When I had my ‘DROP IT LIKE F SCOTT’ balloons for our Roaring Twenties NYE party this wasn’t really what I had in mind but you have to play the hand you’re dealt, I guess.
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@jonathankeeley
When I had my ‘DROP IT LIKE F SCOTT’ balloons for our Roaring Twenties NYE party this wasn’t really what I had in mind but you have to play the hand you’re dealt, I guess.
little stranger
we stood there on the dock, the waves coming in slow
the most familiar feeling, but you, I’d hardly known
your red hair looked like a campfire
dancing on your head
while your words warmed me deeply
as you frowned at me and said
“there’s no fish in this lake, I wanna go inside”
I laughed as we sat there, smiled and replied
“I was just like you when my grandpa took me to this dock
give it 10 more minutes, if there’s no bites, then we’ll stop”
you grabbed my hand and sat down, feet over the side
gave me your pink fishing pole, little eyes opened wide
looking for the fish, but it was too dark to see down there
leaned against my side, as the springtime breeze cooled the air
it didn’t seem so long ago, I was here with someone else
and he smiled like I smiled at you, while we fished by ourselves
he taught me to be patient and he taught me to live slow
while all I might’ve taught you, was that the fish don’t always show
after that, we went back in the house and said our quick goodbyes
I ruffled the fire on your head as you hugged around my side
kind of like I did when I let my grandpa go,
but I didn’t think this would be the last time, I’d see you again
though
as quickly as you came in my life
that’s as quickly you both went out
it’s all the same anyway, that’s how family things go about
but I’ll never forget that little smile and your little dig
when I lied and said, “I think we’ve got one, and it’s pretty big”
you said “Johnny it’s been 10 minutes and we haven’t caught a fish,
I’m getting really cold and I think you’re pretty bad at this”
I wish he could teach me again so then we’d actually catch a few
but he’s gone away, and now so have you
sometimes people die, and sometimes people’s parents get divorced
now you’re just a little stranger, who I fished with once before
The vast sprawl of suburbs and satellite towns around Paris, disdained by some as a breeding ground for crime and terrorism, is home to the greatest pool of soccer talent in Europe.
read july 10th
“He knows that the verdict of history is about to come down on him — and bury him.”
read july 10th
not one, not two
what do you think she looks like sitting out on the edge of a dock
as the sun is just beginning to creep down below the trees on the other side of the shore?
light washes just the right side her face as she looks up from dangling her toes in the water
seeing her through the fire pit you're warming yourself by
it crackles and grows, the flames in front of you dance around her messy hair in the distance
the loons coo & the waves slosh against the beach
her feet rise above the water & she begins to float towards you above the tide until she’s above the fire the tallest embers flicker at her feet she leans down and slowly runs her hand down your cheek “i wished you loved yourself when you met me”
I think she feels like when the sun has gone down and the fire is minutes from dying and me alone
for english 200
I have given
the password
of your Netflix account
to Jimmy
and which
is why you
probably
couldn’t stream
Forgive me
he really wanted
to finish
50 First Dates
for english 200
The canvas matched his face, blank and empty, with nothing to show or tell. The little boy sat crosslegged in front of his easel by the window in quiet reflection. He was instructed to paint a sunflower which rested in a glass vase in the front of the classroom. Miss Bell, the substitute teacher for the day, thought it would be a fun exercise to allow the more quiet and introverted students to explore their creative side after a fight involving their more rambunctious classmates broke out during recess. “Brian it’s been 15 minutes and you haven’t started painting,” she said to the little boy. “What are you thinking about?” Brian didn’t avert his eyes from the window and quietly whispered almost to himself, “I don’t like paintbrushes Miss Bell.” She looked at Brian’s tiny hands and smiled warmly. “I’ll get you some crayons.” Miss Bell waltzed over to the drawers, haphazardly overstuffed with crayons, pastels and chalk and grabbed a handful. She was young and idealistic, pleased to have an opportunity to connect a little more with a quiet student. “Here you go Brain” she said as she dropped the bundle of colors in his lap. When she glanced up from the book she was reading from her desk, she noticed Brian’s canvas was still blank. “Brian” she exclaimed. “What’s wrong, why haven’t you started?” Brain kept fix to his gaze outside and replied a little louder now, “I don’t like paintbrushes Miss Bell.” She looked down at this tiny hands and lap and saw around 20 paintbrushes. “Brain,” she asked nervously. “Where did you get all those paintbrushes?” His hands closed into tiny fists and his body started shaking uncontrollably. “Miss Bell,” he yelled, now getting the attention of the entire class. “I don’t like paintbrushes.” Brain’s face turned a brilliant crimson like it had been burnt by the pitchfork of the devil himself. He opened his mouth as if to yell but instead like a machine gun, paintbrushes flew out of his mouth, flying at the canvas and Miss Bell’s terrified face, the tips of the brush wet with dark shade of liquid burgundy. Miss Bell tried to cover her face but the force of the brushes was too much and she fell over in a puddle of dark red paint. After a few second she parted her fingers to see Brian’s canvas laying battered on the ground, with the red painted silhouette of a sunflower dripping slowly onto the cold tile floor.
north ave
it was like a single wave lapping the shore of north ave beach on a humid chicago night the atmosphere filled with explosions and lights, a dizzying display of color up in the sky reflecting back down in a single wave kissing the sand below the city swallowed all feelings whole on the 4th that night and for a few more after until the show ended and the sun didn't come up the next morning, leaving the air filled with a smokey haze, awkward remnants mixed with what happened before & questions of what happens next and the wave retreated back into the lake as quickly as it came but even for just a few moments, it all seemed new and exciting one summer in the city
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Writing Advice: by Chuck Palahniuk In six seconds, you’ll hate me. But in six months, you’ll be a better writer. From this point forward—at least for the next half year—you may not use “thought” verbs. These include: Thinks, Knows, Understands, Realizes, Believes, Wants, Remembers, Imagines, Desires, and a hundred others you love to use. The list should also include: Loves and Hates. And it should include: Is and Has, but we’ll get to those later. Until some time around Christmas, you can’t write: Kenny wondered if Monica didn’t like him going out at night…” Instead, you’ll have to Un-pack that to something like: “The mornings after Kenny had stayed out, beyond the last bus, until he’d had to bum a ride or pay for a cab and got home to find Monica faking sleep, faking because she never slept that quiet, those mornings, she’d only put her own cup of coffee in the microwave. Never his.” Instead of characters knowing anything, you must now present the details that allow the reader to know them. Instead of a character wanting something, you must now describe the thing so that the reader wants it. Instead of saying: “Adam knew Gwen liked him.” You’ll have to say: “Between classes, Gwen had always leaned on his locker when he’d go to open it. She’s roll her eyes and shove off with one foot, leaving a black-heel mark on the painted metal, but she also left the smell of her perfume. The combination lock would still be warm from her butt. And the next break, Gwen would be leaned there, again.” In short, no more short-cuts. Only specific sensory detail: action, smell, taste, sound, and feeling. Typically, writers use these “thought” verbs at the beginning of a paragraph (In this form, you can call them “Thesis Statements” and I’ll rail against those, later). In a way, they state the intention of the paragraph. And what follows, illustrates them. For example: “Brenda knew she’d never make the deadline. was backed up from the bridge, past the first eight or nine exits. Her cell phone battery was dead. At home, the dogs would need to go out, or there would be a mess to clean up. Plus, she’d promised to water the plants for her neighbor…” Do you see how the opening “thesis statement” steals the thunder of what follows? Don’t do it. If nothing else, cut the opening sentence and place it after all the others. Better yet, transplant it and change it to: Brenda would never make the deadline. Thinking is abstract. Knowing and believing are intangible. Your story will always be stronger if you just show the physical actions and details of your characters and allow your reader to do the thinking and knowing. And loving and hating. Don’t tell your reader: “Lisa hated Tom.” Instead, make your case like a lawyer in court, detail by detail. Present each piece of evidence. For example: “During roll call, in the breath after the teacher said Tom’s name, in that moment before he could answer, right then, Lisa would whisper-shout ‘Butt Wipe,’ just as Tom was saying, ‘Here’.” One of the most-common mistakes that beginning writers make is leaving their characters alone. Writing, you may be alone. Reading, your audience may be alone. But your character should spend very, very little time alone. Because a solitary character starts thinking or worrying or wondering. For example: Waiting for the bus, Mark started to worry about how long the trip would take…” A better break-down might be: “The schedule said the bus would come by at noon, but Mark’s watch said it was already 11:57. You could see all the way down the road, as far as the Mall, and not see a bus. No doubt, the driver was parked at the turn-around, the far end of the line, taking a nap. The driver was kicked back, asleep, and Mark was going to be late. Or worse, the driver was drinking, and he’d pull up drunk and charge Mark seventy-five cents for death in a fiery traffic accident…” A character alone must lapse into fantasy or memory, but even then you can’t use “thought” verbs or any of their abstract relatives. Oh, and you can just forget about using the verbs forget and remember. No more transitions such as: “Wanda remembered how Nelson used to brush her hair.” Instead: “Back in their sophomore year, Nelson used to brush her hair with smooth, long strokes of his hand.” Again, Un-pack. Don’t take short-cuts. Better yet, get your character with another character, fast. Get them together and get the action started. Let their actions and words show their thoughts. You—stay out of their heads. And while you’re avoiding “thought” verbs, be very wary about using the bland verbs “is” and “have.” For example: “Ann’s eyes are blue.” “Ann has blue eyes.” Versus: “Ann coughed and waved one hand past her face, clearing the cigarette smoke from her eyes, blue eyes, before she smiled…” Instead of bland “is” and “has” statements, try burying your details of what a character has or is, in actions or gestures. At its most basic, this is showing your story instead of telling it. And forever after, once you’ve learned to Un-pack your characters, you’ll hate the lazy writer who settles for: “Jim sat beside the telephone, wondering why Amanda didn’t call.” Please. For now, hate me all you want, but don’t use thought verbs. After Christmas, go crazy, but I’d bet money you won’t. (…) For this month’s homework, pick through your writing and circle every “thought” verb. Then, find some way to eliminate it. Kill it by Un-packing it. Then, pick through some published fiction and do the same thing. Be ruthless. “Marty imagined fish, jumping in the moonlight…” “Nancy recalled the way the wine tasted…” “Larry knew he was a dead man…” Find them. After that, find a way to re-write them. Make them stronger.
(via 1000wordseveryday)
i dreamt last night that i was told i had a sister. Her face was the same as this girl who i work and have class with. when i saw her in this dream she was completely naked and had small tattoos all over her body. she looked tired timid and worn but she let me give her a hug and i felt the deepest kind of love. like something i've never felt before. when i woke up, the random lines from a third eye blind song kept on repeating in my head “why can’t you be, the part of me thats missing” and it was crazy heavy for just waking up and also realizing i had a lot of stuff to do. later that day in class we were doing a reporting assignment in the union and while i was looking for someone to interview the actual girl who the girl in my dream looked just like walked around the corner, smiled and waved at me. i said how's it going and she gave me an answer longer than i could hear while still walking in the other direction. i wasn’t really listening either i just kept thinking about my dream and of her. my mom had a miscarriage in-between my brother and i. it was a girl and she was supposed to be named Sarah.i thought about her a lot as a kid but she hadn’t crossed my mind in the longest time.
Nicholas Roerich - A stranger
Polaroid by Andrei Tarkovsky from the book Instant Light: Tarkovsky Polaroids
Also
guethary, france – 1975 de john witzig
via this isn’t happiness
#NowPlaying Somebody Else by The 1975