First Things First
Come check out #TheTitlePage! You may recall the article I posted a week ago - now there's a group for the idea! Come join and submit your title poetry
Also; seriously, 3500 pageviews in one day? Holy crap guys.
"You'll become a recluse. Have a bunch of cats, never answer any phone calls. And I'll be able to go, 'hey, yeah, I know her! We go WAY back! How much do you want for her phone number?'"
My favorite Doctor on my future as a grumpy author who hates everything.
Well, most of my life can be summed up by this piece. I've been staying at school late again to get more work done, and some days I end up chatting for two hours And I don't know how we got on to the topic, but Minnick somehow managed to talk me into listening to an entire Springsteen album, and it amuses me to no end that he actually got me to do it.
I can't stop listening to this song.
I've been helping Minnick with some radio scripts and I finished my first one this Friday; it turned out better than I thought it would. I'm working on a second one now and will probably end up recording it myself in the future. Apparently, I'm racking up resume credits on this project as well because my name will end up on at least half of these at this rate.
I've also been editing a story of his one chapter at a time; I just read the latest chapter today and couldn't wait all weekend to tell him how much I loved it
Perhaps I hoped to find Ms. Clay buried under all of that paper and had she been, such an ending for an English teacher and part-time newspaper reporter might well have been fitting. Or, perhaps I would have had to sift through reams of paper and at the bottom of it all, poetically, I would find a paperweight.
I really like this story
In other news, I'm nearly done with my Fiction II imitation assignment, but have barely touched the essay for Count Zero. Got a bunch of reading I really need to do as well, and I don't mean #Elocutionists readings.
Though speaking of, these latest readings, Affannato and Chemical Attractions, Part I both turned out very well
DLD SUGGESTIONS ARE APPRECIATED.
This week's Saturday Spotlight interviewee was ~linaket!
~Solarune has an ongoing poll poem, an idea I really need to steal.
Project Edit - someone remind me to get on the ball with this one.
The Unexpected Love Contest - perhaps I can talk Autumn and Lawrence into coming out to play for a while
Typography Haiku Contest!
=DailyLitDeviations Colors Contest is still open until the end of the month and I really need to write up an entry.
Finally, I mentioned #TheTitlePage at the very top, but here it is again with some extra information. I've recently come into some Points, so I feel comfortable with going ahead and planning a contest with this idea. It's not many Points, so donations would be totally awesome and all, but, yeah. I'd love to see more people signing up over there I'll likely be spending a lot of time there after all.
Frozen.His warm body is
working to rid my heart of
its permafrost shell.
i just wanted to make you something beautifulyour goodbye
tasted like cold
rather bitter, really
kind of poetic--&
a bit absurd
around your bedroom
(hitting my shin
on the nightstand)
a goose dabbing
its beak in
a little less than
& every law of thermodynamics
old and time-weathered soul.Emily liked to imagine that she was from a different time.
She’d sit on her bed and smooth out the covers, fold the sheets with crisp lines and perfect, symmetrical shapes. She’d place the chipped tea cup on the bookshelf and push back the linen curtains. But she would never open her eyes. No, you see, because if she did, she would have to see the traffic that buzzed like summer bees below her and the water stain dripping down the side of her window. She’d have to admit that outside, reality was not what she wished, and, frankly, she wasn’t ready to stop pretending.
So, instead, she closed her eyes and pressed her fo
Click-clack of nostalgia
from bones to paper.
Perfect SundayYou have fallen asleep, somehow, face-down. A freckled cheek and hair curling around your ears is all that is visible between the pillows. I lie, nestled against the curve of your body, my head pillowed on your arm, a much-loved book open on the duvet before me. It is raining outside, and the steady thrum of the rain blends with the soft sound of your breathing and the even softer beat of your heart, a muted cacophony of weather and dreaming.
Little Bits of Nothing 4I have 206 bones in my body
And yet you chose to break my heart.
Black CatDainty little feet
softly trod across the floor
black as their bad luck.
Hands.Maybe the reason why I didn't hold on to your hand
was because I knew that as soon as I did,
everything would be real, I would start to fall for you,
because holding onto someone's hand is like begging
someone to take your heart and I just wasn't ready
to be broken again.
The backs of my handsI yearn to paint words on the backs of my hands; be a girl who grasps the world with my cupped stories, skin-warmed and soft and hoping to be held and learned and mapped and memorized and loved.
I yearn for my palms to be blank pages, ready and open and willing to touch every person, every surface, and absorb all kinds of imprints and let their sentences kiss the lines, seep into the cracks and sink through to my veins.
I yearn to give and be given, for my spun tales to take flight from my fingers, and for memoirs to bury themselves deep into my blood and bones, until I can smell nothing but old paper and taste only ink and consonants and
calamity.the poor boy got a lecture from deaths secretary
"deaths busy enough as it is without walk ins"
"but it was urgent," he stutters.
"it couldn't wait, it was now or never"
he was simply told
"take a number, and wait over there with the rest
who 'couldn't wait' "
cyanidehaving tasted the last
of it, almond-sweet
over the cautious lift
of tongue, her body depetals;
the floor receives her silk.
It's weird to browse for literature and find one of your own pieces in the Recently Popular section. It's also weird to see the lit. tag you use on a piece you certainly don't recall writing
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