I've wanted to write about it for a long time, but the words just won't come. Hence, a link.
Art helps. Family drama makes it worse. Watching a community you used to participate in, like someone in the nosebleed seats, well... It actually helps, to know that the story goes on. I miss you all.
Let's hope the New Year holds great things.
Art helps. Family drama makes it worse. Watching a community you used to participate in, like someone in the nosebleed seats, well... It actually helps, to know that the story goes on. I miss you all.
Let's hope the New Year holds great things.
- pulse:
amused
"All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." ~Samuel Beckett"
"Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there."
~ Henry Miller, Sexus
Writing exercise from Inkpunks.
Part One:
Write a paragraph of narrative, 100-150 words, in sentences of seven or fewer words. No sentence fragments! Each word must have a subject and a verb.
Part Two:
Write a half-page to a page of narrative, up to 350 words, which is all one sentence.
(Original fic, Captain Wednesday, Sea of Dust)
She woke to the sound of shouting. The ship was listing, the world tilted. In a breath, she was moving. Barefoot, she was on deck in a heartbeat. Her firstmate pointed. The veil parted on the beast's back. It was magnificent, broad and grey. She thought she was looking at land. No, it could never be so simple. Land didn't surge and roll. Land didn't roar and make the ship shudder. The leviathan was directly beneath them. She shielded her eyes against the sun. There was no end to it. She shouted to the helmsman for altitude. It was no good. No dust meant no traction. They were caught in its wake.
~~~
(Ashes To Ashes, S3, Alex)
Everywhere she goes, he is there with her, in the dim grey reflections of the windows as she walks to work, in the grimy corners of the station, in the shadows of the threadbare trattoria, even when she lays her head down to sleep; she can't seem to get the image of his half-destroyed face out of her head, can't escape from silent plea of his one good eye, haunted by his youth and the strange outline of his silhouette in the doorway of her bedroom, the leaden weight of his questioning gaze upon her, and the thing that scares her the most isn't the ragged edge of bone and skin above his jaw or the blackness she feels crowding around them both, pressing in from all sides, razor sharp teeth stealing away precise bites of memory, devouring the very things that she's trying most to cling to, no, that isn't what scares her the most; the real thing she fears is that he feels real in a way she can't quite put her finger on, in a way that draws her forward through the numberless days, case after case disappearing behind her, and still he eludes her, making her reach and stretch herself thin, makes her give more of herself than she even imagined she had to give, and she does, because when she looks in his eye, she knows that finding the truth, his truth, is the most important thing she has ever been called upon to do in her life.
Part One:
Write a paragraph of narrative, 100-150 words, in sentences of seven or fewer words. No sentence fragments! Each word must have a subject and a verb.
Part Two:
Write a half-page to a page of narrative, up to 350 words, which is all one sentence.
(Original fic, Captain Wednesday, Sea of Dust)
She woke to the sound of shouting. The ship was listing, the world tilted. In a breath, she was moving. Barefoot, she was on deck in a heartbeat. Her firstmate pointed. The veil parted on the beast's back. It was magnificent, broad and grey. She thought she was looking at land. No, it could never be so simple. Land didn't surge and roll. Land didn't roar and make the ship shudder. The leviathan was directly beneath them. She shielded her eyes against the sun. There was no end to it. She shouted to the helmsman for altitude. It was no good. No dust meant no traction. They were caught in its wake.
~~~
(Ashes To Ashes, S3, Alex)
Everywhere she goes, he is there with her, in the dim grey reflections of the windows as she walks to work, in the grimy corners of the station, in the shadows of the threadbare trattoria, even when she lays her head down to sleep; she can't seem to get the image of his half-destroyed face out of her head, can't escape from silent plea of his one good eye, haunted by his youth and the strange outline of his silhouette in the doorway of her bedroom, the leaden weight of his questioning gaze upon her, and the thing that scares her the most isn't the ragged edge of bone and skin above his jaw or the blackness she feels crowding around them both, pressing in from all sides, razor sharp teeth stealing away precise bites of memory, devouring the very things that she's trying most to cling to, no, that isn't what scares her the most; the real thing she fears is that he feels real in a way she can't quite put her finger on, in a way that draws her forward through the numberless days, case after case disappearing behind her, and still he eludes her, making her reach and stretch herself thin, makes her give more of herself than she even imagined she had to give, and she does, because when she looks in his eye, she knows that finding the truth, his truth, is the most important thing she has ever been called upon to do in her life.
"There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you."
~ Zora Neale Hurston
(courtesy arsvitaest)
~ Zora Neale Hurston
(courtesy arsvitaest)
"I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while." ~ Haruki Murakami
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Miss you, hun. Sorry 'bout the jury duty, that's never fun. :(