It’s important to find friends. It’s a great way to avoid feeling awkward. It took me three years. “What’s your name?” I asked several days in a row. His answer undoubtably, was always, “Trevor” We certainly weren’t friends. But that “awkward” feeling wasn’t going away on its own despite all my efforts. Seven years of school and...
“She’s so pretty” he thought, “that people probably send her anonymous fanmail over tumblr. Yeah, that’s how pretty she is…”
I was born when you kissed me. I died when you left me. I lived a few weeks...– Humphrey Bogart
Yvonne: Where were you last night?
Rick: That's so long ago, I don't remember.
Yvonne: Will I see you tonight?
Rick: I never make plans that far ahead.
She’s beautiful. Not, “she’s beautiful like…” she’s beautiful on her own and without analogy. No, the sky was beautiful in the way she was and certainly not the other way around. It would be to compliment the scenery. But when we were together there was always this need to define her. At times she was “beautiful like a rose” and one day she was...
Crawl space: It’s a place to hide. It’s small and dark but not too stuffy. When you go there no one bothers you, and for a minute, you’re problems seems to go away just long enough for you to build up the courage to face them once again. Except, he lived in a crawl space, and it became the place where his trouble built like water on the kettle. He no longer lived in a...
“No I won’t dissapoint you” he said. “but you won’t have my smile so look at pictures. Well I won’t be around. If you need my advice do what you should, when it’s wrong.” and he started to tear up “cause it’s hard. I know. That’s why you’d ask. If you need a hug use your pilllow When you feel lonely buy a dog. You know...
eatsleepmoresleep: She’s really pretty. It doesn’t matter who Or why. The “really” needs no specification no proportion Simplify the sentence? She is.
It’s hard to sit and say “I’ll now write something beautiful” it doesn’t work that way. That way, it comes off more often than not as a poor rehash. It’s difficult when “Now I’ll cry” is our only motive or “this time, I really mean it” when we never have. It’s likely we never will. We won’t mean it by stating it’s...
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, maybe’s wrong. But if then, I admit to being wrong, am I, wrong about being (maybe) wrong or simply wrong in its purest, simplest form? One thing is correct: the plot has been overthought.
She loved like a child wanting to sweep the floor or Honk Beep turn Vroom across the world. She loved as a boy wanting to go to war. But, I suppose, that was the difference. Her love was war. The streets seemed to picket her only cause though there were no crowd control. Her love was, just in that way: far before our brothers saw blood flood a vivid color along the dark as mud took...
Whoever told you love at first sight didn’t exist? You choose who you love and, at great risk.
I have a very lovely date with a book at a coffee shop. She’ll be wearing red. I’ll gaze deeply into her eyes and listen. Isn’t that what dating is all about? Sure, I might stop from time to time to write down a few notes, but for the most part I’ll be listening. She knows so much. She thinks about what she says, and the things she brings me to…wow.
Don’t let anyone “discover” you. you were already beautiful before they came along. What they have, you give. If he makes you smile when otherwise you wouldn’t and then you shine, You’ll know: it comes from both.
To be a drunkard drink. and slowly, very slowly, sink. Be self destructive: over think. Dig a hole and let the light dimly shine: not to be, with more than knives, less to- stave with razorblades. No, not to scratch or even itch. But you dig.
What if I wake up as someone else? What if, I just keep on waking up as a different person and I don’t ever know who I am? This, was a childhood fear of mine, along with what might come out and bite from the dark. Now, I’m not afraid, and I wake up as someone else on a daily basis.
Metaphors are like…never mind. Similes are…okay, forget this one too.
My parents wanted to be missionaries, but that didn’t really work out. Instead, they sided getting involved with another culture from the area they were already in, which happened to be Southern California at the time. So, they found their place at a Christian Filipino church an hours drive from home. This was, respectively, around the time I was born. I was about the age most kids throw...
“We all hope you enjoy your stay here Mr. Bird. We mean you no harm while you are with us. Might I recommend a warm bath?” “No, thank you. I just want to rest.” “It’s not often we get visitors most of them go…other places.” “Oh, I’m sure.” I retorted, “Well what do you mean?” “It just doesn’t seem like...
Personal writing rules: 1) Get past the word love. Love is a junk dour term for a lot of different feelings. The reason it’s so accepted is in the fact that it’s vague. Write about love, just, don’t let that vague word linger out in the open. It’s come to the point where it’s difficult for the word to contribute anything to the story or meaning. 2) Don’t...
Two and two
“She is” or “He ran” it’s really quite simple. The door is wide open. He liked walking across the sidewalk at a pace, so slow his body would lean towards each step. His feet, angry from their lack of rest, stopped feeling things. They kept on moving, step after step until the eyes would roll across a quite alleyway. The legs would crack out of place and the back...
strawberrypiesforbreakfast asked: "It certainly wouldn’t help if you were just like the rest of the girls." Define 'the rest of the girls' for me.
No new neighbors
Some coffin wheezing grandma took one look at my tombstone; no doubt, if she still had eyes in her socket, they’d roll right out. “Hey, boys,” She retorted, “check out the new guy.” Though, she’s just jealous, cause she lost her face. Retirement homes have their own arthritis bitten forms of initiation. “Well…you’re only sixty. Be thankful you can still eat pudding.” “I hope you choke on...
Go away. Don’t come back. You are one dangerous lady who can get a guy like me into a lot of trouble. Everyone knows you’re taken. When they catch you with me, well, you know what they’ll do. You’re hot, you’re sexy and you grab men, and you pull them into your dark alleyways. Wow, do you have hips…and those red lips. Don’t let a guy like me take...
She loved a story that didn’t end happy He happened to be working one or two. Oh, that’s how stories always go. She happened to enjoy raunchy scenes. Isn’t that all they’d asked for? It’s a fiction brew, played by two. Mixed with this, a false little that, The story gets better (or worse) The fiction brew, takes the two, and mixes in a little truth.
Call it something,h to be more specific. He could draw, or live one. Yesterday a picture, today’s a song. What comes next, it’s beauty Look! Listen… feel how it’s empty.
“Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said. ...– Ernest Hemingway
Never anticipate failure, not in anyone else. Because, then, you’ll be next. Even if it’s just in your own head. Ignore the worst. Avoid titles and entitlement. Don’t mistake success for meaning. Die late and love as long as you can. Live your life in first person, maybe second, but never in third. Walk to think. Read to breath.
The greatest questions Have conclusions Yet, no answer
The writer found himself continually agitated by the amount of prose he found that were written only in first person. It didn’t take long for him to realize this disinterest. But what could the poor soul do, when all he did was the same?
The best ideas repeat themselves. Why put in what they can already imagine?
It’s quite like a blanket. You block out the light. Hard to breath, though, in many ways, still nice A thumb in my mouth Silly, this feeling, wrapped in my other arm. But, No not out of place My favorite blanket’s a coat. Yes, much like an adult. Love often comes, in separate clothing.
It’s human. People feel small. It’s not just in their size. She walks by, but there’s never a lapse in time. She’d gaze across the room late at night until her eyes slowly gave way under a strange, heavy weight. Before anyone knew her name, it was simple. Those letters and phrases opened as flowers. Give time a moment; it will take ten years. Ten years can do a lot, more...
Ideas are like _________ they only come when you __________ and sometimes it takes _________ to fill in the _________
I love you like chilli fries I’d eat you three days old You’re like a milkshake that always stays cold I’d stop making food references This time it’s serious I’d give up fast fast food Love me (and feed me, too) And I’d die of cholesterol for you.
It’s dangerous business buying a book the week before finals.