Sometimes you show up to dance, and then you don’t feel like dancing.
I am 100% forcing myself to write something, anything, as I am running out of time today. The goal here, as it is every day, is to at least write 250 words. And for the past hour, I have been looking at Wikipedia pages, and listening to music. I also digressed to looking at Block Island on a map, and thought about making plans to go there. Though, I’m pretty sure I won’t be going there this year.
See, I had a real tight schedule today to get everything done. This included moving the car, grocery shopping, journaling, working out, and getting a blog done. The one thing that looks like it will get left off is reading a new book of short stories that I have, and have also been putting of reading for a month now. I thought if I scheduled time to read, instead of reading when I felt like it, I would get a jump on the book… didn’t work out like I thought.
I do have a procrastination problem. I can admit that.
I think if I had a choice, I would always choose a nap. And that’s what I have been fighting all day.
But here I am, trying to check all the boxes for today. Trying to feel like I accomplished something. That I followed through when I said I would. I do have a good chunk of the day left, but that will be occupied by picking up the kid and getting her to soccer practice.
I am sticking my toes in, and dabbling a little more with AI. You know, to see how it works, and also to hunt down the ghost in that ChatGPT machine.
I have been reading about people using AI to write a “first draft” of letters and reports, and then they go through and make the text sound more human and personal. The thought I had this morning was what would happen if I reversed that process. What if I fed to AI, ChatGPT in this case, was an old blog from May 6th, 2024, and asked it to rewrite the post to make it funnier and more accessible.
This is what it produced:
Something weird has been happening to me over the past couple of years—I’ve developed an unstoppable urge to buy blue clothing. Not just any blue, but deep, rich, “navy captain who lost his ship” blue. Oxford button-down? Yes. Jeans so blue they make the ocean jealous. Absolutely. I’m even considering a blue suit for a wedding, because nothing says “I’m here to celebrate love” like looking like a well-dressed blueberry.
And then there’s my newfound appreciation for khakis paired with a blue shirt. A strong combo, but I swear, if I ever add a puffer vest to complete the look, you have full permission to slap me. Hard. Unless, of course, I’m working deep undercover as a Finance Bro infiltrating a hedge fund happy hour.
Not sure why this is happening, but it’s happening. My wardrobe is slowly turning into a monochrome tribute to the color blue, and I have no control over it.
At first, I thought maybe it was some deep, psychological reflection of my mental state—was I subconsciously craving serenity? Was I low-key depressed? But no, I feel neither particularly Zen nor like I need to stare wistfully out of rain-streaked windows.
To mix things up, I started throwing on my old army coat over my blue shirts, hoping it would give me that rugged Quint from Jaws energy. In my head, I’m a grizzled, sea-hardened badass. In reality? Probably just a guy who looks like he got dressed in the dark at an Army-Navy surplus store.
Is this a middle-age thing? A subtle cry for help? Or have I just reached the evolutionary stage where a man must choose his signature color, and mine happens to be “50 Shades of Blue”?
Does blue make me stand out? Blend in? Who knows. But if that blue comes in a plaid pattern. Game over. I have to own it. It’s like some kind of involuntary response—I see a blue plaid shirt, and my brain just whispers, “Yes. This is who we are now.”
The evidence is stacking up: blue pajamas, navy ballcap, even my car is blue. Sure, my wife technically picked it out, but I’m pretty sure the universe was just reinforcing my aesthetic destiny.
It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I wore a lot of black—back in my pretentious arts phase, which overlapped nicely with my stage crew phase (a time when I believed dressing like an off-duty ninja was peak coolness).
Maybe I’ll grow out of this blue obsession. Maybe I’ll evolve into a paisley guy. Or worse… argyle.
And here was my original:
Something happened to me over the past couple of years, where if I go shopping for clothes, I want to buy the color blue. I especially like the color navy, but wouldn’t pass up the blue of an oxford style button down shirt. The bluer the blue jeans, the better, and I’m even thinking about getting a blue suit for a wedding I’m supposed to attend. I’m even starting to like the look of khaki pants, and a blue shirt, but swear to God, if I add a puffer vest to that look, you should walk up to me and slap the hell outta my face… unless I’m working undercover as a “Finance Bro.”
I’m not sure why this is happening, but I know that it is.
I thought that it could be a reflection of my mental state, but I feel neither depressed nor calm and relaxed.
I started putting on my old army coat when I have a blue shirt on. I would like to believe that I look like Quint, but I know that’s not true.
Is this a middle age thing? Does blue help me stand out, or blend in?
And if the blue is in a plaid pattern, good lord, I have to own it.
I have blue pajamas. A navy blue ballcap. My car is blue, but the wife did pick it out, but still…
There was a time when I wore a lot of black, but that was my pretentious arts phase, which coincided with my stage crew phase.
Maybe I’ll grow out of it. Maybe I move into a paisley phase.
Clearly, I am the better writer. I’m also funnier, as the AI seems to be trying way too hard to fit in a joke.
When I was a teenager, and well into my twenties and beyond, I spent hours debating with my friends about the mechanics, tropes, and clichés of horror movies. How most horror movies, more than any other genre of film, are made up of an uncountable number of rip offs and copies of more successful horror movies. For myself, as a person who loves awful movies, bad horror films are an entertaining gift that just keeps on giving.
So, when I started reading Mario Aliberto III’s “Something Out of a Horror Movie,” I was intrigued as to what he was wanting to accomplish is this flash fiction story. It reads like it was written but someone who loves the awful character clichés of the genre. What I appreciated in this piece was that as I started reading it, I couldn’t put my finger on if this is a story about characters in a horror movie, or if they are characters in “real life” that find themselves in a horror movie situation, or if these are characters that have seen too many horror movies and went to that places because of the situation they were in. By doing that, structuring the story that way, left me feeling off balance which played very well to the theme of the piece, and ultimately the climax of the story.
But what I enjoyed most was that this story took a stock clichéd character that I have seen in millions of horror movies, and made me think of her differently, and also made me view her actions in a fully well-rounded way for that character. Aliberto does this rather effortlessly, and compactly. The last paragraph is just great.
I will never look at the Bad Girl trope character the same way again.
(In a city of the future it is difficult to concentrate…)
(Image created by AI)
Today, I’m too tired to write my blog, so AI is taking over. While I rest, it effortlessly strings words together, capturing my thoughts with precision. No brainstorming, no editing—just a seamless flow of content. It’s fascinating how AI can mirror my style, keeping my readers engaged even when I lack the energy. Technology has become my writing assistant, ensuring consistency and creativity without burnout. Maybe I’ll take advantage of this more often. For now, I’ll sit back, recharge, and let AI handle the words. Who knew laziness and productivity could go hand in hand?
Old ladies in New York City are the toughest, meanest people you’ll ever meet. They’ve seen it all, and they have zero patience for nonsense. They’ll shove past you on the subway, glare at you if you’re walking too slow, and scold you like you’re their grandkid. Try cutting in line at the deli? You’ll get an earful. Hold up a bus because you’re fumbling with your MetroCard? Expect a sharp sigh and a muttered insult. They’ve earned their attitude through decades of city life, and honestly, they might be the real bosses of New York.
Radiohead’s Palo Alto is a cynical take on the heart of Silicon Valley, portraying it as a soulless, corporate dystopia. The lyrics describe a futuristic city obsessed with technology, wealth, and progress but devoid of real human connection. The song’s narrator expresses alienation and dissatisfaction, sarcastically calling it a “city of the future” while feeling lost in its artificial environment. It critiques consumerism, isolation, and the emptiness of modern life, themes that Radiohead often explores. Beneath the upbeat, distorted guitars, Palo Alto is a bleak reflection on a world where innovation outpaces humanity’s ability to find meaning.
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Let me know if you want it in a different tone or style!
– The introduction sets a relatable stage, but consider providing more context about AI’s role in your writing process to deepen reader engagement.
– The transition between topics feels sudden. Adding a connective phrase or sentence could enhance flow and coherence.
– The section about New York City’s old ladies is vivid and entertaining. However, balancing humor with a touch of warmth could enrich the narrative.
– The critique of Radiohead’s song is insightful, yet it might benefit from a more personal reflection. Share your own thoughts or experiences related to the themes to create a stronger connection with readers.
– The reminder encourages interaction, but consider making it more personable or integrating a question to invite discussion.
(The flash fiction story “Good Girls” by Martha Keller was first published in Milk Candy Review on September 19th, 2024.)
One of the many things that I love about flash fiction, as a form of storytelling, is that it lends itself quite well to writers willing to play with the structure and the form that a narrative can take. Martha Keller accomplishes this deconstruction of a traditional narrative, rather well in her piece “Good Girls,” which appeared in Milk Candy Review back in September of 2024.
After an opening paragraph, which describes the immortal clashes between girls on swings and boys who wish to remove them, the story takes on a narrative structure of examining consequential moments of life, every five years. What Keller uniquely creates is not a linear progression, but more like a retrograde motion, starting at the age of 30, and descending to a newborn. This format enables the reader to compare the desires and aspirations of each age, but highlighting specifically how what is important at a certain age, wasn’t even on the horizon just five years before. In considering this structure, it plays with a level of menace that seems just below the surface in each of these ages. How in each age, something is sought and even acquired, but the feeling of it being taken away is also present, which goes back to the opening paragraph of the girls on the swings and the boys wanting to take that from them.
“Good Girls” is very efficient and succinct as a flash piece; only 400+ words. Keller doesn’t waste any time in this story. This directness coupled with the unique structure of its narrative creates an insightful work of flash fiction.
