Michael T. Miyoshi's Blog, page 63

Deconstructing Emoticons

A writer acquaintance who I am following on Twitter and who I introduced in my blog as the caretaker of #6words told me that I am not supposed to deconstruct emoticons. Which naturally got me to thinking. Why do we deconstruct any writing in the first place?

It has been a long time since I have taken a writing class, but it seems to me that we ought to take writing as it stands. Sure, we need to understand the time period in which it was written. We might even need to understand what state the...

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy?

Fresco of prophet Joel

by Michelangelo and his assistants

This work is in the public domain.

The thing about self-fulfilling prophesy is we may never know whether we said the prophesy as a prediction of our actions or if our mind controlled our actions to fulfill what our words predicted. It is a mindboggling conundrum, but one that I must tackle due to my most recent words.

Maybe I should go back a bit.

Most people would agree that self-fulfilling prophesy is when somebody says something and then...

Thank God

Praying Hands by Albrecht Dürer

This work is in the public domain.

Thanksgiving is a time of time of giving thanks for all the blessings we have in our lives. But without God, who do we thank?

I know that Thanksgiving is a national holiday for us to remember our heritage as Americans and give thanks to our forefathers for their foresight in creating this great nation. We ought to thank veterans and active duty military men and women for keeping us safe from enemies, both foreign and domestic. We...

They Used to Dance

Dance at Bougival by Renoir

This work is in the public domain.

“I remember dancing with you for the first time.”

He looked up from his book into the glistening eyes of his beautiful wife. “I remember too.” He took off his reading glasses and continued, “I saw you from across the room at that first dance class and was excited when we were paired up to dance for the mock competition. We were only about thirty seconds into the dance when the referee tapped me on the shoulder and we were out.” He sh...

Back to Haunt Me

I have this recurring nightmare. (Actually, it has only happened in the night once or twice, but it I keep thinking about it so it is really a daymare. If that is even a word.) I am on the stand at a trial, my trial (a witch hunt really), being asked if I said I was a cheater. I try to answer, “Yes, but it was tongue in cheek. It was a facetious statement. It was satire,” but I get cut off and the lawyer asks that everything but the “Yes” gets stricken and that the judge hold me in contempt....

Cheater

I must admit that I am a cheater. But do not tell the Twitter police.

When it comes to #TwitterFiction, I do not follow the rules. Or at least the rules that I perceive to be in place for such endeavors. Twitter fiction and flash fiction and short, short, short fiction seem to dictate that the author sit down and just compose something in the moment. That there is no forethought or planning. That whatever comes out, comes out. So when I write Twitter fiction, I suppose that my audience (whethe...

It Is Not Funny

Something had to give. She hated practical jokes. He loved them. Fortunately, she loved him.

“Honey, would you turn out the living room lights and close the drapes?” It had just gotten dark so she playfully added, “You know how I hate the thought of the boogie man peeking in.”

There was no answer.

“Honey?”

The only sound was laughter coming from the TV.

“Did you hear me?”

She turned off the TV and listened. She heard the upstairs TV. Sports of some sort. She grumbled. “It figures. He goes upstairs...

She Jumped Me

Original photograph licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

She jumped me. And then, I fell in love.

She had parked right next to me for months and we had only said a few words to each other in that time. We either said hello when we got there at the same time or goodbye when we were leaving. But that was about all. We worked in next door businesses. When we saw each other in the parking lot, we would nod, wave, smile at each other, or even speak those few words. Then one day after work, my car greeted me...

A Winning Lottery Ticket

I have a winning lottery ticket. It and the worn out number selection card are framed and hanging above my desk. The ticket is faded. The card is crumpled and well used. It ought to be. It sat in my glove box for years so I could access it for my weekly trip to the convenience store.

When visitors see the number selection card and ticket, they simply state my method, “You picked the same numbers all the time.”

I nod. “Yep.”

Then, they see the two framed articles right next to the lottery ticke...

A Boy and His Truck

I hope you like my first try at #TwitterFiction. If you want to see it in its Twitter form, follow me on Twitter (@MichaelTMiyoshi).

A Boy and His Truck

There once was a boy with a truck; it was red

Nothing could get between them ‘twas said

It was not that he loved that old truck, no sirree

It just seemed that it was part of his family.

The boy was alone with his little old truck

He had sworn off all women, ‘cause in love he’d no luck

Then he went off to high school to teach a math class

That’s whe...