NEEDY.

Needy! That's what I'd call these ghosts.
Each and every last one of them, needy little fuckers. Why're they all here, asking me to finish their failed tasks and lives. Isn't there someone else they could go to with their problems?
I mean, I've got the time since I got kicked to the curb by my last job, and then when my girlfriend left me, but seriously, their demands are getting ridiculous.
Oh, go dig up this time capsule and bring it to my brother.
Tell her I love her for me, just one last time. Tell her I'm sorry.
They come to me, all bloody and old and withered, and ask me to help them out. I need some fuckin' Ghostbusters shit on this. I should get an exorcist. I even asked my landlord if this was a common problem. He threatened to evict me, he told me he doesn't rent out to crazies. I almost brought up Ms. Kazenski upstairs. Lady has, like, 12 cats, and I hear her talking to them all through the night. I don't think she sleeps. I wonder if she has her own ghosts.
One of the ghosts asked me to avenge his death. I said no, but he persisted, would follow me into bed, into the shower, I finally snapped one night, killed the man who killed him.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that ghost when it shows up?

Better? Besides the fact that it took me a week to write, and it's significantly shorter. Ehn, I'll get better at this.
The word was provided by my lovely sister, Ms. Sheila Molnar.

FORTITUDE.

"Fortitude, darling. It's what I have and you don't. And with that," Dan said, extracting the wiimote from the box, "I will destroy you!"
Boxes filled the room. They had just moved, but due to an argument on the car ride over, the wii and TV were all set up, raring to go. Dan was standing and Claire sat on the part of the couch not covered in boxes or the lethargic dog. Janet unpacked loudly in the kitchen, words like "useless" and "nerds" somehow drifted in above the clatter of cutlery slamming into their proper places. Josh wandered the apartment in a daze, apparently confused about where his bedroom was, and then further confused about why it was the only one without a window.
"What the hell does fortitude even mean? And how does that help you with Mario Kart?" Claire asked, scratching the dog behind the ear.
"Fortitude is, like, toughness, or something," Dan said, selecting a bike for Bowser to ride on.
Josh wandered in, enthralled by something on his phone. He glanced up at the TV. "Dude, you're playing Bowser? Homeboy sucks in this game."
"Fuck you!"
"Yeah, don't mess, he has 'fortitude'," said Claire, picking out the scooter for Yoshi.
"The scooter? Y'all suck at this game," said Josh. "And what the hell does fortitude mean, anyway?"
"He's tough!" Dan yelled, then swore as the race started and Bowser spun out. "God damn it, I've lost now."
"The race just started, don't be so FUCK," she yelled as a red shell smashed into Yoshi.
Janet stalked into the make-shift living room, the arena for this epic battle, which in reality was Dan's room. They had to turn the living room into Claire's so they could all live there.
"Who broke my French Press?" she asked, livid. "Hey, nerds! Which one of you idiots broke my French Press? These are expensive, kinda."
But her anger could not distract the gamers, the race was heating up, and in this game, at any second everything could change. She stopped to watch the match. The technicolour race was mesmerizing. The upbeat music was interspersed with the swearing and yelling of the racers.
"Fuck! I lost," said Claire, putting down the controller.
"What did I tell you," said Dan, trying to coax a high-five from Janet, who had turned back to the kitchen to unpack. "Fortitude!"
"Whatever, asshole, you gonna help unpack, or will you revel in your victory a bit more?" asked Claire, trying to get up, but failing, as the dog had laid his head on her lap, and it would be heartless to expect such a dog to move.
"Unpack? But we still have three more races!"
"Janet will kill us," said Claire, as she picked the controller back up.
"So? She's always saying that."
Josh left the living room. As he passed the kitchen, Janet called out to him.
"Are they playing again?" Josh nodded. "Useless nerds."
He walked on to his room, ignoring Janet's almost-panicked call of, "Wait, aren't you going to help?"
He shut the door, turned on the light, and gazed upon his four bare walls, his mattress, his boxes, and his bare bulb dangling from the ceiling.



Okay, that didn't turn out so good. Fortitude is hard, people. But considering it's a first try, I'd say it turned out good, maybe?

BEES!

I got stung by a bee today. BEES HURT, PEOPLE. I haven't been stung by a bee for, like, a year, so I didn't really know what to do. The only ointment we had was burn ointment, and then I put some ice on it, so I think I'm covered in case it was one of those evil FIRE BEES. But I don't think it was. Those only come out on the coldest nights. They are nightmares.

Anyway, I'm going to try something here. And usually when I do that, nothing of the sort happens, but today I have faith in my own self to see this through, because I think it'd be a good exercise.
I, Lee Joseph Molnar, first (as far as I know) of my name, has already asked facebook to give me a word.
And this word will be the first word in a little story, vignette, dialogue, scene, or whatever else I want to write.
I shall do this weekly, on every Tuesday I suppose.
I've already gotten some, so I will be using the first.
The word is "fortitude", provided by one Kaia Kater.
The incredibly short story will show up later tonight, if I remember.
Kisses!

What Matters To Me, Moon? Prologue & Epilogue

Here it is. The end of a long short-story. Ignore the left side of that first page there and read "What Matters To Me, Moon?" chapters 1, 2, 3, 4-1 & 4-2. RIGHT! I should mention that this story was previously called "The Relief of Rock At The Side Of The Road" because I needed to call it something and when I first started this story I was on a bus in Ottawa that was traveling by a rock-cliff between Holland Cross and Lebreton Flats. I liked the rhythm and assonance of the phrase, but it ended up having nothing to do with the story.
Anyhow, if you click on the tag "Daymoon" at the bottom there, you should be able to find all of my stories.
Dear readers, I swear to you, that one day and other days after that, I will upload every single story or poem or anything that I write and like. This public diary will live on and love lots. Nmaste, babes, amen.

What Matters To Me, Moon? ch.4 pt.2

Howdy. I know that it has been a long time since I have last posted. Regardless the story is finished. I am proud of it. It has actually been finished since April or May of 2011. I, however, have not been lazy. It pains me so much that I have ten million responsibilities, when all I want is to be a kid and have fun with my years of know-how, creative urges and friends. FRIENDS! DAMN, friends are one of the most important things to have in your life at aLL times.
Dear Hope and Derring Do, I miss my great friends greatly and my super friends superlee -der, I mean, supremely. I cannot know how long it will be before an other post from alter ego Daymoon, but make sure to check out the PROLOGUE/EPILOGUE when you are finished with this writy-dighty WHO-HAW!