Since this fine Organization has appointed me Ambassador of the Word for being a finalist in their International Flash Fiction Contest, I will happily promote their good deeds.
On November 23rd, the International Day of Words will be celebrating one more year as a Link of Humanity, celebrating the date on which the Museum of Words was inaugurated, and recognized by numerous countries and Institutions.
The César Egido Serrano Foundation encourages all writers to create and promote the initiatives that you consider most appropriate. For example: Gather people who feel the need of dialogue as the only tool against violence, and thus contribute to the coexistence between religions and cultures.
You can also upload a photo or video or comment on Facebook, or make a meeting with friends. In this way, we can demonstrate that a better world can be achieved through the use of words and dialogue. That day more than ever, the word must be the bond of humankind.
All those proposals received will be shared with all of you through our social media, emails and websites, you can send them to email@example.com
You can find more information about the International Day of Words here:
The stage is as bare as my lady’s ass in his lordship’s bedchamber.
Rough-hewn in the most knockabout way, leaving splinters in the palace lawns of the imagination. There’s many a dip ‘twixt the trap and the lip.
It fares little better than hastily strewn boards covering parched ground, and barely enough elevation to keep the understanding masses at bay.
Were one fool enough to come from out the wings, and at centre front begin a soliloquy about the beauty of the wretched arena on which he stands, to fight the resulting and justified spontaneous combustion, there would not be found one drop of piss from any a Thespian’s hose.
For who could allow this sacrilege to be spoken? Even the flag atop the pole knows that the magic is not yet arrived.
A stage without commercial trappings:
without solid doors and thick drapes,
uncluttered by pillars,
tables and chairs,
windows and fireplaces;
sans orchestra, sans balcony, sans pit.
A stage revealing all its secrets.
Profound as emptiness.
A stage in wait.
For in this world writ small (as in the globe around)
has nothing to know/ nothing to learn,
until the actor makes an entrance and prepares
to fight through our eyes and ears
to battle with those thoughts and fears
that lurk in sheltered halls.
What’s Hecuba to him?
Why – nothing.
Merely a name on a page of script,
A cue at which to turn his profile thus.
It is what Hecuba becomes to we who wait,
That turns the key upon the heavy gate.
Exposure to the internet is something like that where, in the course of five minutes, you might have extreme information flash past. You do with it what you will.
Conversely, when the same word, phrase or idea comes into your ken from extremely diverse sources in mere minutes, you take note. Such happened to me in a ten minute period a couple of days ago. It was the word ‘cunt’.
This is a word I don’t use and, after a degree of thought, don’t think many (if any) of my characters use. Maybe someone once in five years. I never restrict my characters’ vocabulary.
However, there it appeared. Not only unusually, but from two unusual places.
The first place was in an article about the names of places in London. I might expect a bit of raunch here, but I was taken aback by Gropecunt Lane. Actually, that was a bit of a double whammy, as it is both action and noun. Yet, there it was, complete with provenance and description.
What is now an incredibly rude name for a street actually served a purpose when it first got its name. Even back in the Middle Ages, plenty of towns and cities had a red-light district, including London. The C word, of course, is a pretty offensive word used to describe female body parts. A name like this implied this was a part of town with many houses of ill-repute. Other towns with this name have since changed it to “Gropecount”, “Grapecount”, “Grape Lane”, and more.
Then within five minutes, as I was reading a sports site to find out why Lionel Messi, the great Barcelona soccer player, had received a four game suspension, I found out he is a bit of a potty mouth.
Enraged by a decision by an official, he said: “la concha de tu madre” which translates as “your mother’s cunt”.
The power of words.