Shouts From Down Under

Add an Entry Well I'm stuffed if I know #everythingisaprompt

Sometimes you just fall over them. They are the stumbling stones of convenience, rather than obstacle. They are invisible to normal people, to those who walk around satisfied with their 9-5 jobbie bobbies, their white picket fence, boy and girl, Beemer in the 3 car garage along side his or her Sportster and then the boat. Or Winnebago. You have a beach to go to, even if something random in the bushes brings to mind an unwelcome missing child, or shallow grave scenario. Some prompts really aren't cheerful at all.



None of that is wrong, or bad, necessarily. I could think of far worse things to struggle with in life. Such as running out of 2 minute noodles, or finding out that 1 string just broke on my guitar.

But the rest of us, the flotsam of plotsam, the word fiddlers, the sentence crammers, the grammar grouches, the tense trolls; we aren't satisfied to just let sleeping in employees lie! NO.

We want out of that boring routine, and our minds bully us, pressure us, peer pressure us all, sneak up on us and contaminate our every thought with MORE.
We want to be the inventor. We want to create an alternate world. It might just be that we are extremely bored, as I was on the potato chip factory conveyor belt, watching each potato segment, be it plain, crinkle cut, wedges or the mashed up humble hash brown, 12 hours straight x 4 shifts (2 day, 2 night) of this would have a brain dead robotic zombie failed vampire going insane with nothing-ism.

So we see prompts. Some days it's like a spike in awareness. The colours are so much brighter, and the ambiance our flailing bodies exist within; those parameters just seem to rise up in a sea / ocean like swell of raised stimulation, and we SEE.

They are everywhere. Sometimes you just fall over them. Ok, this is sounding like a looping tape droning on in a post apocalypse elevator, long after the population has either died from starvation, infection of some sort of bio accident, or from the dreaded zombie scratch. Aren't we so unlucky that so far, mosquitoes don't cooperate so well in spreading every single disease possible. (Malaria and perhaps Ross-river-fever excepted) If it WAS the case, then there'd be such exciting possibilities available to us. So many more scenarios of gross sadness and

Prompts. That was the subject. My mind goes out on a stretchy tangent like pizza cheese when someone lifts a slice from the Dominoes Box with the Dots.

www.dominos.com.au (Don't bother trying to order from some other country. These pizzas are all ours. Not sharing, no. Anyway Aussie ones are probably way toO salty and vegemitey for youse. )



Prompts. You find them in the weirdest places, the strangest Mr Google search. Even in typos. You fondle them, or you dabble in them. You fry them or you can buy them.

http://www.kijiji.ca/v-other-musical-instrument/nanaimo/scottish-small-pipes-kit...

In an employment agency advert I read recently, some company was searching for "an experienced forklift". I never knew they could be. Just shows the things you learn, every day, while prompt pursuing or posturing.

Sometimes it may just be someone at work. And of course, there's Tumblr



But that's a big INAPPROPRIATE. So our illustrious government body thinks, even if this is a PUBLIC online centre. Sometimes I think WE are the prompts for these shiny bums behind desks to think up things to do, to make people's lives just as boring as theirs. Pitiful when you have to censor TUMBLR from your public Joe Blows and Josephine Blowes.

Seventh heaven of promptings people! Right here...

http://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php?Genname=writeprompt

And what about those who don't think to Google for prompts? (Me when I'm half asleep) Well, there's this odd site.
"For all those people who find it more convenient to bother you with their question rather than Google it for themselves"

http://lmgtfy.com/

And just so you don't become a prompt, yourself, you can remove your virtual presence.

http://www.wikihow.com/Ungoogle-Yourself

Yes, I'm stuffed if I know. I think I'm in the wrong game. Writing? Phooey. It's selling prompts where the money is hey? (Mild Language warning for the youtube video)



And finally, if you feel this wasn't a waste of a couple of minutes of your life, reading this blog entry, and you didn't think up even ONE promptation for a story, your mind still white blankness, then I have the perfect site for you that will rectify the problem.

http://www.donothingfor2minutes.com/

Sparky