Zelda's Inferno exercise: we passed a paper around and wrote down wacky possible street and place names, the used a few as a jumping-off point for a writing exercise:
palmer's mill, satanwood lane, elephant parade blvd, plumcrest place, bear ridge rd, puppydog lane, flaming meadow ave, lincoln ave, cloudleap, ailsa ave, gumdrop lake, quail run ave, state st, psycho street, shakedown st, maple st, 3865th st, pi-th st, insulator drive, barley blvd, vegetarian lane, roundtree, cruelty free lane, ADHD circle, hell way
Somewhere between Flaming Meadow Place and 3,865th Street, a man waits in the shadows at the mouth of an alley, waiting for something. He's not sure what, but he'll know it when he sees it. It's raining lightly but it's a warm day so he doesn't mind, the damp seeping through his clothes to his skin cools what his body has absorbed during the week-long heat wave. He watches the water swirl around his feet, it's been raining long and hard enough now that the water runs clean, all the dirt and oil and little bits of trash have already been carried off downstream, into the sewer hole. By the tip of his right boot, there's a joint in the concrete surface of the alley. As the stream of water hits this,sometimes a little vortex, a little whirlpool, forms for a while, then dissipates. Then it forms again. He wonders if it's correct to call it the same one when it reforms. He thinks about how that question applies to life and death, to the idea of re-incarnation, stuff like that. He thinks about stuff like that a lot, which is how he came to be waiting here, in this alley, for something, he doesn't know what.