My writing group met yesterday, and, as we love to do, before we got down to the business of being awesome and motivating each other to set new and challenging goals, we did a few group exercises. Yesterday’s pen-pusher was an old favorite: using the next song to pop up on Pandora as a prompt, you use its title as the title of your piece, then write whatever falls out of your head while we listen to the song. Is there nothing Pat Benatar can’t do?
“Shadows of the Night”
I feel like an ass falling offa these platform shoes, but in for a penny… I don’t know whose stupid idea this was, or where this yellow mullet wig came from, but here we are, every one of us taller than 6’2, in leather bustier drag waiting to get into this club. All very underground, very “now” according to J, which doesn’t explain the 80s throwback motif of the line, most of whom will learn about the 80s in History class and probably think a Golden Girl is some kind of glittery tequila shot. But they’re liking the look of our crowd and threatening to let us in, when really all I want is to climb down offa these shoes and go eat some Thai food.
I know there’s somebody out there, except of course there isn’t. It’s those cats again. And that mariachi band up the street that thinks “midnight” is English for “start practicing.” The funny thing is, there’s always so much shit going on back there that Allen could stalk me and lie in wait if he wanted to. But he doesn’t have the guts, and whatever we had wasn’t worth all that.