music

Symbolism

photoa

 “That’s funny,” Robert Frost told Emily Dickinson. “I was twelve years old when you died. How can we be together now?”

 

That’s true,” she conceded, “but this happens every time our author hears Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Dangling Conversation.’ “

 

O now I remember,” the former conceded.  “The line: ‘..and you read your Emily Dickinson/and I my Robert Frost’ always has freaked him out.

 

“Language, symbolism in general,” the Belle of Amherst proceeded to explain, “always inspire people. Anyway we only have a short time here. Chuck McCann has recently died so our author will be reminiscing constantly about his childhood.”

 

 

Welcome back yet again to Rochelle’s  weekly Friday Fictioneers, a hundred~word story based upon a photo prompt. This week’s prompt has been supplied by Yardspinnerr

 

 

 

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The King of Squaresville

dales-symphony-2

  

Yet again Harriet nagged Chester into doing something avant~garde.

 

“Honey,” he complained, ” I know you enjoy keeping track of the latest developments in jazz, but this place is simply too modernist and new age for an old square like me.”

 

“I’ll admit it’s a little off~putting,” she conceded.

 

“I really miss the beatnik days,” he swooned.

 

“The beatnik era was all about forging ahead anyway,” she reminded him.

 

“And after their having forged enough,” he intoned wistfully, “I was quite satisfied.”

 

 

“The King of Squaresville has spoken,” she admitted. “We’ll do it your way next time.”

 

 

Dale Rogerson has supplied this week’s photo prompt for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. 

Love Italian Style

yellowstone-national-park

Sadie and Albert, after having been subjected to a lot of  stress for a prolonged period of time, finally decided to take a long vacation.

 

“Of all the places even to think of, though,” she pondered, “why Wyoming?”

 

“I told you,” he explained. “Vittorio couldn’t stop raving about it. While we’re here I intend to do nothing but practice my guitar and Italian. You can do whatever you like. The view is perfect. We can take long walks together and enjoy the scenery, and the peace and quiet.”

 

Throughout the week, Albert, true to his word, constantly practiced Italian:
“Sto, stai, sta, stiamo, state, stanno,” day and night. Even his entire guitar repertoire was mostly “La Spagnola”.

 

At the end of their trip, Sadie asked Albert: “I have one request, honey, for next year’s vacation. If you have to ask for advice, please ask someone whose name is in English?”

 

Here’s me latest contribution to What Pegman Saw

 

This week’s picture is of Yellowstone National Park

 

It was posted by K Rawson

 

 

 

hi de hi de hi de ho

It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, 1983, At twenty four years old, I’m on a plane home from Western New York, after having visited some relatives.

I can’t shake the feeling that I recognize that old black guy in front of me as a famous musician. “Duke Ellington?” I wonder. “Count Basie?”

At least one of them’s dead.

There’s a middle-aged couple next to him. The wife asks him, “Are you Cab Calloway?”

My anxiety attack is no more. I heave a sigh of relief.

I overhear Calloway say softly, “That handsome young gentleman back there won’t have to go crazy now.”

Each week Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us in Friday Fictioneers, as we write a story based upon a photo prompt.

This week’s photo was supplied by Lucy Fridkin.

st. cecilia as a metaphor and warning

“Henry and Peter made their daily trip to Erika’s House of Music at the South Bay Shopping Center.

The owner and her husband, as always, greeted them in their Austrian and German accents.

“The twenty second’s coming up,” Henry intoned.

“It’s interesting that J.F.K.was killed on the feast day of the patroness of music.”

“Yeah,” Peter reminded him. “So much of the nauseating Sexual and Cultural Revolutions of that era was set to such perfect music. A little charisma can be poisonous.”

“There’s good and bad in every era,” Henry noted as they looked around for Jimmy Page’s sheet music.

This week’s photo prompt was supplied by Bjorn Rudberg. Rochelle Wisoff~Fields guides us weekly in Friday Fictioneers, as each of us writes a hundred~word story based upon a photo prompt.

what if?

Old friends John and Cynthia, and Paul and Jane, ran into each other at a Liverpool art exhibit.

” ‘Ey Paulie”, John intoned, “Remember that band of ours? What were we, bloody Bea’les with an ‘A’?”

“Yeah”, Paul admitted. “Stu’s murder in ’60 scared us into quittin’.”

“Teachin’ at Dovedale Primary’s nice,” he went on, “But we might ‘ave done something with that.”

“Anyway”, John said, “George and Ringo are electricians and we’re all ‘appy. We should get in touch with them, Patti, and Mo later on.”

The foursome, none under seventy, hung around in an atmosphere of deafening silence.

Each week Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us in Friday Fictioneers, an attempt to write a hundred~word story based upon a photograph. This week’s Photograph was provided by Claire Fuller.

harvey in hell

“Mr. Faffner,”  Satan explained to Harvey, “On this day in 1812, Beethoven began writing a famous love letter to his Immortal Beloved.”

“Did you also know,” he continued, ‘that on July 7, 1940, Ringo Starr was  born?”

Harvey cringed, begging helplessly for an explanation.

“As Lucifer, my good man,” The Father of Lies continued, “I was in charge of music.”

“Little do you know how easily I deceive and destroy people with it.”

“People warned you not to join that band. Don’t you remember what I did to John Lennon?”

 

This week’s photo prompt is from Jan Morrill. Rochell Wisoff~Fields is our weekly Friday Fictioneers moderator.