(This is free writing. It's generally fiction. It's generally nonsensical. If you don't know me, it'll just be weird, and that's fine. I hope you find some entertainment value out of it. If you do know me, please don't read anything into it, because it is nonsensical. Just letting the subconscious fire off random ideas. Again... Fiction.)
(Other note: You need to listen to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKXFX-xXY8c while reading this, because that's what I was listening to when I wrote it.)
I'm trying to talk to you
It's gleaming.
You pulled away, and that hurt
It's cool to the touch. I like that.
You pulled away, angrily, and with some showmanship
I've never used one before.
You're like an only child claiming some moral high ground
There is power in this.
But we know you don't have any justification
There's no turning back.
I only hope you're satisfied with the result
Let's push that on my temple.
I miss the old days, with my old friends
It's still cool, helps the headache.
I hate that you enjoy making me hurt and want to punish me
I'll just punish myself.
So that's that now and I wish you the best
I'll just pull that little trigger.
So here is the goodbye that I give you.
It's not cool anymore.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Free Writing 4
(This is free writing. It's generally fiction. It's generally nonsensical. If you don't know me, it'll just be weird, and that's fine. I hope you find some entertainment value out of it. If you do know me, please don't read anything into it, because it is nonsensical. Just letting the subconscious fire off random ideas. Again... Fiction.)
I'm not sure, but I clicked 'like' because I
Hoped you'd notice. I know five other guys
Did the same, but you should know mine matters
More because mine has special meaning to
Which I hope you figure out. Words are hard
To express, and when I see that you take
The time to respond to my comment I
Get a little giddy. Don't mistake my
Intentions as trying too hard as I
Don't want to scare you away with my hope
For us. It's all because I can't find much
In expression with words, or without words.
I'm not sure, but I clicked 'like' because I
Hoped you'd notice. I know five other guys
Did the same, but you should know mine matters
More because mine has special meaning to
Which I hope you figure out. Words are hard
To express, and when I see that you take
The time to respond to my comment I
Get a little giddy. Don't mistake my
Intentions as trying too hard as I
Don't want to scare you away with my hope
For us. It's all because I can't find much
In expression with words, or without words.
Free Writing 3
(This is free writing. It's generally fiction. It's generally nonsensical. If you don't know me, it'll just be weird, and that's fine. I hope you find some entertainment value out of it. If you do know me, please don't read anything into it, because it is nonsensical. Just letting the subconscious fire off random ideas. Again... Fiction.)
Welcome to my home! You're here, finally.
I'm glad you're here. But we all know the real reason I wanted you here.
Make yourself comfortable. Don't fucking touch anything.
I hope all is well. I know you don't give a shit about me.
Where are my manners? Can I get you a drink? Or maybe my fist?
I've been so busy these past few weeks! Every waking moment with you in my head.
He seems like such a great guy! But we all know he's a cunt.
I'm glad he takes such good care of you. It won't be good enough.
Are you enjoying dinner? Choke on it and die.
How about some dessert? Just let me go and get it.
You better have save some room! Don't look at what's behind my back.
Oh, I'll be careful. It's not too sharp. Don't just love cake?
You need to go? Sit your ass down!
Let me get the door. But I locked it.
Shhhh. Don't scream.
(I'm not gonna lie.... This one was kind of messed up. Sorry.)
Welcome to my home! You're here, finally.
I'm glad you're here. But we all know the real reason I wanted you here.
Make yourself comfortable. Don't fucking touch anything.
I hope all is well. I know you don't give a shit about me.
Where are my manners? Can I get you a drink? Or maybe my fist?
I've been so busy these past few weeks! Every waking moment with you in my head.
He seems like such a great guy! But we all know he's a cunt.
I'm glad he takes such good care of you. It won't be good enough.
Are you enjoying dinner? Choke on it and die.
How about some dessert? Just let me go and get it.
You better have save some room! Don't look at what's behind my back.
Oh, I'll be careful. It's not too sharp. Don't just love cake?
You need to go? Sit your ass down!
Let me get the door. But I locked it.
Shhhh. Don't scream.
(I'm not gonna lie.... This one was kind of messed up. Sorry.)
Free Writing 2
(This is free writing. It's generally fiction. It's generally nonsensical. If you don't know me, it'll just be weird, and that's fine. I hope you find some entertainment value out of it. If you do know me, please don't read anything into it, because it is nonsensical. Just letting the subconscious fire off random ideas. Again... Fiction.)
Where are his shoes? It's infuriating. And disgusting. He has the feet of an orangutan. They even have an inordinate amount of hair on them. And it's like this disgusting train wreck that I can't take my eyes off of because all I see are tons of minute, wiry hairs that twist up together to form this sort of tree-like surface on his toes that reminds of hearing about Jack and the Beanstalk as a child.
Seriously, I'd love for him to put on some shoes. It's not that this lack of shoe-wearing is causing me to go homicidal or anything truly dramatic, but it does make me want to vomit. Repeatedly. The way he walks, as well. The ways toes bend with each step. It drives me insane. I know I shouldn't look, but I can't stop. I have to see because I have to feel this anger that must be justified. It must be justified because look at how disgusting he is.
Those feet. Those monstrosities that should be attached to no human. I feel faint just thinking about them. Perhaps he'll put on some socks. That would be a good compromise. I'd still have to see those annoying steps he takes, but at least the leathery flesh of his awful walking tools would be masked from my sensitive sight, and I wouldn't have to feel as nauseous as I frequently do in his presence.
I often wonder why he walks barefoot in the rocks. It's like he's making a point, but I can't tell what that point is, but he's clearly trying to make it. I mean, look how smug he is. Each step filled with this audacious arrogance like somehow he's doing something that everyone would obviously do if they were given the chance. I think it's disgusting.
Perhaps his feet are just massive calluses by this point. The way he just stomps roughly over sharp edged rocks is disturbing, but he does so without even raising a single cry. Must have the toughest feet in the world. But that's not a point of admiration. You may not be able to tell, but my words are dripping with the most absolute disgust imaginable.
Just find some shoes, please!
Where are his shoes? It's infuriating. And disgusting. He has the feet of an orangutan. They even have an inordinate amount of hair on them. And it's like this disgusting train wreck that I can't take my eyes off of because all I see are tons of minute, wiry hairs that twist up together to form this sort of tree-like surface on his toes that reminds of hearing about Jack and the Beanstalk as a child.
Seriously, I'd love for him to put on some shoes. It's not that this lack of shoe-wearing is causing me to go homicidal or anything truly dramatic, but it does make me want to vomit. Repeatedly. The way he walks, as well. The ways toes bend with each step. It drives me insane. I know I shouldn't look, but I can't stop. I have to see because I have to feel this anger that must be justified. It must be justified because look at how disgusting he is.
Those feet. Those monstrosities that should be attached to no human. I feel faint just thinking about them. Perhaps he'll put on some socks. That would be a good compromise. I'd still have to see those annoying steps he takes, but at least the leathery flesh of his awful walking tools would be masked from my sensitive sight, and I wouldn't have to feel as nauseous as I frequently do in his presence.
I often wonder why he walks barefoot in the rocks. It's like he's making a point, but I can't tell what that point is, but he's clearly trying to make it. I mean, look how smug he is. Each step filled with this audacious arrogance like somehow he's doing something that everyone would obviously do if they were given the chance. I think it's disgusting.
Perhaps his feet are just massive calluses by this point. The way he just stomps roughly over sharp edged rocks is disturbing, but he does so without even raising a single cry. Must have the toughest feet in the world. But that's not a point of admiration. You may not be able to tell, but my words are dripping with the most absolute disgust imaginable.
Just find some shoes, please!
Free Writing 1
(This is free writing. It's generally fiction. It's generally nonsensical. If you don't know me, it'll just be weird, and that's fine. I hope you find some entertainment value out of it. If you do know me, please don't read anything into it, because it is nonsensical. Just letting the subconscious fire off random ideas. Again... Fiction.)
I associate her with the color purple. Not like the movie, or the current societal associations with the color, not that either are wrong or bad. Just the actual color purple. It's weird, because she never wears the color. At least not that I've seen.
The other girl I associate with no color, but I think she'll soon associate me with the concept of disappointment. It happens, but I have no other way to describe the kind of result that I'm going to give.
I'm staring right now at this image of Purple. She's smiling. Where I got this picture, I don't know. But it's a pleasant one. An innocent one. It makes me laugh because I know somewhere in that picture, beneath her smile, there's a joke that's been told that she enjoyed. See, I've gotten to the point where I can tell her smiles apart; she has one that is a residual laugh from a recent joke (like in the picture), one for when she is hiding her vulnerability (which she does often because she hates being vulnerable), one that signifies disdain, but in an appreciable way, and my favorite, her natural smile, which is when something makes her genuinely happy. I strive for the latter, but usually get Residual Laugh and Disdain.
Disappointment looks at me expectantly. But I've already failed her. Purple looks at me with no expectations, though there is also a shield up that confuses me, which I think is calculated and the point. The substance of their glances, and there seems to be a great deal of substance to each glance, is thick and filled with unspoken subtext. But the substance is too thick usually, and the subtext is lost in the foggy plastic substance of their constant looks.
Purple avoids me frequently. Not at the beginning of any meeting. But she quickly leaves towards the end. I think I'm now associating the color orange with her. No reason. Just like there was no reason for Purple. She wears neither color.
Disappointment has now changed moods. Sorrow. But I can't tell if she's feeling sorry for herself... Or for me.
I associate her with the color purple. Not like the movie, or the current societal associations with the color, not that either are wrong or bad. Just the actual color purple. It's weird, because she never wears the color. At least not that I've seen.
The other girl I associate with no color, but I think she'll soon associate me with the concept of disappointment. It happens, but I have no other way to describe the kind of result that I'm going to give.
I'm staring right now at this image of Purple. She's smiling. Where I got this picture, I don't know. But it's a pleasant one. An innocent one. It makes me laugh because I know somewhere in that picture, beneath her smile, there's a joke that's been told that she enjoyed. See, I've gotten to the point where I can tell her smiles apart; she has one that is a residual laugh from a recent joke (like in the picture), one for when she is hiding her vulnerability (which she does often because she hates being vulnerable), one that signifies disdain, but in an appreciable way, and my favorite, her natural smile, which is when something makes her genuinely happy. I strive for the latter, but usually get Residual Laugh and Disdain.
Disappointment looks at me expectantly. But I've already failed her. Purple looks at me with no expectations, though there is also a shield up that confuses me, which I think is calculated and the point. The substance of their glances, and there seems to be a great deal of substance to each glance, is thick and filled with unspoken subtext. But the substance is too thick usually, and the subtext is lost in the foggy plastic substance of their constant looks.
Purple avoids me frequently. Not at the beginning of any meeting. But she quickly leaves towards the end. I think I'm now associating the color orange with her. No reason. Just like there was no reason for Purple. She wears neither color.
Disappointment has now changed moods. Sorrow. But I can't tell if she's feeling sorry for herself... Or for me.
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