I've reached a self epidemic. Greed's possessing me, but greed to me or for them? I'm beginning to self destruct. My colorful goals go gray. They stray from my path, I'm lost. Regarding myself only produces ugly thoughts. Regret piles up in front of me, I can't see my way forward. The concrete road rips at me while I look back; it's the only thing to do.
Questions rise; do I really want to? With the questions comes more regret, not I'm surrounded by a dome of it. All of this occurs in a matter of six seconds or less. Why try? Why not? Why start? Why not? Why finish? Why not?
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Creative Constraint
Creative Constraint
noun-
1. A constraint that forces a writer to stray away from curse words, based on the fact that anyone can curse and the inevitable weakening of the writing.
I pondered on the past two posts, and realized that the curses molded the piece into a naturally ugly thing. My apologies to you, the reader, and to my writing, the thing that suffered the most. Speaking with an overseer, who shares the same passion for writing as I do (though he inspired me, and my passion can never be as tenacious as his is) forced me to come to the verdict that even while cussing projects a heavy dose of emotion, it should be used with care. Thinking of those words makes me think of saffron; if you use too much of it, your dish will become decimated from the inside out. Much as the writing will. Read the past post and you'll see how harsh and animal it became.
As an afterthought, I think it'll be nice to salute Steinbeck, Salinger, and my dear father; the men who inspired me to curse in my art, and in life, but also professed the learning of the core of writing; the heart of it, before you get to a stage where you can let it rip.
noun-
1. A constraint that forces a writer to stray away from curse words, based on the fact that anyone can curse and the inevitable weakening of the writing.
I pondered on the past two posts, and realized that the curses molded the piece into a naturally ugly thing. My apologies to you, the reader, and to my writing, the thing that suffered the most. Speaking with an overseer, who shares the same passion for writing as I do (though he inspired me, and my passion can never be as tenacious as his is) forced me to come to the verdict that even while cussing projects a heavy dose of emotion, it should be used with care. Thinking of those words makes me think of saffron; if you use too much of it, your dish will become decimated from the inside out. Much as the writing will. Read the past post and you'll see how harsh and animal it became.
As an afterthought, I think it'll be nice to salute Steinbeck, Salinger, and my dear father; the men who inspired me to curse in my art, and in life, but also professed the learning of the core of writing; the heart of it, before you get to a stage where you can let it rip.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Rules- A Memoir
The serene sound of safety illuminated through my open window. I stepped out of my bulky, pitch black SUV and was devoured by sunlight. Keys jingled openly in the palm of my hand, dancing to the sun.
"Ah!" I yelped. My ripe hand jerked from the door handle. A throbbing patch of skin was wailing up at me from point blank. Damn the world, why do you have to take so much sunlight! The sun was too much to bare, off to safety. My shoes paddled the gravel, I made my way up the opaque staircase. Halted at the worn out front door, I carelessly kicked it from it's base. It swung open to reveal a partially agape interior door. The pale, finely mastered curtain didn't do any harm, as there was nothing threatening to see beyond the glass door.
All was intact; the rich, brown rails were lustrous and the stairway made it's usual crack and creek. I finally made it to my door. The green monkey key slip fumbled in my hand, but I managed to keep it in the hole. . . No click of the lock... A taste of discontent mounted itself in my tongue, as if it had all day. Deliberately, the door opened to reveal a splinter of wood, laying deceased on the floor. Damn the world, damn it to hell! I knew how it had went down.
"Where ever you are, who ever the hell you are, get the f**k out of my house!" I boomed with the bull horn that sat atop my tongue. I scoped my home. The results crashed upon me. TV, compromised. Laptop, compromised. Jewelry, compromised. Not a trace left. From under my family's nose came burgalers, not knowing what to look for, but knowing the price they'd pay. It was a price they'd never. They knew what's others is theirs if they take it; they knew how the world worked. Apparently, the door and the laptop and the TV and the dear jewelry didn't. They were never told, I'd fancy if they did!
My body stood still in the hallway, my shirt stained to a darker purple with tears. They took my laptop. They took my laptop. They took my laptop. They took my pictures, my pictures, my pictures. They took my beautiful pictures! Five thousand pictures, burnt to the ground! A sudden jult of realization came to me. They'd taken my music, my music! The dear thing that I loved the most, the dear thing I listened to everyday! They took my music, my art, my life! I weeped, but stayed up in the air, my arm posed to the wall, holding me up. God damn it! Damn it all! Why! Why? We hadn't protected it! It's my fault... A voice in my head screamed at, me. TELL SOMEONE!
***
Crusade after crusade of thumping and thwarting exploded trough my ear drums as I galloped down the staircase. "Bruce!" I pleaded to the man with white whiskers, and a dented face of wisdom.
"Yes?" A profound voice echoed in the death like silence. I had to tell someone, he seemed as he could help. My voice shattered my frightened lips, but I dry crack of words came out.
"M-m-my," No! He regarded me with confusion in his face. Through the thick glasses he saw the angst in my eyes. "My house! Someone's broken in, they took my things! My moms things! Please!" The thick glasses couldn't hold back the size of his eyes, they grew large.
"What!?" He thwaped the air with a bellow. "But how could this of happened? I mean, I didn't hear anything! Where you home?"
"No! No, I just got here! My mom's not here, but someone broke in and took all of our stuff!" This time the railing didn't shake, I was still as colorful thoughts of slaying them entered my mind. A bounce in my shoes carried me up the stairwell as Bruce followed, hastily yet still slowly, behind.
Light pounced onto the splintered wood, Bruce looked in awe. "Go get your father, I'll tell everyone else."
Time sped up, it ripped me apart. The world; the timing. Maybe a minute had passed between the time I discovered the truth. Once again the glass door swung open again. I was back at my black SUV. I perched my burnt hand on the door.
"The house, someone broke in! My laptop's gone and everything!" My breath heavy, I whined.
"God damn it! What the hell?" His words portrayed the world itself. It projected the world and it's laws of life. That's just the world I'm living in; a world where no one's warned. We weren't even warned that life had rules, we'd broken the rules.
"Ah!" I yelped. My ripe hand jerked from the door handle. A throbbing patch of skin was wailing up at me from point blank. Damn the world, why do you have to take so much sunlight! The sun was too much to bare, off to safety. My shoes paddled the gravel, I made my way up the opaque staircase. Halted at the worn out front door, I carelessly kicked it from it's base. It swung open to reveal a partially agape interior door. The pale, finely mastered curtain didn't do any harm, as there was nothing threatening to see beyond the glass door.
All was intact; the rich, brown rails were lustrous and the stairway made it's usual crack and creek. I finally made it to my door. The green monkey key slip fumbled in my hand, but I managed to keep it in the hole. . . No click of the lock... A taste of discontent mounted itself in my tongue, as if it had all day. Deliberately, the door opened to reveal a splinter of wood, laying deceased on the floor. Damn the world, damn it to hell! I knew how it had went down.
"Where ever you are, who ever the hell you are, get the f**k out of my house!" I boomed with the bull horn that sat atop my tongue. I scoped my home. The results crashed upon me. TV, compromised. Laptop, compromised. Jewelry, compromised. Not a trace left. From under my family's nose came burgalers, not knowing what to look for, but knowing the price they'd pay. It was a price they'd never. They knew what's others is theirs if they take it; they knew how the world worked. Apparently, the door and the laptop and the TV and the dear jewelry didn't. They were never told, I'd fancy if they did!
My body stood still in the hallway, my shirt stained to a darker purple with tears. They took my laptop. They took my laptop. They took my laptop. They took my pictures, my pictures, my pictures. They took my beautiful pictures! Five thousand pictures, burnt to the ground! A sudden jult of realization came to me. They'd taken my music, my music! The dear thing that I loved the most, the dear thing I listened to everyday! They took my music, my art, my life! I weeped, but stayed up in the air, my arm posed to the wall, holding me up. God damn it! Damn it all! Why! Why? We hadn't protected it! It's my fault... A voice in my head screamed at, me. TELL SOMEONE!
***
Crusade after crusade of thumping and thwarting exploded trough my ear drums as I galloped down the staircase. "Bruce!" I pleaded to the man with white whiskers, and a dented face of wisdom.
"Yes?" A profound voice echoed in the death like silence. I had to tell someone, he seemed as he could help. My voice shattered my frightened lips, but I dry crack of words came out.
"M-m-my," No! He regarded me with confusion in his face. Through the thick glasses he saw the angst in my eyes. "My house! Someone's broken in, they took my things! My moms things! Please!" The thick glasses couldn't hold back the size of his eyes, they grew large.
"What!?" He thwaped the air with a bellow. "But how could this of happened? I mean, I didn't hear anything! Where you home?"
"No! No, I just got here! My mom's not here, but someone broke in and took all of our stuff!" This time the railing didn't shake, I was still as colorful thoughts of slaying them entered my mind. A bounce in my shoes carried me up the stairwell as Bruce followed, hastily yet still slowly, behind.
Light pounced onto the splintered wood, Bruce looked in awe. "Go get your father, I'll tell everyone else."
Time sped up, it ripped me apart. The world; the timing. Maybe a minute had passed between the time I discovered the truth. Once again the glass door swung open again. I was back at my black SUV. I perched my burnt hand on the door.
"The house, someone broke in! My laptop's gone and everything!" My breath heavy, I whined.
"God damn it! What the hell?" His words portrayed the world itself. It projected the world and it's laws of life. That's just the world I'm living in; a world where no one's warned. We weren't even warned that life had rules, we'd broken the rules.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Walt Disney Company Purchases Marvel, What The F...?
I'm not an addict, but Marvel comics is still pretty kicks ass. Iron Man? Spiderman? Captain America? More like Iron Mickey, Salinaman, and Captain Corey In The House. Okay, so there's some evidential dents in the claim that Disney is completely, utterly the worst thing to happen to mankind. For one, Disney Pixar is to me, the ace of Disney. Ratatoullie, Toy Story, and Walle were amazing, and my eyes googled when I saw a rat creating a cream soup in "Gusteaus". But other than that, what more is there than bad acting, sore and ridiculous music, and the main goal of money?
Gusteau had spread the hope with his main belief; "Anyone can cook". Yes, I believe that, I can cook, my mom can cook, a caveman could cook. But Remy really stuck it out. It's Remy's belief that "Anyone can cook, but that doesn't mean anyone should!". Again, he's right! That directly applies to the Disney Channel, because they have already spread bad music, horrific movies, and now they're heading Marvel and are probably going to turn it into another garbage pile. Good job Disney, great job. Clap your hands everyone, your first edition Spiderman comics are now worth horse-shit because some rich guys who think they can change the world by spending four billion dollars on a great comic company RIGHT AS DISNEY WAS ABOUT TO GO TO THE DUMPS! Most people agree with the notion that Disney Channel is going to hell. Yes, I'm talking to you Miley, and you too, Jonass Bothers. Kids are being brainwashed by the Disney Channel becuase it's appealing to them as toddlers, and they naturally grow up to love Hannah Montana becuase it just happens, and they become extremely closed minded in the case of most things due to the fact that there's nothing to watch because it just completely brainwashes them! My appologies, my logic's off due to my intense rage!
My hopes are high that you agree with me. Just look at what the world's being run by; MTV and the Disney Channel. I wonder what Obama was specifying when he said that change was for the best. Oh, I know! No more Disney Channel!
Gusteau had spread the hope with his main belief; "Anyone can cook". Yes, I believe that, I can cook, my mom can cook, a caveman could cook. But Remy really stuck it out. It's Remy's belief that "Anyone can cook, but that doesn't mean anyone should!". Again, he's right! That directly applies to the Disney Channel, because they have already spread bad music, horrific movies, and now they're heading Marvel and are probably going to turn it into another garbage pile. Good job Disney, great job. Clap your hands everyone, your first edition Spiderman comics are now worth horse-shit because some rich guys who think they can change the world by spending four billion dollars on a great comic company RIGHT AS DISNEY WAS ABOUT TO GO TO THE DUMPS! Most people agree with the notion that Disney Channel is going to hell. Yes, I'm talking to you Miley, and you too, Jonass Bothers. Kids are being brainwashed by the Disney Channel becuase it's appealing to them as toddlers, and they naturally grow up to love Hannah Montana becuase it just happens, and they become extremely closed minded in the case of most things due to the fact that there's nothing to watch because it just completely brainwashes them! My appologies, my logic's off due to my intense rage!
My hopes are high that you agree with me. Just look at what the world's being run by; MTV and the Disney Channel. I wonder what Obama was specifying when he said that change was for the best. Oh, I know! No more Disney Channel!
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Bear the Corneyness!
Piles of things to create, to write about. Despite that, a blank space is abiding to be replenished up in my head. Honestly, I'm fatigued in the head enough to prompt the of ending of brilliant ideas.
Tonight I'll sleep on the floor, maybe there's something more to look up to in the dark... As a symbol and a realistic thesis, this claims that I have the ability to speak the ideas of a martyr, ready and excited about his resolutions. Something to look up to in the dark, but I catch myself sprinting forward, but sprinting to a deadline that was yet to be found.
No, seriously, I have to move downstairs. I could use that to project the way I feel about various things. Sometimes I love, sometimes I like, and sometimes I loath. Most likely, moving downstairs will mold the way I look at my profits into that of a grateful person. At most times, an undertaker is more grateful than I am.
Most people know me to go as low as low will go if low went lower than low. They know me as well by how I go higher than high if high went even higher than high. Of course I'm moving downstairs, it's the common house change. My legislative branch is used to switches from republican to democrat, and back and back again. Does that remind you of yourself?
My executive branch is getting off of it's ass this year, in my hopes, and probably will have to push me. If not, there's going to be a dent in the couch by the end of the year.
Honestly, I'm out of juice, and my judicial branch votes I part.
Live long and prosper.
Tonight I'll sleep on the floor, maybe there's something more to look up to in the dark... As a symbol and a realistic thesis, this claims that I have the ability to speak the ideas of a martyr, ready and excited about his resolutions. Something to look up to in the dark, but I catch myself sprinting forward, but sprinting to a deadline that was yet to be found.
No, seriously, I have to move downstairs. I could use that to project the way I feel about various things. Sometimes I love, sometimes I like, and sometimes I loath. Most likely, moving downstairs will mold the way I look at my profits into that of a grateful person. At most times, an undertaker is more grateful than I am.
Most people know me to go as low as low will go if low went lower than low. They know me as well by how I go higher than high if high went even higher than high. Of course I'm moving downstairs, it's the common house change. My legislative branch is used to switches from republican to democrat, and back and back again. Does that remind you of yourself?
My executive branch is getting off of it's ass this year, in my hopes, and probably will have to push me. If not, there's going to be a dent in the couch by the end of the year.
Honestly, I'm out of juice, and my judicial branch votes I part.
Live long and prosper.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Iron chefs. Pure, solid inspiration. Speed! Power! Flavor! Yes!
Nothing much to say, but today I was sprawled on the couch, letting the energy slowly run from my fingertips. Yes, you can call me a pussy. Psh, moving downstairs? I haven't tried that in a billion years! I'm dead ass tired, so don't blame me if my writing SUCKS...
It makes me so sullen to realize that my writing is disgusting now. I solemnly swear that tomorrow, my creations will be as polished as their ancestors used to be!
Nothing much to say, but today I was sprawled on the couch, letting the energy slowly run from my fingertips. Yes, you can call me a pussy. Psh, moving downstairs? I haven't tried that in a billion years! I'm dead ass tired, so don't blame me if my writing SUCKS...
It makes me so sullen to realize that my writing is disgusting now. I solemnly swear that tomorrow, my creations will be as polished as their ancestors used to be!
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