Once there was a prince who sat on a rock in the middle of the vast dark sea. He would sit and wait every night for a mighty golden ship that he saw once in a dream. He hoped they would stop to welcome him aboard. In order to gain their favor and to wile away the hours, he would sit and sing all night long, with his best posture and sweetest breath.
Since there wasn’t anyone to hear him he harmonized with the waves, the birds, and the stars. Sometimes he could hear so clearly that even the lighthouse pierced the horizon with a mighty pitch against swarthy sky, splitting it into new and exciting continents to explore. And sometimes he couldn’t even hear the droplets that danced pirouettes at the tip of his nose, all muffled by a wall of fog.
During certain squalls, lyrics would come to him in muddled messes, a slurry of letters here, a bucket of words there. By a miracle they would find each other in a cloud of clicks and blurts and huffs. They would whisper to each other, they would crouch, pounce and whirl, until finally they faced forward, link arms, interlock fingers and present themselves in a patchwork melody, bright and bold.
Then when he was too weary, he would close his eyes and lean against this newly crafted banner and sing himself to sleep. The wake against his toes was all that he would know of the golden ship whose crew would listen contently and smile as they sailed past.
In the 5th grade, the only science projects worth doing are the ones that blow up.
Today I’ve been trying to get elder monkey to narrow down what he is interested in doing for a Science Fair Project, because he is my son after all and procrastination is programmed in his DNA and I suspect if we don’t start now there will be tears and yelling come January. The internet has been a major fail at helping because all projects have been deemed as mundane since we unintentionally found that video of How To Breathe Fire Using Baking Soda.
Fortunately, I think I’ve distracted him enough to settle on something involving a catapult or general flinging of objects.
It’s been ages since I wrote about my day so let’s have a crack at it shall we?
After a night of strange dreams, I woke up, showered, and went to work, which was the usual.
Just for definition, here’s what the usual workday entails: I order, receive, pack and ship out the stuff we try to sell while also trying to comprehend or ignore with varying degrees of success my coworkers recapping their World of Warcraft progress, inflammatory political debate, TMI about bodily functions, rude humor, and then back inevitably to more Warcraft.
I may have acquired my first official paying client as a personal trainer. I should be excited but this kind of scares the heck out of me. I’m trying really hard not to do that thing I do where I stress out wondering if I’m capable enough since I’ve never had a paying client and then talk myself out of it before I start.
My mind was wandering all day to wanting to learn to play rugby, as it seems to have been doing a lot lately, and wishing I had a group of friends who have the time and the inclination to learn with me.
After work, I ended up at the library and checked out two books: Haroun and the Sea of Stories and it’s sequel Luka and the Fire of Life. They are fantasy children’s novels by Salman Rushdie (whose name I always misspell and turn him into a fish) written for his sons. I’ve had these particular stories in my thoughts since I found him intriguing in a radio interview and I’ve always wanted to do something similar for my own sons before they grow up, up and away.
Speaking of monkeys, after I picked them up from their church thing, elder monkey was so tired from the day he crashed right when we came home. Younger monkey then soon zonked out somewhere other than his bed, after I attempted to get him to clip his toenails by himself, but instead found him trying to clip his teeth.
I did not draw anything, paid my mortgage, and also may have allegedly only eaten chips, guacamole and a banana all day.