Only real data

I only use real words in my writing because I think it sounds better when things are real. Like, you can’t have a meal out of plastic food. There has to be actual food there for you to eat. Frankly, if it’s not real, like rally real, then how can you tell if something even exists?

It’s like…come on, it’s just so frustrating having to describe these simple concepts that are like, so totally ingrained in our nature. I mean, if poverty really exists, then why am I not impoverished, you know? So that’s not real data that I can use for my writing.

Another word that’s real that I like is “pizza.” It’s a real word that means food that’s in a circle with some cheese on top of bread on top of sauce, in that order. It’s very good, but I don’t like to eat too much because I have to watch my waistline. A waistline is something you get when you’re older and your legs have sprouted. Yeah, my legs didn’t sprout until I was seven, a little later than most, but oh well.

Another thing I like to do in my writing is to repeat things that mean stuff to me. If it doesn’t mean something, then I’ll like only say it once, but sometimes I’ll say it two times because of my bad memory. But anyone who knows me knows I have a bad memory, so if I say something three or four times, they know it’s really important.

Another thing I like to do in my writing is repeat things that are important to me. Cause then I’m able to remember it more and like where I left off, I can start again. Like a cycle of rebirth, drifting ever outward from the center of my creation, always molding and changing like the Atlantic Ocean during hurricane season.

Sometimes people tell me that my ideas aren’t good and stuff, but I tell them just look at Mark, and his ideas, and then they do that and come back to me and say what good ideas I have. Yeah, totally. Mark is like second rate, and I’m maybe like…not like first rate, but close to first rate. I think that’s why Mark gets jealous sometimes.

I also like to use opinions sometimes, like other people’s opinions from the newspaper. The newspaper doesn’t really use real facts all the time, so sometimes I have to get it from magazines. Tabloids are generally good cause I like the feel of them and the crust of the paper. It’s like a texture that my fingers like when they start thinking for me.

 

1st person, present

If people insist on writing in the first person, present tense, then how about they write steam-of-consciousness works? This crap where it’s the MC just observing what’s happening and reporting to the reader feels more impersonal and broken than writing in the third person.

“I walk down a hall. I see a dragon. Then I run away from the dragon.”

This is boring. I mean, I’m falling asleep here! Let’s jazz that up:

“The hallway is too dark, but there’s a little bright light that I see and I’m not sure if it’s just my eyes tricking me when I find a beast. Its jaws are going to destroy me, shit! Run, run, run, damnit, run!”

Anyone who wants to write in this style should be required to read James Joyce’s Ulysses.

Does your mind ever take a break? Are there times when you find that others have been talking, but you have not been listening? Of course! It happens all the time! So if you’re going to write in this style, don’t have the MC be a damned omnipotent god. In third person, it’s okay to reveal everything.

Just make it real. Put me in the person’s head. Their thoughts should be their actions.

The Martian does a pretty good job of it.

Procrasta-astanation…

The rolling waves of tomorrow’s crest destroy the passing thoughts of future obligations. The ocean drives its angry water further inward, deploying its salty weapons upon the empty shore. A man may think he has an inkling of his purpose, a goal in his mind, and the means to enact all this within his own power, but that envious wonderment is only the foam that the wind drives up the dunes.

The coast is worn from the storm’s thrashing. Erosion cycles its surface so that it shows preserved freshness, unnatural in its constant newness. The tree that was safe for decades from the water is now only a resting place for the birds. Had it been allowed to triumph against destruction, then what wonders may have flourished from its seed!

The gulls dare take flight from that stump just a minute fore the air’s weight crushes their wings. Collective calmness soothes their bellies, waiting for the storm to pass. Patience is a virtue, for it allows us to wait til the moment for action is ripe. It is also a curse, for it forces us to stake our aspirations in the ground.

The hazy dreams of yesterday float tween the water and the sun, afraid to evaporate in the cold air. The day brings heat, and soon, clear skies. Attempts are made to grasp onto one last cloud, but gusts blow the thought away. Another time, another place, another way. Just not today.

 

The Son Also Rises

I’m half convinced that Hemmingway just had a lot of random crap in his stories and hoped some kind of symbolism would come out of it…

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Bobby said that Sue wouldn’t love him after that. He was always saying things like that, and only half the time believed it. I knew that Sue would be fine.

We left the store and had some drinks behind the counter at the Select. The drinks were nice. I enjoyed a whiskey. Bobby got the same dark beer he always drank in moods like this.

“It’s just that, I don’t know that she’ll forgive me.”

“Don’t be a fool,” I said.

“Jack, it’s true. Settle down.”

“Settle down? I’ll settle when I fucking feel like it.”

“Oh, come on now Jack. Relax a little. I only wanted to talk about my Sue and see where it will take us.”

I sipped my whiskey and spied the dancing floor.

“That’s it, how about a dance? That lass right there is rather frisky. Or the blonde in the green dress, how’s that for you?”

The barkeep poured me another whiskey.

“Let’s talk about my Sue.”

“What obligation do you have? You’re not married and haven’t promised it.”

“Well, there are certain expectations involved.”

“Your last left before those could be fulfilled.”

“Sue isn’t like Kate, not in the least. Why, if Sue and Kate stood next to each other in my home, I’d have to take Sue.”

“In the same way you’d have to take your current car because you’ve already placed the deposit.”

“Oh, come now, Jake.”

“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Bobby looked at the dance floor, then the bar, and sipped his beer.

I drained my third glass.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I have to send off some e-mails, get back home,” I said, leaving Bobby in the bar. He’d follow me home and knock on my door. I’d probably open it and let him in for a drink or smoke.

Little changes.

 

I finally completed my character outline after 82 years. Please read.

Wacky Doodle – Always whipping it out and masturbating, the one thing he wants is to finally find his lost towel.

Penelope Vagina – Wacky’s love interest, the only thing she is interested in is swooning over people who aren’t Wacky.

Marco Daniels – Totally is a dick who Wacky hates. He wants to have intimate relations with Penelope, even though he doesn’t deserve to.

Prick McKenzie – Person who bullied Wacky as a kid and is now a Dragon that Wacky must defeat so that he can finally claim Penelope as his property.

Yogurt Kunt – Girl who rejected Wacky and is now just a giant biznatch who Wacky doesn’t like. She wants to pretend she doesn’t love Wacky, even though she obviously does, and only left him because she was intimidated by how great he was.

Towel Master – Wacky’s best friend, who’s always there for him no matter what. Wacky loves TM and always wants to be with him over the company of any other person ever, living or dead. Towel wants to love Wacky, but he can’t feel emotion because he is a towel.

So basically the plot is that they all have to fight and shit in an arena that’s actually in Outer Space. I’ve developed this idea over 82 years, so I know it’s really good. Wacky basically finds out that Prick is cheating in the fight, because he’s a dragon and that’s not allowed. He then beats Prick, and then Penelope tears her clothes off at the very sight of him as the ultimate victor. Then Marco is like oh no and starts to try to get intimate with Penelope Vagina, but Wacky fights him to the death and wins and the Prick, who is a dragon, is now on Wacky’s side. Yogurt tries to defeat Wacky, but Wacky seduces her and then she and Penelope have a threesome while Prick the Dragon watches. Then Towel Master comes and cleans everything up and then they go home and live happily ever after.

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So what do you think? Pretty amazing, right?

Two Legs and a Biscuit, Please

“It’s too hard to form an opinion, so I neglect to.”

“What? That’s an opinion right there.”

“I’m not going to argue.”

 

***

 

Free will is the determination of one’s self. It’s possible to possess it as much as it is possible to lack it. The destination of tomorrow is in the hands of many things, and the individual is only one of those things. To affect a decision that changes the course of one’s life is to sway the river with a twig.

 

***

 

Barbara is lacking in self worth. Her desk is a second home and she’s forgotten what her first looks like. The entirety of her life has been built toward furthering her career. The sports cars, the parties, and the pools were only the symptoms of that same drive that kept her in the office, unable to enjoy them.

Death comes slow for Barb. Some people, he just right up and comes when you least expect it. One moment Bobby is climbing the tree, and the next his blood is spilled from the fall.

Barb knows he’s coming and of course she knows that she can’t do anything about it. Life, however, must mean something, and if she’s built her life around her work, then her work must have meaning.

She won’t be home tonight. Order some chicken.