Caper Away Productions

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Scattered across the carpet, a nonsense collection of small, block-bodied people, their accessories, and the building blocks of their civilization. A dozen projects half-started. Another dozen finished yet now partially dismantled, the choice bits mined for new projects. It’s easier to take what is on hand rather than sliding open the bins and fishing through the thousands of loose parts. Those bins– two bins, four-foot high with seven transparent drawers– stand beneath a lonely dartboard and its cork backdrop. Neither have felt the sting of a dart in eleven years. The same cannot be said for feet, which have often felt the darkness sting of hard, plastic blocks.

In the midst of the sea of plastic detritus there sits a pirate ship from another land of the licensed. It has one stiff sail, red with a yellow swoosh motif. A dragon’s head is its bowsprit. This toy trireme has six oars per side but these look more like fins. The body of the ship rests upon sizable squares of green, seemingly beached next to a squat home with an uneven red roof and the skeletal remains of a walking machine exiled from science fiction.  There is no sign of the carpet sailing vessel’s crew.

[My warm-up for the week is writing about things I can see from where I write. A warm-up is 15 minutes of writing. No self-editing is the goal. Just 15 minutes hammering on the keys. After 15 minutes, I am allowed to clean up spelling and grammar errors, but the rest must stay as is. Similar to my previous (abandoned) ritual called “20 Minutes.”]


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