March 1, 2017 Scribble

You can read this if you wish although it consists of thoughts and fragments as I attempt to free write 750 words every day. Some of this may end up in a Story or a Conversation. Anyway, this is how one learn and shapes up The Craft.

I followed a link to a website offering space to write at least 750 words a day. What a novel idea! Then I found out they wanted monthly money to host my smatterings. I would charge too. Then it hit me: I already host my own blog. I’ll just practice writing there. DUH! So, here is today’s 750 words of whatever comes to my head.

All last year my cousin Amber posted a daily sunset photo. I liked those and she was really getting good. Now, the goal is over, and she posts when she can. I wish she would start a new series; I miss them.








“This is your downtown. It is so quite.”

“It’s the middle of the week. All of the good stuff happens on the weekend.”

My thought, “We’re really a very quite place.”

It’s true: Las Vegas isn’t like Philadelphia with all the honking. We stick to ourselves. And keep quite. It reminds me of my small town. Not too much noise there either. Even the protest at the federal court for the Bundy Clan is fairly quite. Maybe they get louder on the weekend when I’m at home.

The tourists headed toward the Pawn Stars shop looking for some noise.


The mewing sound started an hour after I arrived at work. We moved in last week and the building still needs a few things. I think the mewing is really a drill or sander, but it could be a bull on the roof. The smell of gas hit my nose yesterday. It turns out a worker on the roof forgot to turn off the gas on his welder. The gas cloud dissipated after a few minutes. We still need to put up our supplies: boxes of stuff clogs the hallway.

I wonder the identities of the two rich tourists planning to fly around the moon. What does that cost and who can pony up the money? Elon Musk says it will be the farthest man has flown in deep space in 40 years. I think once you are out there on a five-day orbital camping trip, it really doesn’t matter how far you’ve flown. It will probably be remembered as the time the private astronauts clogged up the toilet. Remember that time we went around the moon and ran out of toilet paper because you used it all? I think there is probably only so many photos you can take of the moon with earth rising.

I used to ask my dad what life was like in the olden days? Understand for him, the olden days had barely happened. For me, 1945 seemed like ancient history. For him, it was his childhood. Yesterday, I popped in my CD or Billy Joel’s The Stranger album. I first had this album on cassette. My kids think that is ancient technology. I thought LPs were primitive. I remember slogging through the tape looking for a song. At least on the record you could pick up the needle and land on a song. Of course, hauling a turntable around wasn’t going to work so we settled on tape cassette players. The first one I had could record! Then I received a Walkman. Boy was I cool walking around with my headphones and my portable cassette deck.

Anyway, The Stranger album came out in 1977 and still sounds fresh. At least I think so. My kids will wonder why I’m listening to music from the olden days. I wonder why my dad didn’t slap me.

The Mint 400 cars are parading down Las Vegas Boulevard outside my window. A line of burly jeep-like and sand wagons blocking cross traffic. There is a small one that looks like a modified Suzuki. Must be from Pakistan. Everyone watching the spectacle. So much for a quite downtown.

March either comes in like a lion or goes out like a lamb. The blue and red striped flag hangs down across the street with only a faint breeze moving it around. March arrived today like a lamb. At the end of the month, I expect to see Charlie Brown wrapped up in kite string with a broken kite by his side sitting under the flag as it blows straight out to the east.

© 2017, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.

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