I got nothing. Not even two thought-nickles to rub together.
Title: The Power of Touch
Prompt: “Textures are everywhere: The rough edges of a stone wall. The smooth innocence of a baby’s cheek. The sense of touch brings back memories for us. What texture is particularly evocative to you?”
And thanks to Laura Thompson, I guess.
So, I’m gonna be a rascally little scamp and totally avoid the question.
I’m going to come right out, in some semblance of answering the question anyway, and say that I think that marble, the stone kind, has a very pleasing texture to me. But never in the way that I think it will. To try to explain and sound less insane as a result, whenever I see a marble statue or floor, it always looks and feels, in my mind, smoother than it actually is. I expect it to be the apex of smoothness and the slickest thing since the Fonz. Hey, that’s not registered as a typo- that’s pop culture for you (D’oh, on the other hand, is still seen as a typo).
In other words, what I think I’m going to feel is not what it really feels like. Isn’t that a little bit odd? I mean, to have your brain just manufacture a better feeling of a stone you maybe see once every couple of days and in very small quantities compared to everything else you could possibly touch? I can’t imagine it’s a very survival/evolutionary-based trait.
Oh, and here’s a bizarre side-note: I sometimes have the urge to bite into really smooth surfaces, such as marble and smooth wood. Seriously, it’s true! As a kid I used to try to sink my teeth into the smoothest parts of my bedpost. The teeth marks are still there. I’m looking at them right now! I was a strange kid but no less strange as
an adult a physically-larger child.
The feeling extends to wanting to sink my nails or various sharp objects into such surfaces.
I mean, isn’t that just kinda freaking weird? Like, to really put it to paper like this makes it sound even more out of its mind. Not like I mind, this since this stuff really turns heads. Quick, now that everyone’s looking at how much of a freak you are, insert some kind of deep philosophical and humanitarian message into the post!
Later, child, later.
For now, I’m tired and frayed at the edges like paper passed through a tumble drier. I think most people call this phenomenon, ‘Thursday.’ I call it a rallying cry, waking me up to realize that I don’t belong in this nine-to-five, two-day-weekend, world. It’s burdensome enough just living with this council of idiot geniuses (or is it genius idiots?) stuck inside of my head, so all of their stupidly brilliant (or brilliantly stupid) words reflect off the unflinching walls and, with each echo, they gain momentum like a hail of reaping arrows falling down upon the heads of marching knights at Agincourt.
<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/the-power-of-touch/">The Power of Touch</a>
I wasn’t kidding before, I don’t have anything to say here for once.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!