February 2012
24 posts
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They All Think They're Sad
Claiming that only big words, more potent than three letters, could apply to their mood. Saying somehow giving it a name makes it tangible, like it’s not enough if it hasn’t got a title. They scream that this was never how they wanted it to be, as they just keep walking, following the same path that led them here. Somehow, deeper into the forest seems to hold more promise than memory....
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“I mean, you can teach a man to kiss, but you can’t teach him to give a...”
– Oh man, I am so wise.
Killing Charlemagne: excerpt from Tender is the... →
killingcharlemagne:
They were still in the happier stage of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered. They both seemed to have arrived there with an extraordinary innocence as…
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Bikini Shopping in February
This is Florida.
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Fleeting
They are feathers to me. I’m not a creature of the sky and a strong gust bears no power over me but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish the wind would pull my sides. Smuggle purpose beneath my bones, brittle bones that break and splinter, the kind you wouldn’t feed your dog. Feathers, to be made of feathers, I’d give up this sure density to be lifted by a subtle sway. Some days, my...
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A break from existing would be really nice right...
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Challenge Accepted.
“I would clamor to see a pure comedic work from you though. Your talent plus some funny? I’d pay.”
“One can never fault your imagery though. You have full control over a scene. You could start a scene as Tim Burton and end it as Judd Apatow, that’s how powerful the grasp is, and I can see that as a reader.” …Chris is being a flatterbug, and I’m ok...
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On Setting Goals
The contrast isn’t between the real, but takes from unreal. Things on pedestals, unachievable, unrealistic, not something that fingertips will ever graze, nor grasp. So the strain in my limbs and contorted knots in my lungs pull from below, but can’t seem to transgress gravity. I’ll blame it on the fetters that no one can see, they tug me down, shackle me still. There are no...
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Excerpt from Real Life
“I’ve got that sand running through my fingers feeling today.” I say, “Like the day is kind of just slipping by and I should be doing something because soon it will be dark then it will be tomorrow and then I’ll get a new handful of sand and let that blow away too.”
“I know what you mean,” he says, “but at least it’s happening on an...
Sometimes it just hits me.
The way we’ve become this beautiful mythological creature in complete defiance of Zeus. He should fear our power.
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Unleashed in Suburbia
I hold the early evening in the wrinkles of my fingertips. Press them out on paper, and see my day unfold in the sheet. The oils from the refrigerated leftover meat that grew gradually warmer in my hands, and the grease from the bicycle’s chain that I re-attached in the middle of the street in front of the headlights of my car. Sweat on my cardigan and wet dirt digging into the spaces...
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How I Ended Up in the Annie Hall Memorial State...
Me: I hate him now.
Ben: Maybe he doesn't check his email on weekends? I'm sure he'll eventually respond.
Me: HE'S A POOPHEAD.
Ben: Drank the child juice again this morning didn't you? I told Alice not to take that one out of Wonderland.
Me: NAH-UH! Did not! (might've drank the terrible twos variation O_o)
Ben: even worse. Someone really should be keeping an eye on you. Maybe a monitoring collar? Just a thought.
Me: I spray painted all the surveillance cameras because I wanted to pick my nose in peace.
Ben: wow. You're a whole different person with toddler juice.
Me: Snickers can fix that, right?
Ben: No candy for you.
Me: HEY! Meaniehead!
Ben: Look here, kiddo. Your toddler self is difficult enough to deal with without a sugar high. I mean, that kid juice has lasted all day long. Usually it wears off in an hour.
Me: I'm hooked up to an IV of it.
Ben: My god. This may not be reversible. friendshipover.gif?
Me: But but but...
Ben: Cut the tube! No more intravenous childhood. Grow up. Be an adult. Embrace life.
Me: You ruin my fun Ben.
Ben: Don't make me send you to the annie hall memorial state home for manic pixie dreamgirls. I'll do it. Won't even visit.
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That awkward moment when you're 20 years old, in a...
“Yeah, we sleep all the time!”
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Home Alone
The internet has taken the romanticism out of being alone in a dark bedroom with only yourself to answer to. Nearly compulsed to share the solitude. Announce to a horde of subpar acquaintances that we’re lonely, they should speak to us. Constant stimulus, instant gratification. The spiders spin their webs in corners where we seldom seem to look, no longer entranced by their intricate...
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The Sting of the Anon
Me: Ok, I sent those pieces for you to read.
Matt: Kk will read by midnight....Promiseeeeee.
Me: Oooh I'll come beat yer ass if you don't! And by that I mean I'll send you hurtful anons on tumblr!
Matt: Hahaha yessss
Me: Not yes, you don't want my anonymous wrath to befall you! >=O!
Matt: :)))))
Me: Sonofabitch.
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January 2012
46 posts
1 tag
1,200 words later and still not done...
I’M CURED! I’m taking a break for mac n cheese and time for my headache pills to start working their magic.
Professor’s gonna hate (or love) my wordy-ass now that I’ve unleashed the Kraken (of whimsical detail and in-depth research analysis!) Woohoo, I feel accomplished thus far.
It is a very good day.
Can’t wait for the 15 Views of Orlando Book Release party...
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Why I'm pretty bad at magazine writing...but not...
The simple truth is that I sacrifice content for literary parsimony. For some reason I fear being wordy and dragging on, so instead I keep it so succinct that my point is no longer clear, vaguely blurred by a lack of description and example.
I’m gonna start some Style Analysis rough draft writing…as soon as I recharge my boyfriend’s Georgia Southern hoodie with his cologne (for...
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We'll Never Be Apart Again
I once wondered when I stopped being a whole person. “I felt whole before,” I think to myself, but then he grabs my pale hands and there’s this doubt. Doubt that I ever enjoyed the crisp air of the wintertime making me shiver without the promise of his warm body against mine every night. A heartbeat had never spoken to me in a language that I understood. No amount of eye contact...
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Inside Voices
Different from every angle the glass strays from circular etched sideways, protrusions peculiar to the eye making movements where there were none because the head tilts with the push and pull of the heart in stationary stance, regardless. Beats pulse from man-made machines and they aren’t in sync with the flow of you, they don’t sink into your waters with consequences of effect and...
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When I Leave the Body Behind
Always knowing when to go quiet, I’ve never had to worry about witnesses. There’s the kid that gets away with everything because they just sort of fade into the background. Every move masked by the cavalier way it’s executed. That’s the role I’ve always played in this depressive war. Subtly shifting myself into the walls where I sink and become a part of the room that...
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Touch of Love
Lights fly by in the windows. The outside world shining into the dark backseat. I tilt my head to the side, a new perspective, a new place. Sideways signs are blurred by speed and crooked glances. The car presses further down the highway and you lay your head into my lap. I stroke your hair with my right hand and lay my other arm across your chest. You start to paw at my forearm then latch onto it...
Debating...
Whether to erg a 4k or a 2k…Hmm, decisions.
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Promising Start
The beginning begs to be coddled, make this right, turn left here, gloss over their eyes. Prepare them for battle. Send them in with spears that they actually want to use against the ink army of plot and conflict, thick and angsty, the knotted briefs of the chronically imaginative and hormone-laden. Let the character devour the mind of the writer. Detach from the body, writing, the only exorcism...
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Finished Reading "The Fault in our Stars" Last...
My eyeballs are still burning from all the tears.
>_<
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All I Really Want Can Be Put Into a Bulleted List:
A Psychology career that will keep me learning.
To write a book and have it published.
To own a nice house (nothing super fancy.)
Have copious amounts of novels.
Raise a few wolfdogs. And baby humans too, I guess. lol
To live happily ever after with my man and our pack ;]
Hehehe, cute little dreams, right?
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That Strange Place
There’s a place between conscious and unconscious. Very seldom do people travel there, because it’s not very inviting. The whole physical body falls asleep, but the mind, well the mind resists. The mind holds you back, reaches for consciousness, strives for control, but the body doesn’t respond. You lay there, trying to move, struggling to gain some fragment of power over the...
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Problem? Nah, Not Here.
I brought the bottle in the shower with me. She can’t swat at it. She can’t call me scum. She can’t accuse me of having a problem in here. Not in here. In here is where I’ll drown everything out. They’ll say, “He drowned in the shower,” and I’ll laugh at the irony. That’s ironic right? Who fucking knows. Another swig. The shower’s gonna...
The female body
is a backstabbing whore….Bitch.
I maintain that the best ideas come to me on night...
Got in my car with every intention of coming home and passing out, yet here I am developing four characters, a plot, and some seriously substantial conflict.
Here’s hoping for legitimate execution on this one. I fear it will haunt me if I don’t write it.
All I can say is that I have Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs to thank…In some weird almost completely indecipherable way.
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Stress beneath the surface.
The looming kind that never seems to fully show itself. The kind that steals from sleep but only whispers in a foreign tongue. The kind that makes threats but leaves you unsure of which are true and which aren’t. The kind that steals from enjoyment with stealth and leaves you with smaller portions than you thought you deserved. It never shows itself fully, always there, always hiding, always...