

"What, mon?"

"This weather! I am sweating like a pig, my clothes are moldy, I can't sleep through the night."

"It gets easier after your first summer, mon."

"Everybody tells me that. I guess if I make it through this one, I'll find out. What drives me crazy is the daily tease. First the weatherman gives you an arbitrary percentage chance of rain, then the clouds build up over the mountains or Green Valley, then ... nothing. When will the damned rain get here?"

"Soon, mon, soon."
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The Color Red [Jul. 5th, 2014|06:42 am]
Joined a writing group. This was my first "assignment". Not thrilled with it, but it was an interesting exercise.

We see red when we are angry, yet we send red hearts when we are in love. Red is the color of Communism, and also the color of the Republican Party. Red is war and violence, and the Red Cross takes care of the victims Red means stop, red means yield, and the red line on your speedometer is full speed ahead. When you are red hot at the craps tables, you are winning. When you lose, you are in the red. Red indicates danger, and men are attracted to women wearing it. A red letter day is a good thing, a scarlet letter, not so much. Red cars are perceived as faster, red tape slows you down. Red is worn by Cardinals in the Catholic Church and by prostitutes in the Red Light District. Red is the color of Santa Claus and of Satan. Red chile peppers are hot, red cherries and apples are sweet. You wouldn't lay out the red carpet for someone you just caught red handed. Red lipstick attracts, a red herring distracts. Fast food restaurants use red in their logos because it stimulates the appetite, and poison warnings are printed in red. Shoes are Fuck Me Red, cars are Arrest Me Red, and barns are just plain Barn Red.
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Everybody is an artist [Jun. 15th, 2014|02:08 pm]

for those of you who don't follow my other lj or facebook, I have completely rebuilt my website. You might enjoy having a look around it:
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NSFW [Apr. 17th, 2014|12:18 pm]
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(no subject) [Mar. 4th, 2014|09:10 am]
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Ira Glass Tells it Like It Is [Feb. 23rd, 2014|02:31 pm]
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Travel Update [Oct. 4th, 2013|09:07 am]
Heading to Myanmar on Monday for a month. I have a 20 hour layover in Tokyo, which should be fun. After that, I expect my internet access to be spotty at best. Photos at when I return.
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Nobody even guessed on LJ, but someone got it right on FB. Caterpillar Feet. [Sep. 3rd, 2013|08:19 am]
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What are these? [Sep. 2nd, 2013|04:30 pm]
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