why is it absurd to sing
of having a dream where
he kissed your knees?
i would kiss your feet just
to sing such a dream —
and everyone would find
my acts even more obscene
absurd obscenity
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absurd obscenity
casting runes — 07feb26
ansuz finding myself at ash
i can ride branches
i can ride roots
i can also sit just so
the call comes of stone
and of deep, so
it's there my spirit
will dwellA poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is ansuz, which has a core meaning “a god” (intended to be Odin), “mouth” or “breath”. Odin is representative of many, many things… in this case, ansuz is most representative of the mouth/breath (speech) that gives life to poetry, magic, song, language, and spirit — largely inseparable in the Viking worldview — and Odin is considered the supreme master of these intertwined concepts. By way of the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the rune is named æsc, which is translated to “ash”, a tree associated with Odin and is representative of resilience and strength.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
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casting runes — 07feb26
Dead zone — flash fiction
See my notes in this post about the prompted flash fiction pieces on this site about personal drivers and rules I use while writing them.
Plot Elements to Include (all prompts and genre randomly suggested by Gemini AI):
- The Object: A heavy, brass-bound radio that doesn’t receive signals from this decade.
- The Setting: A city perpetually covered in coal-dust fog where sound is regulated by the government.
- The Conflict: The protagonist discovers a “dead zone” where the fog clears, revealing a sky that hasn’t been seen in fifty years.
Genre: Dieselpunk / Alt History
“Gimme your ETA for finishing Delta sector baffler maintenance, Zed-Ought-Three-Stroke-Seven-Ex. We’ve got a situation in Epsilon and you’re needed immediately. Dispatch over.”
Cinder let dispatch stew for a few moments before responding. She’d been done fixing the bafflers ten minutes ago but had quickly learned that being too much of a go-getter in City Maintenance just go-got you more thankless tasks and a fistful of disgruntled coworkers to boot. No one liked a brownnoser, including the bosses because then they had to find more make-work for you and explain to their superiors why that was the case. And if their superiors thought there were inefficiencies in the system, they would reduce the workforce to account for those inefficiencies, keeping only the overachievers, who would then be saddled with more work than they could handle on their own. Let no good deed go unpunished was the unofficial motto of the dome maintenance worker.
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Dead zone — flash fiction
A few notes about stories & prompts
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash As I mentioned a few days ago, I am going to try to increase my output of short fiction on the site to stretch out those muscles in that part of my brain which have atrophied somewhat in the past few years.
I feel that I should provide some disclosures before publishing many more stories and to make clear what my personal rules are, and to set expectations about what you see in the coming days. Rather than post a few disclaimers for every story, I thought I’d point to this post. It is intended to be a living document and I will modify it as needed to clarify or correct its contents.
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A few notes about stories & prompts
casting runes — 06feb25
dagaz quiet on the borderlands
just wind singing fences
pushing puddles melted snow
waiting wolves ache to break freeA rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is dagaz, which has been translated as “daybreak”, that transitional moment between night and day. By extension, it might also be interpreted as “twilight” and is representative of liminality, transformation, the space between worlds, and suggests walking in both the material world and otherworld.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
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casting runes — 06feb25
Half-penny thoughts — 05feb26
I am probably the only person in the world annoyed with this, but the rampant use of acronyms like O.G. (“original gangster”) for everything and anyone, and G.O.A.T. (“greatest of all time”) bugs me in ways that I can’t express.
Under current usage, someone can apply O.G. to Bob Dylan for his crossover folk/rock music. And there are bound to be people who are certain he is the G.O.A.T.
The first (O.G.) was the headscratcher when my eldest used it in reference to the post-punk band Joy Division (active 1976-1980). Having grown up in a neighborhood where O.G. meant something entirely different, I made a scrunched up face to let her know that I was almighty confused by what she had said. “Echo and the Bunnymen” was another band that she labeled O.G.
Now, I’m lame and out of touch, but I was trying to understand just how Joy Division were original gangsters… She then informs me as to the current meaning, which is applied to when what most people I know will think “old school” will work just fine. The Cure? O.G. goth? Wut?
Don’t get me started as to how silly “greatest of all time” sounds when you critically think about it. Before, now and forever? Really? Will you even remember the person you called a GOAT in three years? And yes, it is bandied about with flash-in-the-pan personalities even more than long-standing talent of all kinds.
Am I just an old fuddy-duddy? Or do you find some of these things to be just outright silly (“SIXSEVEN!”)? Are there slang quirks that bother you? Do you really hate it when I say “Groovy, man”? Do I need to get to hepcat and quit being so square?
Please note: I am not mortally offended by any these things, but they do seem quite silly and absurd in terms of slang developments over the years. Keep comments, should you have any, lighthearted and fun.
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Half-penny thoughts — 05feb26
casting runes — 05feb26
uruz spring moult, rough granite
aids to cast off old morns
gathering on melting snows;
an amble off to new moorsA rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is uruz. The rune is named after the now-extinct aurochs, a wild ox and has become associated with standing up to challenges, having both confidence and courage, stubborn tenacity, and boundless strength and health. Uruz is alternately associated with the more raw elements which include rain, primordial potential, and the slag/dross cast away during the making of iron.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
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casting runes — 05feb26
wild horse
with talons in scalp & neck
with gravel voice inside head
black blade scraping skull
within red cedar rising tall...
someone rode their wild horse
& that someone was not meTo like, click comments or:
wild horse
Twenty years of WordPress
I wonder if I’m eligible for the Dyson bladeless fan or if that’s 25 years…
[If not obvious, this is an example of my not-very-funny sense of humor. WordPress does not give out anniversary gifts as far as I am aware.]
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Twenty years of WordPress
It Never Rains in Southern California — prompted flash fiction
I’ve decided to up my flash fiction output after trying out two of the prompts from Jolene’s site. I need to try and stretch out that muscle and strengthen it a bit after letting it atrophy for a long spell.
Unless otherwise specified, I am leveraging Google’s Gemini AI to give me daily prompts. I don’t currently know the frequency at which I will actually post the flash fiction developed as a response to the prompts, but probably not on a daily basis.
In this current series, I am going to explore random subgenres of speculative fiction, fantasy and horror.
Required Plot Elements (per Gemini)
- A rain-slicked neon alleyway
- A prototype “memory drive” that contains an animal the protagonist has never seen [edit: I replaced “sunset” with “animal”]
- A debt collector who accepts childhood nostalgia as payment.
Genre: Cyberpunk / Noir
Someone felt the need to share their affliction for retro-premillennial oldie covers with the alleyway. As if the neon were not headache-inducing loud enough on the eyes by itself, they blared some nonsense song that echoed though the narrow chasm between decrepit brick buildings built around the same era as the music.
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It Never Rains in Southern California — prompted flash fiction
