Summer Blues

Jul 27, 20139 min read

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Published: Jul 27, 2013

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Personal

So I've been writing all these radio scripts and yesterday I got to record one. Neato. I slammed out a piece on L. Frank Baum that Doc loved - thought it was my best, though I still prefer the Serling - and he wanted my voice on the radio for it. I read it three or four times before they got a recording they liked and they'll match it up to the music and stuff later and ta-da!

My toothache is allllmost gone. If I hit it wrong when eating it'll hurt, and it's super sensitive to cold now, but those pitfalls are mostly avoidable. But anxiety has risen to take it's place - late summer is the worst for me. Time crawls by so slowly. I don't have much reason to leave the house, and I spend when I'm out and about anyway, so I end up kinda trapped in here and it just builds. Much as I appreciate the break, I'm usually relatively happy for classes to start again. If nothing else, it keeps me busy. Late summer is also when my creativity is at its lowest point - I just don't write very much in the summer

The downtime has been occupied by reading (some of the books Doc gave me, and newspaper comic strip anthologies at the moment) and watching Netflix (Phineas and Ferb, sometimes Ouran High School Host Club). I also finished the book for toxic-nebulae (who needs to send me an address!). The embellishments on that one are much simpler than the other two, but I think it's much prettier. But that might be my love of purple talking.

I am seriously considering making these books on point commissions as a few people have expressed interest. I'd be looking at a price range of 800 - 1200 points ($10 - $15). Just let me know in the comments if you're interested, or shoot me a note

Around dA

psithurisms (whose name took me many tries to learn to spell) is this week's Saturday Spotlight!

I am looking for thoughts and opinions on this, please and thank you. Also, I noticed in the poll that the "you should just offer to put your knowledge to work to spice up my profile for me" option was popular - just drop me a note if you were serious about that and I'll see what I can do

betwixtthepages is holding a DLD Suggestion Contest in a few days.

LadyLincoln is holding a self-improvement contest!

Written in the Stars Contest

FuzzyHoser is holding a contest!

Adopt-A-Writer is still looking for mentors.

Devil's in the Details Competition.

skinnywords is holding a contest.

the-haiku-club is hosting a HaikuWriMo this August.

Speaking of, Nichrysalis has started a new group, Multhaiku, for genre-based haiku.

Features!

Shallow WaterIt was just a little kiddie pool in the backyard, unlovely pink-and-yellow plastic under the hot summer sun. But on those nights when Mom came home from the swing shift tired and met Daddy sitting in the kitchen angry, it was Amy’s only sanctuary.
She wasn’t a sound sleeper. Her parents still talked about how it had taken her infant self six months to sleep more than two or three hours at a time. During the school year, when her life was full of classes and friends and sports, it was easier to drop off, but summer nights were always more difficult. They were hotter, for one thing, and the long, indolent, inactive days often left her feeling too tired to sleep.
But mostly, it was because her parents had their arguments at night, right when Mom got back from the station. Daddy would send Amy to bed -- or at least her room, to pretend to sleep -- hours before. Then he would wait, sitting at the kitchen table and facing the door like a judge, hands folded in front of him Clichedoes your poetry consist of
feelings nestled in ribcages
silent cries inside of a marrow
and the dull thunk of your heart
against my barely beating bones?
or is your poetry nestled in galaxies
shooting across well-kept fingertips
like comets lighting a dull sky
stardust of my hip bone wishes
literature universe coming to an end?
can your poetry play imagination
like a clever twist in a dream
where you kiss my shadows away
and teach me how to caress you
with love that burns passion away?
oh dear
are you smitten enough to
run away with me
or are you yet to be blanketed
by these heavy arms of mine?
do my words weigh you down?
i havent met one so easily drowned
by the vast sea of my sunkissed letters
but as your velvet lips whispered,
always is there a first. filename: humanity.exeif you:
1. have cared about something that someone told you wasn't important
go to 2;
else
go to 3;
2. believe in love
go to 4;
else
go to 5;
3. have wanted to make your life mean something
go to 6;
else
go to 7;
4. believe in something that should be impossible
go to 8;
else
go to 9;
5. believe in art
go to 9;
else
go to 10;
6. believe you are the only one like yourself
go to 11;
else
go to 14;
7. have been hurt or disappointed
go to 20;
else
go to 21;
8. are a dreamer
&
PhysicsYou always loved your calculations.
"It is positively evident," you declared, "that the universe is made of minuscular, vibrating strings."
So, E's, and A's, D's, and G's whirring about inconspicuously are what create the framework of those chocolate eyes?
I never could quite comprehend everything.
When I six, and going through that obnoxious stage where kids need constant self-assurance, I asked you if we'd be friends forever. I remember we were making paper handcuff chains. We were playing Pretend Prisoners.
You took your fresh, safety-scissors quality-cut strip of paper and folded it and taped it. It looked like a halo.
You pushed it across the craft table towards me.
Perplexed, maybe it was my frown that cued you to translate your logic.
"It's a Möbius Strip," you claimed. "If we were as small as ants, and walked along it forever, we walk both sides without touching any boundaries. That is our friendship."
One day, we were eating Chinese takeout together at one of your messy g :thumb387714685: :thumb386756312:
:thumb343580492: Antagonist.I have forsaken poetry
because it is beautiful
and that is the
last thing that I feel.
And I feel like I am
living in a horrific prose
where my lover has become the
antagonist. danteI think when Somebody was making me he mistook my breath for smoke and now
every word I speak is laced with fire and
when I sigh, the air filters out of me in a whirl of flames and ash.
and when I smile the sparks dance along my lips as if
perhaps my promises lead straight to hell;
oh, you will be the undeath of me.

© 2013 - 2024 SilverInkblot

Comments13

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boy have i missed going through your journals and features

will get to fixing that, stat! <3