Prompt Images
The 3rd photo in your camera roll is your journal entry; go! Read on for inspiration and tweet us yours.
Dear Diary,
Week 2 of my study-abroad. I’m having fun, but I’m not sure if I’m making memories I will start every sentence with for the next 8-10 years of my life. Was I wrong to choose an American college? Would I be better off in Tokyo?
Fondly,
a European starling in New Jersey
Dear Diary,
Shopping on the internet is hard. I consulted a friend for help finding a discount code. The email came in, bold and unread, enticing opportunity. My dreams dissolved after one click. Fifty off sounded so great before I saw the fine print. An $800 minimum? But the sofa I want costs $750. Free shipping? Only on orders of $1,000 or more. Maybe I should buy that $300 lamp that I don’t need. What do you think? You don’t need to answer. It’s just nice to know you’re listening to me. I’ll let you know what I decide in tomorrow’s entry!
Kisses,
Internet shopping sleuth
Dear Diary,
Today we visited a quaint village called Godric’s Hollow. Oh Diary, how adorable it was! It looked like something right out of “The Tudors” with its little cottages. I heard something horrible happened to a family there, but I don’t know how any place so cute could have anything like that happen. The only weird thing was that all day, this old lady kept shuffling behind me. She sounded like she was hissing at me, but who knows what was really going on. Every place has a weird one! I think there they called them muggles.
Anywho, tomorrow we are off to London! We’re coming into King’s Cross Station which I’ve heard is lovely.
‘Til tomorrow Diary,
An American tourist in England.
Diary, grant me the strength to let go of the pizza I have earned, the courage to eat the spinach that’s been languishing in the crisper for over a week, and the lack of wisdom to not know the difference.
Love,
Zach
Dear Diary, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I know I was supposed to write more, and I said I would. I guess that’s what happens when you think you know what you’re going to do in the future: you might end up being very wrong. Could I have known that things would turn out this way, so long ago? Looking back, of course not.
But is it wrong that they turned out this way instead?
I don’t know.
Dear Diary,
It’s alright to tell me what you think about me
I won’t try to argue or hold it against you
I know that you’re leaving, you must have your reasons
The season is calling, your pictures are falling down
The steps that I retrace, the sad look on your face
The timing and structure did you hear he fucked her?
A day late a buck short I’m writing the report
On losing and failing when I move I’m flailing now
And it’s happened once again
I’ll turn to a friend
Someone that understands
Sees through the master plan
But everybody’s gone
And I’ve been here for too long
To face this on my own, well I guess…
Dear Diary,
When you embark on a puppet mission, there’s just no way of knowing in advance where it’s going to take you. I thought I was only going to be gone for 2 weeks. Here we are, a month and some change later, and I am only just now returning home to you. Since I’ve been gone, I took my heart, mixed it with about 70 yards of fabric, and stitched it into five different birds. I migrated with the Crane. Soared with the battle scarred Hawk. Remembered my first love with the Golondrina. Cast a spell for protection with the Woodpecker. Found the spirit of 2019 Los Angeles in the Hummingbird. Sealed it all with a kiss and a 2,000 person strong sing-a-long as we dedicated The Music Center’s Plaza to the people.
Taking flight to explore the skies wasn’t enough. The Pacific called, I answered, and it was time to bring the spirit of a whale into the here and now. Have you ever gone out to find a whale spirit, Diary? It takes a team. And that picture, Diary, is the team that found this strong, steady, circus-disco-spacecraft of a whale and it’s little dolphin buddy and took it to out to coast down the streets of Santa Monica for a one-day-only puppet parade spectacular.
Once you’ve cruised down Main Street in Santa Monica with a fifty foot whale that you wove together with your own hands, a troupe of dancing women, and a band, you are ruined for any other mode of transportation.
But you don’t have to take my word for it. Click HERE, you multimedia enabled diary of the future. Wait for the music to start and you, too, can ride the rhythms of the whale.
Love,
Me