This is a festive occasion for me. I’ve been waiting to write a 60 seconds story for years. Just kidding, dear. That’s the only idea I had in mind when the word appeared. It’s a stupid word, anyway.
The festive atmosphere in the dining hall dropped immediately. Across from me, she deadpanned. A few others looked up in confusion, wondering why the easy conversation had so abruptly stopped. But I knew, and, judging by the look on her face, she did too. Her voice was quiet, a nearly soundless whisper directed across the table: “We need to get out of here.”
The soldiers of the Scouting Legion have no time to celebrate. Every victory is met with tired enthusiasm, tainted with the grief of the hundreds of men and women who have fallen.
Festivity time is in the air,
Blues, greens, purples, lots of flare.
Lots of laughter, excitement, joy, and celebrating,
With family, friends, loved ones, it’s so invigorating!
Festive times come not that frequently,
So seize their moments carpe diem’ly!
In memory of the great national hero that finally died after (literally) a century of selfless service, the street erupts with festive joy.
They are not ungrateful; only they thought whatever scraps of gratitude there are serve better when drown in drinks and torn to confetti. Front doors are trapped with tacky lights that blink wild and blind. Trees are strangled in banners that scream and praise. In the middle of the street, drums resound and deafen to the rhythm of people dancing and singing tunes of death. Traffic stops, the outside world barred from entering this sacred ritual.
Why weep for the dead while you can laugh instead?
The whole party was wonderful. There were streamers and lights and food everywhere. There was so music and dancing and shouting, I couldn’t contain myself from joining the party. I know it was frowned upon since I was supposed to act like a polite little lady, but hey who can resist the festive commotion? I ran up to the the house where the party was at. I recognized a few of those kids. I stayed there a couple hours before my parents came and snatched me right out. They dragged me to the car, but I ran out into the street. The last thing I remember from that event was a bright light…
Christmas and eggnog and bells, bells, bells. Green holly with red berries and little girls with velvet bows in their hair. Taffeta dresses that rustle when you walk. Crimolines scratching the skin. snow melting on the tips of tongues. singing and music and deep. Deep laughter. The feeling of soaring tall. the smell of butterscotch and brandy so hot it singes the tongue. Woolen coats a little damp hanging in the closet. The smell of pine, subtle and sweet somewhere in the background. A tree too big for the living room. Laughter and heas scratching remembering where the tree stand hides. Attic? basement? On the kitchen table, cookies hot out of the oven waiting for sprinkles. A mother in a 1950s apron. Red lipstick and holly earrings worn only once a year. A white bunny muff keeping my hands warm. Playing carols on an old upright piano. The music sitting on the piano stand stuffed mushrooms passed around the room. The sweetness of being with people you love. Times gone by and times to come.
a festive evening, covered in snow, with the music low, ohhh, how the wind did blow. And it would show, not just in the snow, but the glow, of those around who grow, from that festive evening.
There was a festive mood in the office when they heard about Ronald’s Pulitzer win, but he was now hiding in the closet at his apartment, wondering how he was going to get out of the mess he had created. It had started as a joke, but now people would really want to meet the alien queen!
It was a festive occasion. Well, the bachelors saw it as such. They had all the naughty party favors and the luscious strippers. They had both agreed, no touching. It was damned hard with the hot sweaty bodies gyrating in front of their face. Well, at least if things got too bad they could go to the bathroom for a quickie. The joy of sending their last night together before becoming Husband and Husband.
festival fall. i never got into the festivities of fall. halloween. thanksgiving. it just feels meaningless to mean. halloween is such a giant waste of time and money. it’s disgusting that people actually buy costumes for their pets. money spent on things instead of experiences. we can have the same experiences without the things.
Festive didn’t even begin to cover it, tacky was a better word. The yard was covered with plastic snowmen, and Santas, and reindeer, and elves; and they eye could not take it all in. The retina spasmed and twitched, trying to deny the holiday horror that lay before it.
let’s manifest and get festive and shake them gaudy heavens like we meant it. Let’s get mean and remain unclean and fall from the platform where we can be unseen.
My hot chocolate warmed my hands and the lights carefully
draped around the tree warmed my heart. Outside it was snowing,
large, fluffly flakes, but I felt as warm as could be; physically,
emotionally, and in soul. I smiled to myself and to my mother. This
was what Christmas really meant. I drew the blanket closer around
me, cuddling closer to the woman who had so expertly raised me and
loved me. I knew that in that moment, nothing could be more
perfect. Silently thanking the universe, I took the last sip of my
hot chocolate and let myself drift off to sleep.
The halls were filled with the festive laughter of the ignorant. Outside, the stars loomed cold and hard above an empty wasteland; but within the palace, there was joy and happiness. Is this what it means to be festive? To enjoy life in utter obliviousness of the world around you?
Festive is lights across a backyard patio. A mariachi band warming up with trumpet blasts two yards away. Following the sound of drums. Puppets held high on sticks that lead us to a bonfire.
The lights hung all over our home made it just that much warmer. It was my favorite time of the year, Christmas. I loved this time because I always made cookies and had made gifts for everyone. It always made me happy.
Who knew cemeteries could feel festive? Today I sat in one. Took photos in one. And admired the flowers along with the headstones. Getting excited thinking about how I can help celebrate the lives of others.
Feeling festive? Drink, eat and be merry. Who knows what’ll happen to you tomorrow. Don’t fester over feeling festive or not. Festival time can be anytime you like.
Snow came down in heavy chunks, coating the trees and making Christmas lights seem all that more spectacular. It was exactly 11 pm on Christmas Eve and not many kids were asleep too antsy for the presents that would come in the morning.
“These are the Halloween decorations?” asked my manager, wrinkling her nose as she folded her arms across her green polo.
“Er, yeah,” I replied, gesturing at the orange and black streamers accompanied by paper Jack-o-Lanterns and stringy spider webs. “It’s all I found in the stock room.”
“Yeah, they’re not as festive as I hoped,” my manager replied. She exhaled. “Yep, we need an upgrade. Scott! Gregory! We’ve got an emergency situation!”
Festive. The word to dress up the intention. The intention? Simply dressed by the festivity and we all sit around dressed up in god knows what asking how did we get here; and why!?
I mean was I dragged by sex, money, love or the promise of all three? It wasn’t my steam. Not my meaning or wants… and yet I am here.
There was this multi-colored suit moving around so quickly I couldn’t decide whether I should run fast, or flat out laugh. But my then-boyfriend took a different point of view. He went and grabbed the guy. And suddenly, the feeling that a great party was underway ended. Everyone was silent.
The trees were festive, all decked out for the holiday season. Snow was falling gently, silently, on the ground, blanketing the world in white. I sat at my perch by the window, a blanket wrapped around me to keep the cold out. A steaming mug of hot chocolate was clutched in my hands.
The holidays are coming. This means that the Santa Claus costumes in the closet may need to be washed, or cleaned up. I can’t imagine how dusty it is where they’ve been living over the past several months.
Maybe it’s time for the men to start growing hearty white beards.
It’s a party, candles are burning ,everyone is dressed beautifully and we all shine like stars. It is an evening to experience the people you love, and enjoy seeing them as happy as you are, and to enjoy life without anxiety for a little while. The pleasure of life in a community.
I’m usually not a festive person. I tend to behave in a very practical way. But then you came along and I suddenly finding myself being the life of Christmas. You made me realize it’s okay to let go, to enjoy traditions.
The mood was festive when they walked into the party. Too bad “he” had to come over and ruin everything by falling all over everyone because he was so drunk he couldn’t stand up.
She arived at the most colorful, festive park in the world! Everyone gathered, preparing for the activities of the weekend. BBQ grills, cakes, rides, balloons. All was coming together just as the sun was setting.
music, green grass, bare feet, laughter and freed spirit
Like a folk festival that allows all trouble to disappear. where you leave you bag in the shade and run into the sun to dance the day away.
Sometimes I like to think about the holidays…everybody’s very festive at Christmas and thanksgiving and all that right? But what about Cinco de Mayo?! It’s always very festive to make some homemade salsa and wear sombreros…even though I’m not even a little bit Mexican. All holidays can be festive! Groundhog day?! Don’t get me started! Everybody can go outside their house for just a few minutes and actually talk to their neighbors…but of course, if they don’t see their shadow, they’ll all just go right back inside and sit back down on the couch like the obese, anti-social, Honey Boo Boo lovin’ Americans they are. But enough of groundhog day. What about Labor Day? It makes no sense to have the day off of school and work if it’s called “Labor” Day. We should either work even longer than a usual day, or it should be called “Non-Labor Day”. But it’s so fun to go to the lake or grill out with friends, so I’d rather not overthink it.
How I loathe this festive period. As always I put a smile on my face, trying to look happy, trying to look normal, trying to enjoy it. Trying to ignore their forceful happy faces, trying to ignore their fake smiles.
Trying to ignore the fact we’re all just pretending to be happy.
“Is something bothering you, my dear?”
“Hmm?” she asked, raising her chin a few inches off her palm. “What did you say, Magnus?”
He smiled. “You don’t seem in a festive mood,”
“Oh,” she said, straightening in her seat. “My apologies. My mind…is elsewhere, it seems,”
“Your mind, my lady,” he began. “Or your heart?”
Festive, the place where drugs are taken, love is made and lost and alchohol is usually responsible for both of those things. You’ll find beauty in the dilated pupils of the people there and in the grass that their feet stomp. A place where dreams are lived and lives made, a long awaited way to release, live, love, laugh and be carefree. There’s no make up, just face paint, no problems, only soul connection on a deeper level than you’ll find on any suburban street. If you get festive, you get real. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry and you won’t walk out the same. When change is the one constant in life know that this is a change for the better, a festival will make you.
This is a festive occasion for me. I’ve been waiting to write a 60 seconds story for years. Just kidding, dear. That’s the only idea I had in mind when the word appeared. It’s a stupid word, anyway.
The festive atmosphere in the dining hall dropped immediately. Across from me, she deadpanned. A few others looked up in confusion, wondering why the easy conversation had so abruptly stopped. But I knew, and, judging by the look on her face, she did too. Her voice was quiet, a nearly soundless whisper directed across the table: “We need to get out of here.”
All of the lights in the world will never compare to the ones I saw in your eyes
The soldiers of the Scouting Legion have no time to celebrate. Every victory is met with tired enthusiasm, tainted with the grief of the hundreds of men and women who have fallen.
Festivity time is in the air,
Blues, greens, purples, lots of flare.
Lots of laughter, excitement, joy, and celebrating,
With family, friends, loved ones, it’s so invigorating!
Festive times come not that frequently,
So seize their moments carpe diem’ly!
In memory of the great national hero that finally died after (literally) a century of selfless service, the street erupts with festive joy.
They are not ungrateful; only they thought whatever scraps of gratitude there are serve better when drown in drinks and torn to confetti. Front doors are trapped with tacky lights that blink wild and blind. Trees are strangled in banners that scream and praise. In the middle of the street, drums resound and deafen to the rhythm of people dancing and singing tunes of death. Traffic stops, the outside world barred from entering this sacred ritual.
Why weep for the dead while you can laugh instead?
The whole party was wonderful. There were streamers and lights and food everywhere. There was so music and dancing and shouting, I couldn’t contain myself from joining the party. I know it was frowned upon since I was supposed to act like a polite little lady, but hey who can resist the festive commotion? I ran up to the the house where the party was at. I recognized a few of those kids. I stayed there a couple hours before my parents came and snatched me right out. They dragged me to the car, but I ran out into the street. The last thing I remember from that event was a bright light…
Christmas and eggnog and bells, bells, bells. Green holly with red berries and little girls with velvet bows in their hair. Taffeta dresses that rustle when you walk. Crimolines scratching the skin. snow melting on the tips of tongues. singing and music and deep. Deep laughter. The feeling of soaring tall. the smell of butterscotch and brandy so hot it singes the tongue. Woolen coats a little damp hanging in the closet. The smell of pine, subtle and sweet somewhere in the background. A tree too big for the living room. Laughter and heas scratching remembering where the tree stand hides. Attic? basement? On the kitchen table, cookies hot out of the oven waiting for sprinkles. A mother in a 1950s apron. Red lipstick and holly earrings worn only once a year. A white bunny muff keeping my hands warm. Playing carols on an old upright piano. The music sitting on the piano stand stuffed mushrooms passed around the room. The sweetness of being with people you love. Times gone by and times to come.
happy, carefree, joyful and full of boundless energy. Glad to meet you and I want to be with you to celebrate the time, occasion and our life.
a festive evening, covered in snow, with the music low, ohhh, how the wind did blow. And it would show, not just in the snow, but the glow, of those around who grow, from that festive evening.
There was a festive mood in the office when they heard about Ronald’s Pulitzer win, but he was now hiding in the closet at his apartment, wondering how he was going to get out of the mess he had created. It had started as a joke, but now people would really want to meet the alien queen!
It was a festive occasion. Well, the bachelors saw it as such. They had all the naughty party favors and the luscious strippers. They had both agreed, no touching. It was damned hard with the hot sweaty bodies gyrating in front of their face. Well, at least if things got too bad they could go to the bathroom for a quickie. The joy of sending their last night together before becoming Husband and Husband.
festival fall. i never got into the festivities of fall. halloween. thanksgiving. it just feels meaningless to mean. halloween is such a giant waste of time and money. it’s disgusting that people actually buy costumes for their pets. money spent on things instead of experiences. we can have the same experiences without the things.
Festive didn’t even begin to cover it, tacky was a better word. The yard was covered with plastic snowmen, and Santas, and reindeer, and elves; and they eye could not take it all in. The retina spasmed and twitched, trying to deny the holiday horror that lay before it.
let’s manifest and get festive and shake them gaudy heavens like we meant it. Let’s get mean and remain unclean and fall from the platform where we can be unseen.
My hot chocolate warmed my hands and the lights carefully
draped around the tree warmed my heart. Outside it was snowing,
large, fluffly flakes, but I felt as warm as could be; physically,
emotionally, and in soul. I smiled to myself and to my mother. This
was what Christmas really meant. I drew the blanket closer around
me, cuddling closer to the woman who had so expertly raised me and
loved me. I knew that in that moment, nothing could be more
perfect. Silently thanking the universe, I took the last sip of my
hot chocolate and let myself drift off to sleep.
The party was festive.
The halls were filled with the festive laughter of the ignorant. Outside, the stars loomed cold and hard above an empty wasteland; but within the palace, there was joy and happiness. Is this what it means to be festive? To enjoy life in utter obliviousness of the world around you?
Festive is lights across a backyard patio. A mariachi band warming up with trumpet blasts two yards away. Following the sound of drums. Puppets held high on sticks that lead us to a bonfire.
The lights hung all over our home made it just that much warmer. It was my favorite time of the year, Christmas. I loved this time because I always made cookies and had made gifts for everyone. It always made me happy.
Who knew cemeteries could feel festive? Today I sat in one. Took photos in one. And admired the flowers along with the headstones. Getting excited thinking about how I can help celebrate the lives of others.
Feeling festive? Drink, eat and be merry. Who knows what’ll happen to you tomorrow. Don’t fester over feeling festive or not. Festival time can be anytime you like.
Snow came down in heavy chunks, coating the trees and making Christmas lights seem all that more spectacular. It was exactly 11 pm on Christmas Eve and not many kids were asleep too antsy for the presents that would come in the morning.
“These are the Halloween decorations?” asked my manager, wrinkling her nose as she folded her arms across her green polo.
“Er, yeah,” I replied, gesturing at the orange and black streamers accompanied by paper Jack-o-Lanterns and stringy spider webs. “It’s all I found in the stock room.”
“Yeah, they’re not as festive as I hoped,” my manager replied. She exhaled. “Yep, we need an upgrade. Scott! Gregory! We’ve got an emergency situation!”
Festive. The word to dress up the intention. The intention? Simply dressed by the festivity and we all sit around dressed up in god knows what asking how did we get here; and why!?
I mean was I dragged by sex, money, love or the promise of all three? It wasn’t my steam. Not my meaning or wants… and yet I am here.
There was this multi-colored suit moving around so quickly I couldn’t decide whether I should run fast, or flat out laugh. But my then-boyfriend took a different point of view. He went and grabbed the guy. And suddenly, the feeling that a great party was underway ended. Everyone was silent.
The trees were festive, all decked out for the holiday season. Snow was falling gently, silently, on the ground, blanketing the world in white. I sat at my perch by the window, a blanket wrapped around me to keep the cold out. A steaming mug of hot chocolate was clutched in my hands.
crisp colors and flare in the air
percussion loosens our technological limp
love and dance is your chance
The holidays are coming. This means that the Santa Claus costumes in the closet may need to be washed, or cleaned up. I can’t imagine how dusty it is where they’ve been living over the past several months.
Maybe it’s time for the men to start growing hearty white beards.
It’s a party, candles are burning ,everyone is dressed beautifully and we all shine like stars. It is an evening to experience the people you love, and enjoy seeing them as happy as you are, and to enjoy life without anxiety for a little while. The pleasure of life in a community.
The festive halls have long since faded away
The fancy shirts with collars do not see the light of day
The world is drab and the sky is gray
I’m usually not a festive person. I tend to behave in a very practical way. But then you came along and I suddenly finding myself being the life of Christmas. You made me realize it’s okay to let go, to enjoy traditions.
The mood was festive when they walked into the party. Too bad “he” had to come over and ruin everything by falling all over everyone because he was so drunk he couldn’t stand up.
Festive times
celebrate away the time away
laugh Fucking laughing is good
festive times
She arived at the most colorful, festive park in the world! Everyone gathered, preparing for the activities of the weekend. BBQ grills, cakes, rides, balloons. All was coming together just as the sun was setting.
music, green grass, bare feet, laughter and freed spirit
Like a folk festival that allows all trouble to disappear. where you leave you bag in the shade and run into the sun to dance the day away.
Sometimes I like to think about the holidays…everybody’s very festive at Christmas and thanksgiving and all that right? But what about Cinco de Mayo?! It’s always very festive to make some homemade salsa and wear sombreros…even though I’m not even a little bit Mexican. All holidays can be festive! Groundhog day?! Don’t get me started! Everybody can go outside their house for just a few minutes and actually talk to their neighbors…but of course, if they don’t see their shadow, they’ll all just go right back inside and sit back down on the couch like the obese, anti-social, Honey Boo Boo lovin’ Americans they are. But enough of groundhog day. What about Labor Day? It makes no sense to have the day off of school and work if it’s called “Labor” Day. We should either work even longer than a usual day, or it should be called “Non-Labor Day”. But it’s so fun to go to the lake or grill out with friends, so I’d rather not overthink it.
How I loathe this festive period. As always I put a smile on my face, trying to look happy, trying to look normal, trying to enjoy it. Trying to ignore their forceful happy faces, trying to ignore their fake smiles.
Trying to ignore the fact we’re all just pretending to be happy.
“Is something bothering you, my dear?”
“Hmm?” she asked, raising her chin a few inches off her palm. “What did you say, Magnus?”
He smiled. “You don’t seem in a festive mood,”
“Oh,” she said, straightening in her seat. “My apologies. My mind…is elsewhere, it seems,”
“Your mind, my lady,” he began. “Or your heart?”
Festive, the place where drugs are taken, love is made and lost and alchohol is usually responsible for both of those things. You’ll find beauty in the dilated pupils of the people there and in the grass that their feet stomp. A place where dreams are lived and lives made, a long awaited way to release, live, love, laugh and be carefree. There’s no make up, just face paint, no problems, only soul connection on a deeper level than you’ll find on any suburban street. If you get festive, you get real. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry and you won’t walk out the same. When change is the one constant in life know that this is a change for the better, a festival will make you.