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The internet has long been accused of being a toxic, harmful place, full of conflict and anonymous trolls. It’s hard to deny that, in a general sense, but let us brag on ourselves a little bit. Because since our launch in September 2016, The Prompt has largely avoided that awful spirit, instead finding real personal connection through creative writing, good ideas, and good people. Honestly, it’s been quite a tonic to meet strangers on the internet that are so deeply earnest and good in their souls.
To extend that positive vibe into your lives a bit more, we’re starting a new content segment called This Prompts Joy, in which we will each share something positive or worthwhile that got us through the week. Each week, we will publish a miniprompt of the things that filled our cold, bleak, post-apocalyptic hearts with happiness, pride, gratitude, peace, interest, amusement, and so on.
The Prompt Mag: Proof that the internet isn’t completely terrible™
Jillian Conochan
“Great, I guess I’m going to Manitoba,” I pouted, looking out at the plain night sky.
“We’re gonna see it. Don’t worry,” my calm husband replied.
We took turns checking at the front door to see if the sky had changed at all, so we too could see the aurora borealis like so many others had witnessed. After about 90 minutes, a marvel of nature I had chalked up to maybe never getting to experience, was happening right outside my house.
We walked across the street to the park to minimize interference from streetlights and passing cars and let our eyes soak in the magenta that overtoned the night sky. Not to be outdone, Jupiter and Cassiopeia shone proudly from their positions in infinity.
Gaslight Anthem said it best, “To all the beautiful nights like this // Under this Central Jersey sky // Honey, we came to dance with the girls with the stars in their eyes—”
Josh Bard
I’m a sicko. I’m comfortable with it. It’s fine. Moreover, I’m a food sicko, and I’m comfortable with that too. It’s delicious. I’ve got all sorts of food takes that aren’t fit for your manners-laden dinner parties and can’t be given away for free here.
“Sure Josh,” you are thinking, skeptical of the scoville units on my food takes and authenticity in this takes-for-takes-sake culture. I’ll allow you that. But I’m also generous so I’ll give you a little amuse-bouche into this culinary depravity.
Here’s something that happened this week: One night I had dinner by myself so I bought some grocery store sushi. Because I like sushi, I know my body is strong, and I like flying close to the sun.
This was a combo pack box; I’m sure you’ve seen them and glossed right past. I don’t really blame you. But here’s where my joy comes in… some of the pieces were Philadelphia Roll. Cream cheese and salmon and avocado (because I can be fancy too, and oh yeah, I already own property, you Social Security-wasting Boomer). But the Philadelphia roll fucking delivers. Philadelphia rolls are the Kraft macaroni and cheese of the sushi world, and I mean that with the utmost love. All the taste buds get to party with the Philadelphia roll, unlike the pretentiously tasty shrimp tempura, or eel, or spicy tuna rolls. Yeah, I have a subscription to the Washington Post, but I also mess with USA Today.
Sarah Razner
Ever since watching October Sky as a malleable teen, I keep my eyes trained on the night sky. No matter how many times I look up, I always find myself in awe of those pinpricks of light, and the fact that they have glowed there for thousands if not millions of years.
So, when I stepped outside to take my dog out before bed on Thursday night, I looked up, and my jaw dropped. Colors of red, green, and pink looked like they had been painted across the night sky in beautiful strokes. Thanks to an electromagnetic storm, Wisconsin and other places in the Northern Hemisphere were treated to the Northern Lights.
I didn’t reach for my phone (although later I wished I had taken a picture). At that moment, I was too taken with the incredible show nature was putting on for us, and how much wonder there still is in the world, to think about anything else.
Kelaine Conochan
I try not to get sucked into Reels, TikTok, or YouTube video black holes not of my choosing, but occasionally, the algorithm finds me a banger. This week, I met this impish boy with an am-I-gonna-get-in-troublish grin on his face, making beats on a machine that looks like the cross-pollination of ColecoVision and Simon. And the song ABSOLUTELY SLAPS:
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Without knowing it or meaning to, little man taps into the mood of a nation, and there has never been a song more “of the moment” and timeless. “Everybody shut up in this country” is exactly what I’ve been thinking for YEARS, at this point. The word choice: simple but precise. The tone: decisive and dismissive. The impact: DEVASTATING. Instant Classic. Play this at my funeral. I’m begging you.
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