YOU HAS FORGET?

There is a competition and a drawing of matches. He gets the short and takes his place atop the shaky wooden bridge. He knows what he now faces and his eyes water until red and dry. It comes with a burp of air pressure and is nothing like what's expected. The air shimmers and rolls over the arena. This is the finality. He sees it lean toward him, all mottle-skinned and asp-like, and his fears leave him in the final second. He is swallowed in purity. It leaves him convulsing and screaming, raw animal yelps and deep sucking pants. The finality departs and the sun sets.
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More examples of how I don't include many details and description in my writing. I live too much in my head to successfully transfer the imagery to pen and paper, and a lot of times I can't express what I experience in my mind because I'm untrained at conveying emotion. Or I haven't tried enough. I like writing tiny things for myself, which imply entire worlds. Most of my writing is a stepping stone that allows me to experience the events in my head. I am my characters because there's no way they could exist otherwise because I'm all that there is. My universe is myself and my interactions with other universes.


Her anger comes on too strong and she doesn't let up. The cupboards are rattling at the stiletto of her pace. She rumbles back and forth across the lofty kitchen. The cats are curled in their window perching, flicking ears at every footfall.
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Well I thought about continuing that, because I've got another page or two in my journal, but it is mostly bad. Some of the phrases in the first paragraph are cute, so I'll share that. It's a fascinating trip to read back through my journal, because I find tiny gems. Tiny as in maybe a sentence or two. I like writing one-liners (see above, stepping stones).

"A great pleasure that is, being renowned for what one does for a living." -- This was a dialogue line that squeaked into my head one morning, probably in January. It had something to do with an older writer man, mostly cynical and dry witted. He was probably talking to a younger person when he said this. Maybe a reporter, or aspiring writer. Something along that feeling. Well, this is about the end.

CRUISE CONTROL

She slept and next remembered perching on a cloud, staring down blindly at the city below. She felt the presence of another beside her but her senses did not encompass it and so there was a blank spot in her mind. She saw the city waking, and at the same time was in the city, riding through morning traffic in a duality only possible in dreams. Images of cars melded with the tiny cumulus clouds that dotted the early sky. She reached out to one of the car/clouds and saw a tiny vial of liquid in the grasp of her fingers. The presence that wasn't beside her pushed her arm down and away from the tiny puff of air; "We do not touch the children."
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This is an important part of the Beth/clouds story, but I haven't yet figured out why. I do know, however, that I'm leaning more towards YA for this story (or at least, my idea of YA). It's become clear to me now that Anthony is involved with this whole mess somehow more than just being her brother, and I'm working towards making the mother less outright villainous. Which is hard, because it's easy to keep her a bitch. I'm fairly certain Anthony isn't her biological son though. Baby steps.

I love the idea of creating a seamless mythology of creatures/ideas/etc. I sorta did that with the clouds and the shadows, but I'm holding back on publishing anything until things straighten out. It's just so much fun. You should give it a try.

With the sudden onset of summer I'll be reading a shit ton more, and that's exciting. I still have a bundle of Banks books to read from my last BN run, and I've got a cool book about modern German culture that I'm sloughing through. Also recently I checked out this cool book Darwin Among the Machines: The Evolution of Global Intelligence, because free time = I get obsessed with post/transhumanism all over again. I wait for the day there's a philosophy class about this, because it's happening now and it's going to change everything. I'm excited.

End of the semester stress has shortened my temper drastically, and tiny things are pissing me off a lot more recently. I don't like losing my temper, at least around other people, so it hasn't caused any issues. Besides, I'm totally ADD when it comes to grudges and hating people. Someone told me once (possibly middle school), "it takes too much effort to hate," and I guess that's my personal motto. I'm glad that I came out the other side of puberty a nice person. Humanity is wonderful and if I ever start sinking I just remind myself how fucking awesome it is that I'm alive and able to accomplish so much. Optimistic sap, mwhahaha. I'm excited to live and I'm excited to die (eventually haha). I don't plan on giving in.

MOOT POINT

I have just made cupcakes. They are delicious. I added some honey to the cake mix because at the party there will be no icing. I am of the opinion there needs be none. Tomorrow's party is the last meeting of the Tea Empire, our "Mad Hatter" tea party, where we will wear crazy hats, eat delicious food, and drink a shit ton of tea. I'm so excited.

I don't know what I plan to accomplish with this blog, but I grow weary with LJ sometimes, namely because I don't bitch at all over there, and my bitchiness needs an outlet. And by bitchiness I mean talking about myself. Maybe I will post more of my story stuff. Maybe not. This could end up being a nice outlet for all of the writerly instincts I may develop over the summer. I will try not to be too silly. I can guarantee nothing.