Friday, December 17, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
I Am A Wild Party
Ladies and gentlemen, I am done for the semester! Boo Ya!
Time to slide into a hedonistic debauchery of video games and, ah, writing. Yes. I am just that exciting.
Time to slide into a hedonistic debauchery of video games and, ah, writing. Yes. I am just that exciting.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Naming of characters is a difficult matter, It isn't just one of your holiday games
I have a character name (ok a couple actually, on a couple of different stories) giving me grief. The name in question has changed.... oh let's see, 20 times now? More? The problem, and this sounds completely crazy I know, is that, because I can't get the name right, the character keeps changing on me. Usually with the name.
Sometimes, I can't even start something until I have the name right. It's like the name literally defines the character and everything that springs from them. Every quality, phobia and dislike. If I can start without it (and I have on several occasions) I have to watch constantly that the character isn't inconsistent because... because they don't have a fucking name?! Seriously? *Sigh* Apparently so.
This particularly character started out based on several things, one of which was that the name had to be one syllable. Or something that could (and would) be shortened down to that. Weird eh? I have gone through literally every one syllable, female name I could find. None of which have fit "just so." I thought I had it for a while there. The character spent the last 2 years with the same name. But it didn't feel entirely right. One small experiment on readers later and we're back to changing it up again.
I have a fallen angel I can't get a proper handle on because he lacks a name (of the only ones that seem to fit, I can't use because they are entirely too pre-loaded with meanings I don't wish to ascribe to him). I have a heroine who becomes someone else entirely sometimes because she lacks the correct name. I have an entire story with NAME1 through to... damn, I think we're on NAME5 or NAME7 now, stalled out. *shakes head*
If I waited for the right names, I'm pretty sure nothing would ever get started.
Sometimes, the name just comes. Blam! There it is! Puff of smoke, thank you, dude's jacked up and good to go. And then there's those other times...
Sometimes, I can't even start something until I have the name right. It's like the name literally defines the character and everything that springs from them. Every quality, phobia and dislike. If I can start without it (and I have on several occasions) I have to watch constantly that the character isn't inconsistent because... because they don't have a fucking name?! Seriously? *Sigh* Apparently so.
This particularly character started out based on several things, one of which was that the name had to be one syllable. Or something that could (and would) be shortened down to that. Weird eh? I have gone through literally every one syllable, female name I could find. None of which have fit "just so." I thought I had it for a while there. The character spent the last 2 years with the same name. But it didn't feel entirely right. One small experiment on readers later and we're back to changing it up again.
I have a fallen angel I can't get a proper handle on because he lacks a name (of the only ones that seem to fit, I can't use because they are entirely too pre-loaded with meanings I don't wish to ascribe to him). I have a heroine who becomes someone else entirely sometimes because she lacks the correct name. I have an entire story with NAME1 through to... damn, I think we're on NAME5 or NAME7 now, stalled out. *shakes head*
If I waited for the right names, I'm pretty sure nothing would ever get started.
Sometimes, the name just comes. Blam! There it is! Puff of smoke, thank you, dude's jacked up and good to go. And then there's those other times...
An Inopportune Mouthful
The exercise was to take a piece of dialogue and work it into a story. Somehow, I ended up making it the entire story. Italics indicates the piece of dialogue.
It needs to be further revised, now that I've gotten it back, but here's a wee bit of it:
The fight started because Fat Dan was still eating biscuits and refused to leave the tavern. In all honesty, it wasn't his fault. Fights had a way of happening at the Slug and Manticore and earlier that day he'd had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. For that, he'd been cursed by a crotchety wizard.
The wizard in question, one, Marvo the magnificent, had just been dumped by the sword mistress, love-of-his-life. She'd told him he wasn't tough enough. Never mind that Marvo could nail a pumpkin with a fireball at 40 paces. His sword skills were positively laughable and that was a deal breaker for her.
"Four years Marvo. Four years I've been giving you sword lessons and you haven't learned shit." She'd said, storming off and muttering something about how he never took her seriously.
Like most bipeds, Marvo believed in passing it on. So he did.
It needs to be further revised, now that I've gotten it back, but here's a wee bit of it:
The fight started because Fat Dan was still eating biscuits and refused to leave the tavern. In all honesty, it wasn't his fault. Fights had a way of happening at the Slug and Manticore and earlier that day he'd had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. For that, he'd been cursed by a crotchety wizard.
The wizard in question, one, Marvo the magnificent, had just been dumped by the sword mistress, love-of-his-life. She'd told him he wasn't tough enough. Never mind that Marvo could nail a pumpkin with a fireball at 40 paces. His sword skills were positively laughable and that was a deal breaker for her.
"Four years Marvo. Four years I've been giving you sword lessons and you haven't learned shit." She'd said, storming off and muttering something about how he never took her seriously.
Like most bipeds, Marvo believed in passing it on. So he did.
Friday, December 3, 2010
It Is Done
My final short story is done. 19 pages. 6,500 word or so. Not bad, not bad at all. And might I even be so brazen as to suggest it is a pleasant read?
I am actually proud of it, something I can't say happens as often as it probably should. I dug deep and hit a new level of editing on it, which I am also happy and proud of.
Is it perfect? Hardly so, but it is as good as I can make it currently and that is better than anything else I've produced to date, so I will take my hard-earned victory and enjoy it.
Now, if only I can make my final script and major research essay (among others) as snazzy, I will surely end this semester exhausted, but pleased.
Totally unrelated note (or maybe it is, who knows! I should probably monitor these things more closely) my dreams have been awesome lately.
I am actually proud of it, something I can't say happens as often as it probably should. I dug deep and hit a new level of editing on it, which I am also happy and proud of.
Is it perfect? Hardly so, but it is as good as I can make it currently and that is better than anything else I've produced to date, so I will take my hard-earned victory and enjoy it.
Now, if only I can make my final script and major research essay (among others) as snazzy, I will surely end this semester exhausted, but pleased.
Totally unrelated note (or maybe it is, who knows! I should probably monitor these things more closely) my dreams have been awesome lately.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
How It Fills My Nostrils So
The people I live with need to learn how not to burn the shit out of things till the smoke of it fills every crevice and corner and collects in my room to my utter ruin. Day after day. After day.
.
.
.
After day.
Perhaps I could find some perfume to snort. I can't imagine it doing more damage.
For fuck's sake people, when you lay odiferous civil war to the house have the courtesy to open a fucking window.
I'm going to go retch until this... odor is replaced with the far lovelier scent of my own vomit.
.
.
.
After day.
Perhaps I could find some perfume to snort. I can't imagine it doing more damage.
For fuck's sake people, when you lay odiferous civil war to the house have the courtesy to open a fucking window.
I'm going to go retch until this... odor is replaced with the far lovelier scent of my own vomit.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Draft Back
Revisions to begin. Hoo, boy. This should be interesting.
I am tired folks. The semester can end any time now. My brain is fried.
On the plus side, delving this deep into this particular story has me ignoring homework to work on organizing one of my long drafts. Er, not that ignoring homework is good. That's bad, m'kay, but the organizing and writing is good.
What's also interesting is that my dreams are starting to come back as well, and get back to their usual, wacky selves. I missed you guys!
Oh yea, I got my script back too. "A" baby. YEA! Iz so happy and proud. Iz learnin'! An educated is me!
I am tired folks. The semester can end any time now. My brain is fried.
On the plus side, delving this deep into this particular story has me ignoring homework to work on organizing one of my long drafts. Er, not that ignoring homework is good. That's bad, m'kay, but the organizing and writing is good.
What's also interesting is that my dreams are starting to come back as well, and get back to their usual, wacky selves. I missed you guys!
Oh yea, I got my script back too. "A" baby. YEA! Iz so happy and proud. Iz learnin'! An educated is me!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Odds and Sods
Going The Distance is a fantastic fucking movie. I laughed so hard, so many times. One to own. "Tastes like poison!"
Less than a month left in the semester. Holy shit, where did the time go? So many assignments left! So little time in which to get them done! Every time I turn around I've lost a month's worth of time somehow.
If You Run by Boxer Rebellion. Also fantastic.
Turns out my script prof will be teaching the next level of the course next semester. I talked to her and she very enthusiastically has allowed me to take one of my short ideas and expand on it with every assignment next semester. Basically by the time both courses are done, I'll have almost a full length movie scripted out. I am simultaneously very excited, and daunted by the task I've assigned myself. Wild West Steampunk (also known as Weird West) with some extra twists folks. Can't wait.
If they ever get around to offering the next fiction work-shopping course I'm going to ask to do the same for that. There's no way I'll get a book done, by any means, but I might be able to get a significant chunk of one knocked off.
Still looking for a beginner's drawing class. Haven't given up on that. Still wish I had a fucking artist for the webcomic idea(s) swimming in my brain.
I wish I had something funny to write, but there's been a dearth of funny lately.
Maybe I need to have a life like this woman's: http://thebloggess.com/
On second thought. No. No I don't.
Less than a month left in the semester. Holy shit, where did the time go? So many assignments left! So little time in which to get them done! Every time I turn around I've lost a month's worth of time somehow.
If You Run by Boxer Rebellion. Also fantastic.
Turns out my script prof will be teaching the next level of the course next semester. I talked to her and she very enthusiastically has allowed me to take one of my short ideas and expand on it with every assignment next semester. Basically by the time both courses are done, I'll have almost a full length movie scripted out. I am simultaneously very excited, and daunted by the task I've assigned myself. Wild West Steampunk (also known as Weird West) with some extra twists folks. Can't wait.
If they ever get around to offering the next fiction work-shopping course I'm going to ask to do the same for that. There's no way I'll get a book done, by any means, but I might be able to get a significant chunk of one knocked off.
Still looking for a beginner's drawing class. Haven't given up on that. Still wish I had a fucking artist for the webcomic idea(s) swimming in my brain.
I wish I had something funny to write, but there's been a dearth of funny lately.
Maybe I need to have a life like this woman's: http://thebloggess.com/
On second thought. No. No I don't.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Speaking of Writing
Handed in the rough draft of my longest story yet for class. Waiting to get critique back so I can fix it because I already know it needs work. I hate handing in anything that unfinished, but, well, it was a rough draft and all.
Don't you hate it when you flat out know you missed the mark on something you were trying to accomplish?
Also, 12 pages. Very cool. Cut down from 14. Though, I might have to add to it instead of taking more away.
Really wish they were offering the next level in the course during winter. Would really like to keep the momentum going.
Also, total aside here, the migraines need to stop. They make it impossible to concentrate.
Don't you hate it when you flat out know you missed the mark on something you were trying to accomplish?
Also, 12 pages. Very cool. Cut down from 14. Though, I might have to add to it instead of taking more away.
Really wish they were offering the next level in the course during winter. Would really like to keep the momentum going.
Also, total aside here, the migraines need to stop. They make it impossible to concentrate.
WoW Cata Changes
I really hate the changes to Prot Pallies. I really do. I hate them so much, I'm not going back (Oh noes! The drama!). I waited forever for pallies to be fun again, and they finally were and now they aren't again and I'm done with it. WoW as a whole just isn't fun anymore and hasn't been for a very long time.
I got a 7 day trial due to absence. Man, I'm glad I did because spending the money on a month's subscription only to find out just how much of a waste it was would have really pissed me off.
I wish I had a WoW alternative, but I haven't found one so far.
Ah, well, more time for writing I s'pose.
I got a 7 day trial due to absence. Man, I'm glad I did because spending the money on a month's subscription only to find out just how much of a waste it was would have really pissed me off.
I wish I had a WoW alternative, but I haven't found one so far.
Ah, well, more time for writing I s'pose.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Irony
Allow me to regal you with a tale...
Teacher: Class discussion on what will and will not be appropriate material for script class will now commence.
Several students (violently):
Don't censor us man!
Yea!
Don't tell us what to do maaan!
Yea!
We demand to be allowed to write whatever we want!
Yea, anything!
Anything at all!
Yea!
Porn!
Yea!
Racial epitaphs!
Hell yea!
Corpse mutilating, serial, child rapists!
OMGWTFBBQ Yea!
Other, calmer students:
Ok, anyone who wishes to write such things can do so, but people who are offended by certain material or find it extremely uncomfortable should be allowed to refrain from participating specifically with those stories.
Self-righteous "anti-censorship" students:
Fuck no!
Yea!
You should have to sit through it!
Yea!
To bad!
Make them sit through it!
Yea!
Me:
Uhm, you do realize what you're saying, yes?
Teacher: Class discussion on what will and will not be appropriate material for script class will now commence.
Several students (violently):
Don't censor us man!
Yea!
Don't tell us what to do maaan!
Yea!
We demand to be allowed to write whatever we want!
Yea, anything!
Anything at all!
Yea!
Porn!
Yea!
Racial epitaphs!
Hell yea!
Corpse mutilating, serial, child rapists!
OMGWTFBBQ Yea!
Other, calmer students:
Ok, anyone who wishes to write such things can do so, but people who are offended by certain material or find it extremely uncomfortable should be allowed to refrain from participating specifically with those stories.
Self-righteous "anti-censorship" students:
Fuck no!
Yea!
You should have to sit through it!
Yea!
To bad!
Make them sit through it!
Yea!
Me:
Uhm, you do realize what you're saying, yes?
Thursday, September 23, 2010
That thing, I Do Not Think It Does What You Think It Does
You know you might be tired when you try to change the tv channel with your cellphone.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
A Baking Lesson For You
If you're going to make muffins with cinnamon and toffee bits and a sort of coffee cake kind of taste to it (minus the coffee), don't put cranberries in it. Just don't. It doesn't work. I don't even know what I was thinking on that one.
Friday, September 17, 2010
I am Obsessed
with The Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour. This fucking song has me by the goddamn balls and refuses to let go. Which might hurt, but it is the sweetest of bitter sweet caresses.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xiq0IiGilXE&feature=fvw
I'm pretty sure I could listen to this for an hour solid and feel nothing but joy at having done so.
Forgive me, I must go listen some more. Enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xiq0IiGilXE&feature=fvw
I'm pretty sure I could listen to this for an hour solid and feel nothing but joy at having done so.
Forgive me, I must go listen some more. Enjoy.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Miscellaneous School Blatherings
Classes are going well. I'm taking a fiction writing workshop, a scriptwriting workshop and the requisite English class.
I was taking an art class and looking forward to learning to draw thankyouverymuch, but that is no more. It's mostly about painting and drawing shit that is way beyond me. This saddens me. I spent the first class being told to paint whatever. So there I am painting Pacman and getting it wrong while the goddamn girl next to me is doing fucking fully rendered shit. then we get the course syllabus and they're all "draw interpretations of so-and-so's art" and I'm all "please tell me how to hold the fucking pencil without stabbing myself in the eye." Incompatible!
So I'm on the hunt for a real beginner's art class, which the college doesn't have so I've had to broaden my horizons out to other potential schools and even local art stores. Maybe I will keep you posted, maybe I won't. That's the beauty of this place, you never know.
But seriously, the work-shopping classes are going well so far. The scriptwriting one is way out of my comfort zone, I don't even know how to write a script, but I'm learning and enjoying and that was the whole point of taking them.
I had more, but I've lost my train of thought.
I may have an "essay I'm not allowed to write" coming up soon based off a play we have to read for script class. We'll see. My homework load is insane.
I was taking an art class and looking forward to learning to draw thankyouverymuch, but that is no more. It's mostly about painting and drawing shit that is way beyond me. This saddens me. I spent the first class being told to paint whatever. So there I am painting Pacman and getting it wrong while the goddamn girl next to me is doing fucking fully rendered shit. then we get the course syllabus and they're all "draw interpretations of so-and-so's art" and I'm all "please tell me how to hold the fucking pencil without stabbing myself in the eye." Incompatible!
So I'm on the hunt for a real beginner's art class, which the college doesn't have so I've had to broaden my horizons out to other potential schools and even local art stores. Maybe I will keep you posted, maybe I won't. That's the beauty of this place, you never know.
But seriously, the work-shopping classes are going well so far. The scriptwriting one is way out of my comfort zone, I don't even know how to write a script, but I'm learning and enjoying and that was the whole point of taking them.
I had more, but I've lost my train of thought.
I may have an "essay I'm not allowed to write" coming up soon based off a play we have to read for script class. We'll see. My homework load is insane.
A Balanced Meal
I am not allowed to have pretzels for dinner.
I am not allowed to have pretzels for dinner.
I am- om nom nom nom
Goddammit.
I am not allowed to have pretzels for dinner.
I am- om nom nom nom
Goddammit.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
I Can Write Things That Don't Contain the Words Shit or Fuck in Them
I wrote the most amazing short story today. It's about a monster. It has no swearing in it! It was almost kid friendly, but then it had a little old lady lying unconscious in a puddle of her own fear-piss. I don't think publishers like that sort of thing. Then again, today’s youth are a cynical lot, maybe a woman lying in her own pee won’t phase them and everything will be fine.
Publishers! I haz story for you!
Publishers! I haz story for you!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Lit 101: or How to Increase the Rate of Suicide In Students!
Also known as:
Lit 101: Cause I wasn't suicidal enough!
Seriously. WTF is up with your depressing need to make a student's life – already rife with stress and misery – worse by subjecting us to the most depressing shit out there? The only thing possibly more depressing and really, it's a toss-up on which is; in fact, more depressing, is the newspaper. Lets rundown the list and see what they have in common.
Depressing subject matter? Check for both.
Rape, murder and humans committing atrocities against one another? Check, check and check! Woooo doggie!
Depressing subject matter? Check and check.
Stories that make me want to take the Knife of Bittersweet Release to my wrist? CHECK.
I was going to write something atrociously funny about the latest novel we've been force-fed, but I don't even have the fucking energy to. It's all just too much. Instead I'm going to curl up in a hot tub, (er, that is a tub filled with hot water. I am not privileged enough to own a hot tub, hot tub) and the Knife of Bittersweet Release and run into the light to that great, wide, nothingness beyond.*
*No, not really. There's no plug for the fucking tub in this goddamn fucking place.
**Yes, yes, I still owe the story of my two times near death experience. It's coming! Stop hassling me already. (And by stop I mean someone please? Harass me for the story. Anyone? Bueller?)
Literature teachers. Here's a clue, because you seem to be in desperate need of one. In your mindless zealotry to turn us all into lit snobs, you don't seem to realize that the boring ass, depressing, distasteful shit you force-feed us only serves to send student after student running as far and fast away from your precious literature as we can possibly get. If you want more people to actually enjoy reading this god-forsaken shit, try writing something happy. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't kill you. Unlike the rest of this shit.
Lit 101: Cause I wasn't suicidal enough!
Seriously. WTF is up with your depressing need to make a student's life – already rife with stress and misery – worse by subjecting us to the most depressing shit out there? The only thing possibly more depressing and really, it's a toss-up on which is; in fact, more depressing, is the newspaper. Lets rundown the list and see what they have in common.
Depressing subject matter? Check for both.
Rape, murder and humans committing atrocities against one another? Check, check and check! Woooo doggie!
Depressing subject matter? Check and check.
Stories that make me want to take the Knife of Bittersweet Release to my wrist? CHECK.
I was going to write something atrociously funny about the latest novel we've been force-fed, but I don't even have the fucking energy to. It's all just too much. Instead I'm going to curl up in a hot tub, (er, that is a tub filled with hot water. I am not privileged enough to own a hot tub, hot tub) and the Knife of Bittersweet Release and run into the light to that great, wide, nothingness beyond.*
*No, not really. There's no plug for the fucking tub in this goddamn fucking place.
**Yes, yes, I still owe the story of my two times near death experience. It's coming! Stop hassling me already. (And by stop I mean someone please? Harass me for the story. Anyone? Bueller?)
Literature teachers. Here's a clue, because you seem to be in desperate need of one. In your mindless zealotry to turn us all into lit snobs, you don't seem to realize that the boring ass, depressing, distasteful shit you force-feed us only serves to send student after student running as far and fast away from your precious literature as we can possibly get. If you want more people to actually enjoy reading this god-forsaken shit, try writing something happy. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't kill you. Unlike the rest of this shit.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Fuck You Taming Of The Shrew
Fuck you, you irritating, misogynistic piece of shit.
Goddamn I do not like you. I do not like it Sam I am. Do. Not. Want.
Instructors with Literary Stockholm Syndrome are equally irritating. Dude, I am sorry this shit was inflicted on you. I truly am, but break the fucking cycle already.
Shakespeare, like most literature, is not all that and a bag of chips. Sticking a dress on it and taking the glasses off does not a pretty girl make it.
Fuck I'm tired of writing essays on bullshit. Actually, I'm just plain tired period. That whole not dying thing takes a lot out of a person.
Goddamn I do not like you. I do not like it Sam I am. Do. Not. Want.
Instructors with Literary Stockholm Syndrome are equally irritating. Dude, I am sorry this shit was inflicted on you. I truly am, but break the fucking cycle already.
Shakespeare, like most literature, is not all that and a bag of chips. Sticking a dress on it and taking the glasses off does not a pretty girl make it.
Fuck I'm tired of writing essays on bullshit. Actually, I'm just plain tired period. That whole not dying thing takes a lot out of a person.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The essays I'm not allowed to write
I don't know why. It's not like the shit they make you read is any better. Also I have in no way, shape, or form spell-checked or grammar checked this shit; the reasons for which will become abundantly clear. Also it's late and I just don't give a fuck because I have this shit essay due and it's pissing me the hell off.
Question: Analyze the conflicts in one of the short stories we've discussed...
So yo check this shit out, my man michael is all like “this village needs an enema” and Ani is all like, "don't be disrespecting my peeps" and the school board was all like, "we need a fall guy so get in there and do your 'modern' thing" and of course michael was like "yo, this is my chance fool!" And his wife was like, “yay all the other wives will have to look up to me cause I'm head wife and I have all the power. Wait... what does the magazine tell me about this again?” And michael was like, “woman! We must go forth and save this terribly backwards town from itself. We must wipe away all traces of the past. Are ya with me woman?! Can I get an AMEN!” (not that michael was a religious man per se, but everyone needs an AMEN once in a while and anyways it was a good rallying point, that's what his “expert secondary schooling” said one time he was pretty sure, of course he had done that line of coke, but he could still think. Everyone knows that shit don't mess your head up.
So he grabbed his wife (who totally permitted it because it was the most play she's gotten in two months and my god that pool boy was looking tasty) and they saddled up and off they went to the far- I mean school. And the wife was like "Weeee I want flowers. flowers everywhere!" And Michael was all like "Yes. Flowers represent order and order pleases me. Woman! Make with the orderly flower beds everywhere (he likes to pretend this shit is all his idea) and the wife was all, nodding dutifully while trying to hide her mopey smile because there were no other wives and who wants to rule over an empty court.
And all was well for a day or three until high and mighty headmaster michael noticed some old crone wandering through a hedge and trapsing over his nice modern flower beds so he stormed off to one of the slack-jawed teachers who'd been there so long that it'd all gotten to him and he didn't care anymore and the only thing he lived for anymore was the bottle under his bed and michael accosted the teach (luckily in a moment of sobriety) and demanded, I say demanded(!) to know what the fuck (only he didn't say fuck because modern people don't stoop to such blatant vulgarities), what the fuck was up with the old bitch fucking up the flower beds (only he most definitely didn't use the words bitch or fucking) and the old boozehound teacher was all like, "It's some ancient burial path or something, I dunno. look, they do this. they've always done this. don't fight this shit it's bigger than the both of us." And michael was like, I don't bloody think so (because adding british colloquialisms was all the rage back home), I'll not give into some crazy, old hunchback dependent on some ancient hoodoo, I get paid good money to wipe this shit off the face of the earth!" And mister bottle was like, fine, fuck whatever, but I'm warning you this caused a stink last time." So michael storms off in a self-righteous huff muttering about some people's narrowmindedness and orders the slave boys to put up a fence with some barb wire and shit blocking the path.
So ani the village elder and keeper of all things old and wrinkly and way before anyone else's time click-clacks up to michael (who believes in being accessible to the riff-raff for image sake) and my god but this story is fucking boring and I'v lost my train of thought here but the two of them disagree and then a child or some shit dies and the village seriously goes on a rampage all godzilla style and tears some shit down and the school of course does an about face and blames michael and that's the end of the fucking story and thank god because I'm tired and I have a movie to watch or something...
Question: Analyze the conflicts in one of the short stories we've discussed...
So yo check this shit out, my man michael is all like “this village needs an enema” and Ani is all like, "don't be disrespecting my peeps" and the school board was all like, "we need a fall guy so get in there and do your 'modern' thing" and of course michael was like "yo, this is my chance fool!" And his wife was like, “yay all the other wives will have to look up to me cause I'm head wife and I have all the power. Wait... what does the magazine tell me about this again?” And michael was like, “woman! We must go forth and save this terribly backwards town from itself. We must wipe away all traces of the past. Are ya with me woman?! Can I get an AMEN!” (not that michael was a religious man per se, but everyone needs an AMEN once in a while and anyways it was a good rallying point, that's what his “expert secondary schooling” said one time he was pretty sure, of course he had done that line of coke, but he could still think. Everyone knows that shit don't mess your head up.
So he grabbed his wife (who totally permitted it because it was the most play she's gotten in two months and my god that pool boy was looking tasty) and they saddled up and off they went to the far- I mean school. And the wife was like "Weeee I want flowers. flowers everywhere!" And Michael was all like "Yes. Flowers represent order and order pleases me. Woman! Make with the orderly flower beds everywhere (he likes to pretend this shit is all his idea) and the wife was all, nodding dutifully while trying to hide her mopey smile because there were no other wives and who wants to rule over an empty court.
And all was well for a day or three until high and mighty headmaster michael noticed some old crone wandering through a hedge and trapsing over his nice modern flower beds so he stormed off to one of the slack-jawed teachers who'd been there so long that it'd all gotten to him and he didn't care anymore and the only thing he lived for anymore was the bottle under his bed and michael accosted the teach (luckily in a moment of sobriety) and demanded, I say demanded(!) to know what the fuck (only he didn't say fuck because modern people don't stoop to such blatant vulgarities), what the fuck was up with the old bitch fucking up the flower beds (only he most definitely didn't use the words bitch or fucking) and the old boozehound teacher was all like, "It's some ancient burial path or something, I dunno. look, they do this. they've always done this. don't fight this shit it's bigger than the both of us." And michael was like, I don't bloody think so (because adding british colloquialisms was all the rage back home), I'll not give into some crazy, old hunchback dependent on some ancient hoodoo, I get paid good money to wipe this shit off the face of the earth!" And mister bottle was like, fine, fuck whatever, but I'm warning you this caused a stink last time." So michael storms off in a self-righteous huff muttering about some people's narrowmindedness and orders the slave boys to put up a fence with some barb wire and shit blocking the path.
So ani the village elder and keeper of all things old and wrinkly and way before anyone else's time click-clacks up to michael (who believes in being accessible to the riff-raff for image sake) and my god but this story is fucking boring and I'v lost my train of thought here but the two of them disagree and then a child or some shit dies and the village seriously goes on a rampage all godzilla style and tears some shit down and the school of course does an about face and blames michael and that's the end of the fucking story and thank god because I'm tired and I have a movie to watch or something...
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Reboot?
I'm going to try and get back into posting for this thing.
In my head, Yoda is yelling "do or do not." Yoda's kind of a dick. Unless that was Mister Miyagi. Shit, I can't remember.
Great, now I've got a short green guy in a kimono dancing around a car he's raising with the power of his mi-er the force, yelling at me and plucking flies out of the air with a pair of chopsticks. Not that Mister Miyagi (or Yoda for that matter) ever wore a kimono in either movie. My head just likes to run with things. I guess my head can be kind of a dick too. Way to go dickhead.
Oh man, this blog is totally not gonna be safe for work or children. Or people with aversions to Yoda in a kimono acting like a dick.
In my head, Yoda is yelling "do or do not." Yoda's kind of a dick. Unless that was Mister Miyagi. Shit, I can't remember.
Great, now I've got a short green guy in a kimono dancing around a car he's raising with the power of his mi-er the force, yelling at me and plucking flies out of the air with a pair of chopsticks. Not that Mister Miyagi (or Yoda for that matter) ever wore a kimono in either movie. My head just likes to run with things. I guess my head can be kind of a dick too. Way to go dickhead.
Oh man, this blog is totally not gonna be safe for work or children. Or people with aversions to Yoda in a kimono acting like a dick.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Looking Back, Looking Forward
Sooo, this is awkward. Haven't seen you around for a while. Where ya been?
Oh, you know, 'round. Busy.
:)
Anyways, 2009 was an interesting year on many fronts, not the least of which was writing. I'm not going to miss 2009 as some great year by which all others shall be measured though. I do have strong hopes for 2010 cuz it's poised to be a good one, but I am glad to be done with 2009.
I'm not a New Year's resolutions kind of person as I firmly believe and practice revising myself throughout the year, but I do find the turning of the year to be a time of extra analysis and thought. So, with that in mind, some of my plans for the new year...
Swear more. Really. The world needs more creative swearing.
Ahem.
Get back on the exercising track.
Eating habits slid horribly before holiday food kicked in, but holiday food definitely helped it slide farther towards terribad. So, back to my boring, strict eating style of -mostly- healthy.
Finish a fucking piece of writing. Yes. Yes I will do this, this year.
Learn to make that bitch of an inner editor shut up even further. I will ply that bitch with Valium or sedatives or whatever it takes for her to chill the fuck out while I'm trying to get shit down on paper.
Figure out how best to cajole muse out of hole she seems to prefer to live in. Jesus woman, there's light up here and fun and games and...and... oh fuck it just keep me company already will ya? I promise you a real vacation with sunshine and a beach and everything if you just come play with me this year.
Lay off the how to get published blogs until I am, you know, actually ready to be published. I really don't need to fill my head up with negative platitudes about how hard it is to get published. I understand it's similar to wining the lottery. I don't need to dwell on this fact, thank you. Instead I will concentrate on staying mostly sane and writing something worthy of being in print, then I will call upon the publishing and agent faeries to come whisk my darling words away to the magical land of print and hefty advances.
Dream more.
Things I accomplished in 2009:
Learned more about my writing style, creative process and patterns and pitfalls I'm especially prone to.
Eased up ever so slightly on inner editor while getting first drafts down.
Learned to be a more positive person so that, you know, the good things I want could actually happen instead of getting stopped at the door by the bouncer of absolute pessimism. He's a huge fucker and he wields a mean bat of negation.
Learned how to open the Idea Door up. It was wielded shut before you see. Stupid glass doors as strong as steel with mocking faces on the other side. I BEAT YOU! YU R HALF DOAR NAO.
Oh hells, this post was supposed to contain my musings on my creative process. It is very long now though. So, uh, maybe next post in 6 months time yes?
Oh, you know, 'round. Busy.
:)
Anyways, 2009 was an interesting year on many fronts, not the least of which was writing. I'm not going to miss 2009 as some great year by which all others shall be measured though. I do have strong hopes for 2010 cuz it's poised to be a good one, but I am glad to be done with 2009.
I'm not a New Year's resolutions kind of person as I firmly believe and practice revising myself throughout the year, but I do find the turning of the year to be a time of extra analysis and thought. So, with that in mind, some of my plans for the new year...
Swear more. Really. The world needs more creative swearing.
Ahem.
Get back on the exercising track.
Eating habits slid horribly before holiday food kicked in, but holiday food definitely helped it slide farther towards terribad. So, back to my boring, strict eating style of -mostly- healthy.
Finish a fucking piece of writing. Yes. Yes I will do this, this year.
Learn to make that bitch of an inner editor shut up even further. I will ply that bitch with Valium or sedatives or whatever it takes for her to chill the fuck out while I'm trying to get shit down on paper.
Figure out how best to cajole muse out of hole she seems to prefer to live in. Jesus woman, there's light up here and fun and games and...and... oh fuck it just keep me company already will ya? I promise you a real vacation with sunshine and a beach and everything if you just come play with me this year.
Lay off the how to get published blogs until I am, you know, actually ready to be published. I really don't need to fill my head up with negative platitudes about how hard it is to get published. I understand it's similar to wining the lottery. I don't need to dwell on this fact, thank you. Instead I will concentrate on staying mostly sane and writing something worthy of being in print, then I will call upon the publishing and agent faeries to come whisk my darling words away to the magical land of print and hefty advances.
Dream more.
Things I accomplished in 2009:
Learned more about my writing style, creative process and patterns and pitfalls I'm especially prone to.
Eased up ever so slightly on inner editor while getting first drafts down.
Learned to be a more positive person so that, you know, the good things I want could actually happen instead of getting stopped at the door by the bouncer of absolute pessimism. He's a huge fucker and he wields a mean bat of negation.
Learned how to open the Idea Door up. It was wielded shut before you see. Stupid glass doors as strong as steel with mocking faces on the other side. I BEAT YOU! YU R HALF DOAR NAO.
Oh hells, this post was supposed to contain my musings on my creative process. It is very long now though. So, uh, maybe next post in 6 months time yes?