Stuff from HitRecord

A few months ago, I signed up as a contributor to hitrecord.org, an interactive website created by Joseph Gordon Levitt (yes, that Joseph Gordon Levitt.) People can create pieces of arts and release it onto the world. Some people use others' work and remix it (create a different piece of art). For example, a poem can inspire a painting or a short film. A painting can inspire a poem or a story.

Here is a selection of some of my contributions to hitrecord.org.

FLASH FICTION #1
Summer party, swimming together in pool.

FLASH FICTION #2
Lost: Little Black Lab Named Charlie.


WRITING AT MIDNIGHT

It is quiet. It is dark. 
I can think out loud 
without anyone asking 
"Did you say something?" 
"What's that honey?" 
"Why are you talking to yourself?" 

It is quiet. It is calm. 
Everyone is asleep. 
I am alone with my thoughts. 
With my doubts and ideas. 

It is quiet. It gives me chills. 
I press PLAY on the stereo.


FLASH FICTION #3
This won't happen again, she said.

FEAR OF RATS

Late one night I was walking from down the street with my friend Liz. We just left a diner after a hearty meal. It capped off a very good day. As we approached the intersection, I saw a rat quickly run across the sidewalk. He was about ten feet away from us. It went from behind a trash can to some bushes in front of a brick wall that protected a tall apartment building.

I screamed and ran across the street, without thinking to even look both ways like my parents have taught me to do when I was a kid.

A car or a bus could have hit me. That doesn't scare me. The rat scared me.

As soon as I reached the other side of the street, I jumped on top of a bench at a bus shelter. My eyes scan the area. Liz runs after me. She is also scared, but not because of the rat.

After standing on top of the bench for a couple of minutes, I get down and we continue walking. It was the next block when she started laughing. "You should have seen the look on your face," she said, "and the way you sprinted across the street, like you were in a race." I smiled and tried to laugh. It was funny, from her point of view. It was funny to me that I ran. But the reason that I ran and climbed on top of a bench and became paranoid was not funny. Because rats are not funny. They are evil, disgusting, and terrifying. 

I saw this picture and wrote a back story for the character. This is called "Record Girl."

Every week this young woman, around my age I suppose, comes into the record 

store I work in. She buys a different record every time, whether it's jazz, blues, 

classic rock like The Clash or The Who, an album of pop cover songs, a soundtrack 

from a movie, always something different.

I sometimes imagine her playing the records at home, with an old record player. Maybe she got it at a garage sale years ago. She sits there and lets the music sink in. Sometimes, she plays the record again and again. She will sing and dance or just lie on the floor, with my fingers caressing the album sleeve. Sometimes I pretend I am there with her. She shares with me her favorite songs and which ones she would like to sing out loud.

I always tell myself I will talk to her the next time she comes into the record store. 

I'll ask her about what she is buying or what did she think of the previous record. 

Then we can share our musical tastes. I could recommend her something special. 

Maybe she will invite me over so we can listen to the record she will leave with. 

Maybe we will both like it and listen to it again and again, lying on the floor, side 

by side.

If you are interested in learning more or wish to create and share your work, hit

up hitrecord.org