-
Hey, guest user. Hope you're enjoying NeoGAF! Have you considered registering for an account? Come join us and add your take to the daily discourse.
NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge #129 - "Breakdown"
- Thread starter multivac
- Start date
- Status
John Dunbar
correct about everything
A Complete World
(2,000 words, quote to see the password)
I might not be around on Friday so figured I'd post it a bit early this one time. I am not good with computer and this is a different PC I usually use, so can someone please tell me if the link works for everyone or just me.
(2,000 words, quote to see the password)
I might not be around on Friday so figured I'd post it a bit early this one time. I am not good with computer and this is a different PC I usually use, so can someone please tell me if the link works for everyone or just me.
Yep, working fine.
There was no way this story was going to finish under the word limit, so I've left it incomplete, but I'm posting it anyway to fish for a few comments.
The Dreamless Sleep
https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/61429030/DreamlessSleep.pdf
password:
The Dreamless Sleep
https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/61429030/DreamlessSleep.pdf
password:
neogaf
Chainsawkitten
Member
So...
How's everyone doing (apart from the ones already finished)?
Everything's been quite stressful over here.
Well, school projects are starting to be due.
(And of course...
I've been slacking off...)
Then there's the issue of the scope of my text being too large, both timewise and word count wise, and almost impossible to scale down.
Should have been more reasonable, but oh well.
...
How's everyone doing (apart from the ones already finished)?
Everything's been quite stressful over here.
Well, school projects are starting to be due.
(And of course...
I've been slacking off...)
Then there's the issue of the scope of my text being too large, both timewise and word count wise, and almost impossible to scale down.
Should have been more reasonable, but oh well.
...
SquiddyCracker
Banned
I haven't been able to sleep very well the last couple of weeks, so I'm going to pass on this one.
Or write up something completely different inspired by my sleepless state.
Or write up something completely different inspired by my sleepless state.
ab.aeterno
Member
Haven't written a word. I'm struggling between which of two structures to use, and beyond that the middle act is having serious issues as I wrote it in my head. Making the character develop to the point at which they start doing various actions in such as short time seems impossible.
Then again, I brought this on myself. My logline is based on a condensed experimental version of a full three novella trilogy I've had floating in my head for months.
:/
Still only have a vague idea, with no ending because everything I thought of just felt too cliched.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
Okay, new log line:
A Culture Mind intervenes to halt a runaway technological singularity.
A Culture Mind intervenes to halt a runaway technological singularity.
Hi. I've been wanting to do one of these for a while. Mine is pretty short :3
Break Down
662 Words
password:
Break Down
662 Words
password:
Not looking good over here. The thing is that I had this really relaxing weekend, were I actually took time to sit down and come up with something and while this was in a way rather productive I didn't come up with anything for this challenge but instead ended up with the setting, main-character, and conflict for my nanowrimo-project... which is awsome in its own way but doesn't really help with this challenge.
Well, I'll go swimming now and hope I come up with something, so I can just mash something together this night. Which is a shame because this:
is actually really good advise and I really wanted to try it but as it is I'll be lucky if I finish a first draft :/
Edit: Yeah. It's just not happening this week. Still no idea and just got the letter that I past a test I took some weeks ago. So I'll spend the night drinking instead of staring at my monitor.
You got juniored?
There's basically a fork in the road when it comes to most writers. Those who design their stories, and those who let their stories grow [sometimes from nothing]. And from there on, we branch out.
I have nothing this week - as of yet. So I will try the road less walked on by me. Which is the writing-on-the-edge-of-your-seats approach.
I also think writers write better close to dreamtime. Whether that is just before you nod of to sleep, or just after you wake up. Drink up. sober up. And write the hell out of your piece.
... Great. You did it. Now I'm sitting at my desk slightly tipsy and just realized that I won't get any sleep this night... not before I wrote a story anyways...
I think that's what I'm going to have to do as well. :/
Like the hat?
Banned
Oh shit, this is tonight. Gotta see if I can enter.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
@Ashes (I'm so hip, look at this twitter-like shout out) Yeah, got juniored, but it was ages ago.
Okay, been mulling over various scenes today, but am still uncertain as to how to finish the whole thing.
I'll get started anyway now and see what I end up with.
Okay, been mulling over various scenes today, but am still uncertain as to how to finish the whole thing.
I'll get started anyway now and see what I end up with.
Chainsawkitten
Member
So finally finished it at 02:42.
Had a uni group assignment as well; yay.
Eventually will have to plan these things better (that's never gonna happen).
Link:
Optical illusions
Vowel count: 3318, word count: 2000
Excluding loglines, that is.
Stop looking at me like that, it's not cheating!
Had a uni group assignment as well; yay.
Eventually will have to plan these things better (that's never gonna happen).
Link:
Optical illusions
Excluding loglines, that is.
Stop looking at me like that, it's not cheating!
hey_monkey
Banned
maaaaan, ima be late. HOLD THE THREAD.
I really really hate to miss a week, but I'm not going to be able to enter this oneGood luck everyone!
.
Yeah, just don't have it this week. Whoever wins better come up with something I can work with!
I really really hate to miss a week, but I'm not going to be able to enter this one
op curse strikes again!
toddhunter
Member
Expectations
1981 words, usual password . Please excuse the rushed editing.
Logline: A man goes to hell and finds not everything is as he expected
1981 words, usual password . Please excuse the rushed editing.
Logline: A man goes to hell and finds not everything is as he expected
SquiddyCracker
Banned
Okay, 700 words down.
Act 2 and 3 remains.
How many hours I got?
Act 2 and 3 remains.
How many hours I got?
ab.aeterno
Member
I feel like beating my head against the keyboard will get this written more quickly and with higher quality than what I'm managing now. Gotta go fast.
I just can't make this shit sound believable.
I just can't make this shit sound believable.
British Monsoon
Member
It was a fine day, like most round these parts. The sun had peaked in the sky and was making its slow decent to the west, out across the plains and to the mountains beyond. The air, warm and fresh against the old man's cheek, smelt of grass and of animals, and carried with it the sounds of people busy at a day's work. An eagle shrieked its cry high above and he watched its path as it effortlessly glided and soared, reading the currents of the wind, before dropping sharply to swoop onto some unsuspecting prey. His ageing eyes centred on a thick trail of dust in the near distance. He raised his hand to shield the sun from his eyes and smiled at what he saw. The old man stood slowly, feeling every year laid upon his tired joints, and rested on his cane to watch her come on in. She was pushing her beautiful dappled grey mare hard and he could see the lather on its neck as she slowed to a trot. He almost gasped as he saw the beast she led behind her, shaking his head in disbelief, he couldn't help but grin. She gave the reigns of her mare over to a stable boy and led her new acquisition into the corral, before striding over to the old man, a satisfied look on her face.
"Well, what's his breed?" she asked, brimming with excitement.
The old man took his time with his answer, peering over the girl's shoulder to look at the beast tramping about the corral. Its black coat glistened in the afternoon light as it surveyed its surroundings.
"Rey de los Caballos." he replied at last. "Not pure, mind."
"Is that rare?"
"Well, his name means 'King of Horses'. Sounds pretty rare, but there's a whole mess of them up beyond the mountains."
The horse reared up in the corral, as if its ears were burning.
"He don't like us talking about him." the old man laughed. "Don't like being penned in either, best set him free."
"Set him free? No, sir. I roped him, I'm gonna break him in."
The old man had to laugh at that, which turned into a wheeze, which set him coughing. He tottered back to his bench and motioned the girl to follow.
"Come sit a spell, girl. I'll tell you why you ain't ever breaking that horse."
"When I was but a boy, back when this town had nothing but a dirt track and a few rickety houses to its name, the mayor had some grand ideas about putting our little corner of the frontier on the map. Once such idea, more of a dream, really, was to breed horses. Folks always have need horses on the frontier, as well you know. Now, they mayor, being a man of wealth, set about acquiring the finest breeding stock money could buy. He even went as far to send for a prize stallion from the old country and for months and months was crowing about the fame and fortune the animal, the king of horses, would bring the town when it arrived. Well, he was right about that, but not in the way he had planned."
"The horse arrived late that following summer, just as we were preparing for the harvest. The whole town poured out once the news spread. The courier handed the reigns direct over to the mayor, along with an envelope containing the deed of sale that listed 'Rey de los Caballos' as the horse's name. Well, they mayor was as pleased as punch as he led the horse over to that there very corral. But his mood darkened over the coming days and weeks as it became clear that, as special as this horse may have been, there was no chance in hell of us taming him. No man could break him, he even killed one of the stable hands with a vicious kick when the boy foolishly approached him from behind. It soon got that no man wanted to try and tame him."
"No woman, either." he said pointedly in response the girl's raised eyebrow. "The mayor was mad with rage, felt the whole town was laughing at him and his uncontrollable horse, until a funny thing started to happen. People began showing up from all over, looking for a chance to quell this fearsome beast. Word had spread and, well, sure enough, the mayor saw gold. He took out adverts in the national papers, sent flyers to every town within a few hundred miles. Come tame the untameable Devil Horse! We had a genuine tourist attraction on our hands and the fortunes of the town were on the rise. Soon, people took to calling the horse Chomper, on account of the number of fingers foolish hopefuls had lost to the beast. Dozens of riders fell beneath its hooves and, suffice to say, there was more than one fatality, but that never diminished the interest in the horse, nor cut short the number willing to try their luck."
"Then, one day, a wiry looking man strode on into town. Said his name was Silas and he was here looking for a horse. He wasn't much of nothing to look at and seemed to rub folk the wrong way as he dismissively examined the stock in the stables. Then he set eyes on Chomper. 'How much is that horse?', he asked, only to be told that the horse wasn't for sale and, besides, there was no way he could ever break him. Well, Silas looked the mayor in the eye and said to him 'Mister, I got a way with horses. They speak to me and if I break that horse, you're gonna give him to me for free'. To that, the mayor agreed and the whole town gathered to watch Silas undoubtedly fail like so many others had before."
"He did it, didn't he?" the girl asked.
"Hush now, have some patience, girl." the old man scolded, before continuing on with his story.
"Silas stood alone in the corral, seemingly unperturbed by the challenge he was about to face. They brought out Chomper, two stable boys struggling to control the animal, who had become more and more crazed since the day he arrived. The stable boys closed the gate and Silas was left alone with Chomper. At first, he did nothing, save for spitting a glob of tobacco juice onto the ground before him. Then, he started to slowly circle the beast, their eyes locked together. This went on for some time and people began to jeer, but Silas carried on staring until, slowly, he paced forwards, always keeping his eyes on Chomper's."
"He got within a foot and reached out. The crowd let out an involuntary gasp, waiting for the moment when Chomper would live up to his name and liberate Silas of his fingers. But the moment never came. Silas stroked the beasts mane and leaned in close, whispering into its ear. Shock washed over the crowd as they could visibly see the beast calm, then, with one hand on the back of Chomper's neck, Silas launched himself up onto the horse's back. Another gasp from the crowd, followed by pandemonium as Silas sat straight and brought Chomper to a trot, doing laps of the corral with that stupid grin plastered on his face."
"The people were cheering now, while the mayor just starred in disbelief. 'Deals a deal', yelled Silas, before sticking his spurs into Chomper's flanks and making for the fence, Chomper clearing it easily in one giant leap. The mayor was crestfallen and had to be helped back to his house, but years that followed he cursed bitterly the day he ever bought that horse, right up until the day he died."
"So what happened?" the girl asked, interrupting the wistful silence the old man had lapsed into.
"Oh, yes. Well, rightly that's a different tale altogether, but I'll give you the abridged version. Next spring, word got back to us of an outlaw terrorizing communities throughout the frontier. They said he rode a fearsome black horse with a mean streak a mile wide, one that out-paced any who gave chase. For years more we heard tales of their misadventures. They turned over more banks and stagecoaches than you could keep track of, robbing and killing any who got in their way, and it wasn't long before their special brand of trouble came riding back in our direction. But, it was only a flying visit. A blur of mean-tempered, black coated madness, tearing through town with a whoop and a holler, a posse of twenty or more lawman hot on their heels."
"Seems Silas had made some powerful enemies, as you are like to do if you make a habit of robbing rich folk, and the best thief takers from across the frontier had banded together to track Silas down. They drove him mercilessly until, left with nowhere else to run, they had him trapped between their guns and the hundred feet drop down into Gulch's canyon. Silas knew he was done for, so he spiked his spurs hard into Chomper's side and made for the canyon. The lawmen gave chase, ready for any trick Silas might have up his sleeve, and watched on as, urging Chomper faster, Silas approached the canyon's edge. 'Well, I guess it's you and me until the bitter end, Chomp. So long, fellas!' Silas called, pulling hard on the reigns to make his mount jump."
"But Chomper didn't jump. He bucked, hard, and down Silas fell into the canyon's depths with an angry cry, all alone. One of the lawmen managed to get his fingers ahold of Chomper's reigns, but he bit the man's hand clean off at the wrist. The lawmen fired their guns, but Chomper was too quick, galloping away as fast as the winds. He made for the mountains and that was the last we ever saw of Chomper. But, a few years later, we increasingly started to see young horses on the far plains and beyond the mountain passes, horses with dark black coats and as fast as the wind. That there is one such horse, my girl. A Rey de los Caballos." the old man said, pointing to the beast that was now pacing angrily in the corral.
"You see girl, as good as you are with horses, you'll never tame that stallion. Oh, you might get him to cooperate for a while, like Silas did, but he'll never be truly tamed and he'll never truly be yours. A creature like that belongs only to itself and Silas made the mistake of thinking he was in control."
"I'll break him, you'll see." the girl said. "Just think of how valuable he could be if we got him put to stud. Hell, he's near twice the height and size of most of the nags round these parts."
"That value's worth little if he kicks you from the saddle and you break your neck. I'm telling you girl, let this one go." the old man implored, rising to his feet.
"I'm sorry, but you know I've got to try."
"Hmmph, well, if we're lucky he'll only damage your pride." the old man snapped, more harshly than he'd intended, but he feared for her.
They advanced towards the corral, the horse staring at them all the while. They approached the gate and the horse came to meet them. Suddenly, it reared up and sounded its displeasure. The old man stumbled backwards and fell hard to the dirt, while the girl tried to soothe the beast. It reared again, turned and, in one clean leap, cleared the corral fence and galloped off. The girl helped the old man to his feet and they watched as the horse sped out of town, across the plains and on, towards the distant mountains, soon becoming little more than a trail of dust on the horizon.
"Well, what's his breed?" she asked, brimming with excitement.
The old man took his time with his answer, peering over the girl's shoulder to look at the beast tramping about the corral. Its black coat glistened in the afternoon light as it surveyed its surroundings.
"Rey de los Caballos." he replied at last. "Not pure, mind."
"Is that rare?"
"Well, his name means 'King of Horses'. Sounds pretty rare, but there's a whole mess of them up beyond the mountains."
The horse reared up in the corral, as if its ears were burning.
"He don't like us talking about him." the old man laughed. "Don't like being penned in either, best set him free."
"Set him free? No, sir. I roped him, I'm gonna break him in."
The old man had to laugh at that, which turned into a wheeze, which set him coughing. He tottered back to his bench and motioned the girl to follow.
"Come sit a spell, girl. I'll tell you why you ain't ever breaking that horse."
"When I was but a boy, back when this town had nothing but a dirt track and a few rickety houses to its name, the mayor had some grand ideas about putting our little corner of the frontier on the map. Once such idea, more of a dream, really, was to breed horses. Folks always have need horses on the frontier, as well you know. Now, they mayor, being a man of wealth, set about acquiring the finest breeding stock money could buy. He even went as far to send for a prize stallion from the old country and for months and months was crowing about the fame and fortune the animal, the king of horses, would bring the town when it arrived. Well, he was right about that, but not in the way he had planned."
"The horse arrived late that following summer, just as we were preparing for the harvest. The whole town poured out once the news spread. The courier handed the reigns direct over to the mayor, along with an envelope containing the deed of sale that listed 'Rey de los Caballos' as the horse's name. Well, they mayor was as pleased as punch as he led the horse over to that there very corral. But his mood darkened over the coming days and weeks as it became clear that, as special as this horse may have been, there was no chance in hell of us taming him. No man could break him, he even killed one of the stable hands with a vicious kick when the boy foolishly approached him from behind. It soon got that no man wanted to try and tame him."
"No woman, either." he said pointedly in response the girl's raised eyebrow. "The mayor was mad with rage, felt the whole town was laughing at him and his uncontrollable horse, until a funny thing started to happen. People began showing up from all over, looking for a chance to quell this fearsome beast. Word had spread and, well, sure enough, the mayor saw gold. He took out adverts in the national papers, sent flyers to every town within a few hundred miles. Come tame the untameable Devil Horse! We had a genuine tourist attraction on our hands and the fortunes of the town were on the rise. Soon, people took to calling the horse Chomper, on account of the number of fingers foolish hopefuls had lost to the beast. Dozens of riders fell beneath its hooves and, suffice to say, there was more than one fatality, but that never diminished the interest in the horse, nor cut short the number willing to try their luck."
"Then, one day, a wiry looking man strode on into town. Said his name was Silas and he was here looking for a horse. He wasn't much of nothing to look at and seemed to rub folk the wrong way as he dismissively examined the stock in the stables. Then he set eyes on Chomper. 'How much is that horse?', he asked, only to be told that the horse wasn't for sale and, besides, there was no way he could ever break him. Well, Silas looked the mayor in the eye and said to him 'Mister, I got a way with horses. They speak to me and if I break that horse, you're gonna give him to me for free'. To that, the mayor agreed and the whole town gathered to watch Silas undoubtedly fail like so many others had before."
"He did it, didn't he?" the girl asked.
"Hush now, have some patience, girl." the old man scolded, before continuing on with his story.
"Silas stood alone in the corral, seemingly unperturbed by the challenge he was about to face. They brought out Chomper, two stable boys struggling to control the animal, who had become more and more crazed since the day he arrived. The stable boys closed the gate and Silas was left alone with Chomper. At first, he did nothing, save for spitting a glob of tobacco juice onto the ground before him. Then, he started to slowly circle the beast, their eyes locked together. This went on for some time and people began to jeer, but Silas carried on staring until, slowly, he paced forwards, always keeping his eyes on Chomper's."
"He got within a foot and reached out. The crowd let out an involuntary gasp, waiting for the moment when Chomper would live up to his name and liberate Silas of his fingers. But the moment never came. Silas stroked the beasts mane and leaned in close, whispering into its ear. Shock washed over the crowd as they could visibly see the beast calm, then, with one hand on the back of Chomper's neck, Silas launched himself up onto the horse's back. Another gasp from the crowd, followed by pandemonium as Silas sat straight and brought Chomper to a trot, doing laps of the corral with that stupid grin plastered on his face."
"The people were cheering now, while the mayor just starred in disbelief. 'Deals a deal', yelled Silas, before sticking his spurs into Chomper's flanks and making for the fence, Chomper clearing it easily in one giant leap. The mayor was crestfallen and had to be helped back to his house, but years that followed he cursed bitterly the day he ever bought that horse, right up until the day he died."
"So what happened?" the girl asked, interrupting the wistful silence the old man had lapsed into.
"Oh, yes. Well, rightly that's a different tale altogether, but I'll give you the abridged version. Next spring, word got back to us of an outlaw terrorizing communities throughout the frontier. They said he rode a fearsome black horse with a mean streak a mile wide, one that out-paced any who gave chase. For years more we heard tales of their misadventures. They turned over more banks and stagecoaches than you could keep track of, robbing and killing any who got in their way, and it wasn't long before their special brand of trouble came riding back in our direction. But, it was only a flying visit. A blur of mean-tempered, black coated madness, tearing through town with a whoop and a holler, a posse of twenty or more lawman hot on their heels."
"Seems Silas had made some powerful enemies, as you are like to do if you make a habit of robbing rich folk, and the best thief takers from across the frontier had banded together to track Silas down. They drove him mercilessly until, left with nowhere else to run, they had him trapped between their guns and the hundred feet drop down into Gulch's canyon. Silas knew he was done for, so he spiked his spurs hard into Chomper's side and made for the canyon. The lawmen gave chase, ready for any trick Silas might have up his sleeve, and watched on as, urging Chomper faster, Silas approached the canyon's edge. 'Well, I guess it's you and me until the bitter end, Chomp. So long, fellas!' Silas called, pulling hard on the reigns to make his mount jump."
"But Chomper didn't jump. He bucked, hard, and down Silas fell into the canyon's depths with an angry cry, all alone. One of the lawmen managed to get his fingers ahold of Chomper's reigns, but he bit the man's hand clean off at the wrist. The lawmen fired their guns, but Chomper was too quick, galloping away as fast as the winds. He made for the mountains and that was the last we ever saw of Chomper. But, a few years later, we increasingly started to see young horses on the far plains and beyond the mountain passes, horses with dark black coats and as fast as the wind. That there is one such horse, my girl. A Rey de los Caballos." the old man said, pointing to the beast that was now pacing angrily in the corral.
"You see girl, as good as you are with horses, you'll never tame that stallion. Oh, you might get him to cooperate for a while, like Silas did, but he'll never be truly tamed and he'll never truly be yours. A creature like that belongs only to itself and Silas made the mistake of thinking he was in control."
"I'll break him, you'll see." the girl said. "Just think of how valuable he could be if we got him put to stud. Hell, he's near twice the height and size of most of the nags round these parts."
"That value's worth little if he kicks you from the saddle and you break your neck. I'm telling you girl, let this one go." the old man implored, rising to his feet.
"I'm sorry, but you know I've got to try."
"Hmmph, well, if we're lucky he'll only damage your pride." the old man snapped, more harshly than he'd intended, but he feared for her.
They advanced towards the corral, the horse staring at them all the while. They approached the gate and the horse came to meet them. Suddenly, it reared up and sounded its displeasure. The old man stumbled backwards and fell hard to the dirt, while the girl tried to soothe the beast. It reared again, turned and, in one clean leap, cleared the corral fence and galloped off. The girl helped the old man to his feet and they watched as the horse sped out of town, across the plains and on, towards the distant mountains, soon becoming little more than a trail of dust on the horizon.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
Ah, more or less 4 hours remaining, I guess I'll manage.
Logline: When someone breaks the universe, who cleans up the mess?
Cleanup Crew
1469 words
Usual password (But quote to view if you don't know, since a lot of people have gotten it in their mind to use something else as the password lately)
Cleanup Crew
1469 words
Usual password (But quote to view if you don't know, since a lot of people have gotten it in their mind to use something else as the password lately)
Heeeeeeeeeey.
hey_monkey
Banned
Not gonna make it either... too sick, too tired, and the baby doesn't want to stay asleep. I'm triple whammied, alas.
Happy Birthday, Pau! A day after my mom's birthday, too.
What are you in school for, out of curiosity? And don't blame it on being a slacker, rather, blame it on your well-thought-out quest for balance in your life.
Hard core. After drinking too. You peeps don't kid around!
Commendable!Got up to realize that I'm way too tired to write anything coherent. Guess I'll have to admit defeat. I tried. I really did
Eww! This sounds so slimy.
Whoa. That sounds so overwhelming.
"Artistic Expression" (1734 words)
A note about my story, only to be read afterwards:
I get that Redwood doesn't usually invite termites, but it does! Aldo, I was thinking how fun it'd be to do illustrations for this story but ran out of time.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
Logline: A Culture Mind intervenes to halt a runaway technological singularity.
Promises Held - 1995 words
Yep, it's fan-fiction.
Probably going to be confusing to people unfamiliar with the Culture novels, but I tried to write it semi-novice friendlyish.
Promises Held - 1995 words
Yep, it's fan-fiction.
Probably going to be confusing to people unfamiliar with the Culture novels, but I tried to write it semi-novice friendlyish.
ab.aeterno
Member
The Quiet Implosion
Words: 1837
Quote for link.
Please be brutally honest in your evaluations.
First and only draft, as usual. This didn't turn out at all like I'd hoped though. There wasn't enough space to develop the character. I think I was over-ambitious, but it at least helped me identify the issues I'll face if I ever try and tackle the much larger story the backbone of this comes from.
Oh well, fuck it. Better post it before I second-guess myself into holding it back.
EDIT: Note about my story for people who read it:
Words: 1837
Quote for link.
Please be brutally honest in your evaluations.
First and only draft, as usual. This didn't turn out at all like I'd hoped though. There wasn't enough space to develop the character. I think I was over-ambitious, but it at least helped me identify the issues I'll face if I ever try and tackle the much larger story the backbone of this comes from.
Oh well, fuck it. Better post it before I second-guess myself into holding it back.
EDIT: Note about my story for people who read it:
was thinking of structuring it as entirely dialogue between two characters, with a small "twist" being that the main character is the defendant in a murder trial, recounting what led him to do it. Plot would've stayed the same. Dunno if I should've done that or not. Would've been a more natural way to do some expository dumping.
For those that know me this might come as a shocker but I am going to be missing this one, as well.
I know that I've missed the last few.. and by few I mean the last dozen or so.. but Im finding myself too busy. Well, busys not the right word but these slip out of my mind until it is too late to make them in time.. at least this time I made it late enough to say something before the time's up.
To be entirely honest, things have been looking up for me and I don't think I even need to come anymore. My jobs doing well, my kids are finishing up college, and my wife hasn't mentioned divorce in over four months. She's happy now. We are. I think it might have something to do with the baby.
Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention this before but.. I'm going to have another kid. She talked about it-- well.. around it, at first. I think she did because she was afraid I might hit her again...but I took the news well, I think. We kissed, she cried, and that was it. Things are going well between us and I didn't have to put down any of my vices to get here.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that these meetings might help y'all but I don't see the benefit anymore. Tod, you know I love you but you need to man up. Your kids hate you because you were a failure of a father, not because you were an alcoholic. That's what I had to finally tell myself.. and it's true. I can be better.. yknow, going forward.. but I don't need to stop doing what I enjoy to get there.
You see.. this is what I ended up realizing. Everyone blames their blemishes when they really need to look inward at where the real issue lies. I wasn't abusive because I drank, I was abusive because I can't think straight when I'm under stress. So I just changed the way I looked at life and now nothing really gets under my skin anymore.
The key was when I realized that nothing is really that important. Bills? Fuck em. I know enough people that no matter how bad things get, I'll always have a meal to eat and a place to lay my head. Nothing at my job gets under my skin, anymore, and when you get down to it what else do you need? TV? Music? Its all just a waste of time, anyway.
My kids? They hate me and I can understand. I mean, I really was a piece of shit to them when they were growin up. Hell, they even hate their mom now--they blame her for not divorcing me when I.. whenever I disciplined them harder than I should've. I guess that's fair. I dont let it get to me, anymore. That door is closed. I mean.. I hated my dad cause he was a piece of shit, as well.
Anyway, they hate me. That's gone and done, but I still have a chance with this new one. I'll be the dad I always wanted to be: the dad that I know I am inside. Things'll be better this time. Different. I talked to my wife about it all and she thinks so, too.
So here I am. Things are looking up, and I got there entirely on my own. I mean.. you guys had a small part in it.. just to help me realize that these meetings were never gonna do me any good. You set me down the path to self-healing, and for that I am thankful.. but you won't see me again.
I know that I've missed the last few.. and by few I mean the last dozen or so.. but Im finding myself too busy. Well, busys not the right word but these slip out of my mind until it is too late to make them in time.. at least this time I made it late enough to say something before the time's up.
To be entirely honest, things have been looking up for me and I don't think I even need to come anymore. My jobs doing well, my kids are finishing up college, and my wife hasn't mentioned divorce in over four months. She's happy now. We are. I think it might have something to do with the baby.
Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention this before but.. I'm going to have another kid. She talked about it-- well.. around it, at first. I think she did because she was afraid I might hit her again...but I took the news well, I think. We kissed, she cried, and that was it. Things are going well between us and I didn't have to put down any of my vices to get here.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that these meetings might help y'all but I don't see the benefit anymore. Tod, you know I love you but you need to man up. Your kids hate you because you were a failure of a father, not because you were an alcoholic. That's what I had to finally tell myself.. and it's true. I can be better.. yknow, going forward.. but I don't need to stop doing what I enjoy to get there.
You see.. this is what I ended up realizing. Everyone blames their blemishes when they really need to look inward at where the real issue lies. I wasn't abusive because I drank, I was abusive because I can't think straight when I'm under stress. So I just changed the way I looked at life and now nothing really gets under my skin anymore.
The key was when I realized that nothing is really that important. Bills? Fuck em. I know enough people that no matter how bad things get, I'll always have a meal to eat and a place to lay my head. Nothing at my job gets under my skin, anymore, and when you get down to it what else do you need? TV? Music? Its all just a waste of time, anyway.
My kids? They hate me and I can understand. I mean, I really was a piece of shit to them when they were growin up. Hell, they even hate their mom now--they blame her for not divorcing me when I.. whenever I disciplined them harder than I should've. I guess that's fair. I dont let it get to me, anymore. That door is closed. I mean.. I hated my dad cause he was a piece of shit, as well.
Anyway, they hate me. That's gone and done, but I still have a chance with this new one. I'll be the dad I always wanted to be: the dad that I know I am inside. Things'll be better this time. Different. I talked to my wife about it all and she thinks so, too.
So here I am. Things are looking up, and I got there entirely on my own. I mean.. you guys had a small part in it.. just to help me realize that these meetings were never gonna do me any good. You set me down the path to self-healing, and for that I am thankful.. but you won't see me again.
Ignorance. 627 words
Yeah I didn't finish this week, but I'll post what I got for fun. I think I should spend less time on gaf and more time writing.
Untitled - 414 words.
Ascending the stairwell, the stairs creaked and cracked with every step, the noise peppering up towards an empty boxing gym. Loose nails and the faded outlines of photos adorn the walls going upstairs. The lingering smell of sweat becomes distinct as you enter and see the decaying punching bags and faded boxing ring situated upstairs. A poster of Muhammad Ali is hanging on the wall, the caption reads, “Don’t be afraid to dream,” taunting you to lace up your gloves. Stacked folding chairs are scattered throughout the open space. There was a fight last night, the new kid, Kasey, and a star fighter won his fifth straight fight. Kasey slowed his opponent, Williams, down with a succession of jabs and shots to the kidneys. Later on in the seventh round Kasey knocked Williams out with a hook and a straight, a crowd of a dozen people cheering Kasey on.
Usually Jimmy, my trainer, helps me lace up. He’s running late again. Jimmy is never here before sunrise, but he’s an old-timer and will give you the best training and management when he is here.
“My car never fucking starts in the rain,” Jimmy would often use that excuse, even when the weather was sunny. His car would frequently be at the mechanic, it was an old Mazda and the engine would need a routine tune-up. I’ll have to lace up myself for the time being. I’ve been getting good at wrapping my hands. Jimmy will have to redo the gloves and wraps once he arrives. It’s better when everything is snug against the fists. It allows the knuckles to penetrate through the wraps and gloves. But it’s a two person job. Twenty years ago you would have had a dozen guys training at sunrise. One of them would have gladly helped me lace up. A decline in the sport and cycles of economic recessions has eroded any continuing interest of boxing in the area. I’ll have to skip rope and test my endurance. I need to make sure I don’t have a heart attack in the middle of the 8th round. My last fight will be in a month, it will be a title fight. Win or lose I’ll be retiring afterwards. Jimmy told me after he had arranged the fight, “Make sure you go out on top, no one remembers the loser.” My opponent, Pose, is younger, faster, and stronger than me. I have to fight smart, to study him and his style.
Untitled - 414 words.
Ascending the stairwell, the stairs creaked and cracked with every step, the noise peppering up towards an empty boxing gym. Loose nails and the faded outlines of photos adorn the walls going upstairs. The lingering smell of sweat becomes distinct as you enter and see the decaying punching bags and faded boxing ring situated upstairs. A poster of Muhammad Ali is hanging on the wall, the caption reads, “Don’t be afraid to dream,” taunting you to lace up your gloves. Stacked folding chairs are scattered throughout the open space. There was a fight last night, the new kid, Kasey, and a star fighter won his fifth straight fight. Kasey slowed his opponent, Williams, down with a succession of jabs and shots to the kidneys. Later on in the seventh round Kasey knocked Williams out with a hook and a straight, a crowd of a dozen people cheering Kasey on.
Usually Jimmy, my trainer, helps me lace up. He’s running late again. Jimmy is never here before sunrise, but he’s an old-timer and will give you the best training and management when he is here.
“My car never fucking starts in the rain,” Jimmy would often use that excuse, even when the weather was sunny. His car would frequently be at the mechanic, it was an old Mazda and the engine would need a routine tune-up. I’ll have to lace up myself for the time being. I’ve been getting good at wrapping my hands. Jimmy will have to redo the gloves and wraps once he arrives. It’s better when everything is snug against the fists. It allows the knuckles to penetrate through the wraps and gloves. But it’s a two person job. Twenty years ago you would have had a dozen guys training at sunrise. One of them would have gladly helped me lace up. A decline in the sport and cycles of economic recessions has eroded any continuing interest of boxing in the area. I’ll have to skip rope and test my endurance. I need to make sure I don’t have a heart attack in the middle of the 8th round. My last fight will be in a month, it will be a title fight. Win or lose I’ll be retiring afterwards. Jimmy told me after he had arranged the fight, “Make sure you go out on top, no one remembers the loser.” My opponent, Pose, is younger, faster, and stronger than me. I have to fight smart, to study him and his style.
() (~1050 wrrds)
On a Wednesday afternoon, Jordan was summoned to the office of the big man himself. She wasn't just summoned; she was led in person by her boss' own personal assistant. Yes. Yes. Yes. It was all she could think as she walked down the line of cubicles. When the assistant came for her, Jordan had just clicked her phone down after dotting some i's and criss-crossing more than enough X's. Locking down this client was going to be a big score. She lobbed a stink eye to her rival, William. He smiled in return.
Hummmmm. The fluorescents flickered.
Wait a moment. The assistant disappeared inside the boss' office. Jordan waited outside. She calmed herself. Settle down, girl. It wouldn't do good to see the boss as all hyped as she was. She tried to lay out her weekend plans. Maybe that new club with some girls from the office. Maybe seek out a new pair of running shoes. Maybe hit the farmer's market, and find the biggest pecan pie. Or at least, the pie with the biggest pecans. She scrounged the innards of a glass duck and considered whether its insides had gone to a glass Quackmas dinner. Who needs innards when you have jelly beans? Just her luck. Black. Blech. She set it behind the duck as if it had laid a bituminous egg. She ate a red jelly bean. It tasted as if it had come straight from the cherry orchard.
Go on in. Jordan squirmed in a straight-back chair. Her boss seemed quite the distillation of comfort as he sat in a cushioned leather chair behind a black desk topped by a thick ellipse of glass. She couldn't get comfortable. And before she knew it, she had heard the words good or great five to six times in the span of a telephone ring. Good work. Great job. A good asset. A good hand to have. Good. Great. Great. Did she know that she was hard-working?
Please understand strapped her in. For the best put that silver-dioded dome over her head. We're a team here. Something something more bullshit. William gets the account. She had done all the legwork to get the client, and they had flipped the switch on her.
Jordan had a comeback, a retort, a full reasoning and rhyming for her to handle the account that she got them. And she was ready to state it all, until a jelly bean flew from her mouth and bopped her boss in the forehead. She was disappointed. She was enjoying the flavor.
She should have known. William smiled. Hyena behind glass. She let the birds fly.
You fuckers. You fuckers. You fuckers. You fuckers. You fuckers. At least one she said out loud. You fuckers. Two. At least.
GOD. DAMN.
She stomped down two flights of stairs. Stomp. (stomp) Her footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Jordan waited for the elevator in front of the glass doors of a company that specialized in pet insurance. She had hoped for puppies and kittens, but all she got was the graying beehive and the tortoiseshell Coke bottles of a receptionist with a fill-in-the-blank expression. Jordan wasn't sure what she would do if there was someone from her office in the elevator going down.
In the parking garage, Jordan picked a butterfly from her windshield wipers before she slipped inside her car. She revved the engine. The rpms satisfied her. Her tires squealed. She rocketed away. She wanted to be as far as she could from that place.
Clunk. The world went clunk.
(hsssh) Shit. Piece. Of. Shit. German engineering? My ass. (plonk) Ow. Poor toes. That hurt. Calm down. Settle down. Jordan, calm. (plonk) Ow.
Tow = $$.
(ringring) Nope. You do it. I'm busy. Work. Yes, work. (click)
Taxi = $.
Where to?
Home.
Home?
No. Wait. Fuck it.
Drinks = $.
Hey.
Oh, hi. You are...?
You don't know.
Oh.
Drinks = $$.
Pretty good now. Like your butt.
Make me blush.
Cute. Something something more flirting.
Dance?
Guess = $$$.
Off. Git.
Puppy! Cute.
Wait.
Hmm? My head tingled.
Might be poop.
Under the covers? Check. Please.
Nope.
Lying?
Nope.
Would you?
Maybe. Probably.
Kiss me.
Lips soft.
Shut up.
(kisskiss) (kisskisskiss) (kiss)
Well?
Well?
What?
Zip?
Button.
Where?
Back.
(fumblefumble) Stuck. Up.
Up?
Lift.
Oh.
Thank you. There.
(kisskiss)
Hey. Wrap it up.
Oh? Oh. Really?
Wrap. That. Up.
Oh. Let's see. Oh, here. Found one. (fumblefumble)
Here. (fumblefumble)
See?
Shush. Teeth. (bitebite) Nfff.
Scissors?
Go. (taptap) Huff. Hrm. (taptap tap tap tap) Hrmmm. Hrrrmmmmmmm. (taptap tap--) Hi. Good boy. (scratchscratch) Aren't you cute? So cute. (scratchscratch) (licklick) Cold nose!
Git.
zzzzzzz. Hup. (snort) SHIT. What?
Okay. Skirt. Blouse. Bra. Bra first. Remember that.
(sneaksneak) Oh. Shhh. Shhh. Good boy. (scratchscratch) Steal you. Ha ha. Nah. Be good. (scratchscratch) Bye. (creak)
Taxi = $$.
ZZZZZZZzzzz--
What stinks? (sniffsniff) Oh.
Needed that. Feel clean now.
(scrunchscrunch) (milk) No snap. No crackle. No pop. Corn flakes. Blech. Screw 'em. Asset my ass.
Oh. Here we go. Oh, oh. Cold. Cold. Rocky road. Syrup? Chocolate? Chocolate? Hmm. Keurig? Keurig! (stabstab) (bitebite) Nfff. (sprinklesprinkle) Ah, daytime tv. Old friend. (click) Syria. Nope. Nope. No current events. Hrm. One dollar, Drew. You're no Bob. I'm your son! Thanks, Spanish I. Tebow, Lebron, Tebow. Two payments of-- (click)
Fuck it.
(knockknock)
What? (yawn)
Morning, neighbor.
What!
Cup of sugar?
Seriously?
And maybe...
What are you? A narc?
Just a little. Like one.
One? Wait here.
(taptap)
Here. One.
Thanks.
(sniffsniff) Well, okay. Now what? Lighter? Matches? Matchbook somewhere? Shit. Fuck fuck fuck.
Stove.
(ringring) Hello. Sis. No. You. No. No. No. Can't. You heard? How? Seriously? I'm fine. Perfect? For you, maybe. Fine. Yes. Fine. I said fine. You heard me.
Settle down. No, no. Why? Because... work. Hard-working asset. Good. Great.
Taxi = $$.
Mom? (hug)
xoxo
On a Wednesday afternoon, Jordan was summoned to the office of the big man himself. She wasn't just summoned; she was led in person by her boss' own personal assistant. Yes. Yes. Yes. It was all she could think as she walked down the line of cubicles. When the assistant came for her, Jordan had just clicked her phone down after dotting some i's and criss-crossing more than enough X's. Locking down this client was going to be a big score. She lobbed a stink eye to her rival, William. He smiled in return.
Hummmmm. The fluorescents flickered.
Wait a moment. The assistant disappeared inside the boss' office. Jordan waited outside. She calmed herself. Settle down, girl. It wouldn't do good to see the boss as all hyped as she was. She tried to lay out her weekend plans. Maybe that new club with some girls from the office. Maybe seek out a new pair of running shoes. Maybe hit the farmer's market, and find the biggest pecan pie. Or at least, the pie with the biggest pecans. She scrounged the innards of a glass duck and considered whether its insides had gone to a glass Quackmas dinner. Who needs innards when you have jelly beans? Just her luck. Black. Blech. She set it behind the duck as if it had laid a bituminous egg. She ate a red jelly bean. It tasted as if it had come straight from the cherry orchard.
Go on in. Jordan squirmed in a straight-back chair. Her boss seemed quite the distillation of comfort as he sat in a cushioned leather chair behind a black desk topped by a thick ellipse of glass. She couldn't get comfortable. And before she knew it, she had heard the words good or great five to six times in the span of a telephone ring. Good work. Great job. A good asset. A good hand to have. Good. Great. Great. Did she know that she was hard-working?
Please understand strapped her in. For the best put that silver-dioded dome over her head. We're a team here. Something something more bullshit. William gets the account. She had done all the legwork to get the client, and they had flipped the switch on her.
Jordan had a comeback, a retort, a full reasoning and rhyming for her to handle the account that she got them. And she was ready to state it all, until a jelly bean flew from her mouth and bopped her boss in the forehead. She was disappointed. She was enjoying the flavor.
She should have known. William smiled. Hyena behind glass. She let the birds fly.
You fuckers. You fuckers. You fuckers. You fuckers. You fuckers. At least one she said out loud. You fuckers. Two. At least.
GOD. DAMN.
She stomped down two flights of stairs. Stomp. (stomp) Her footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Jordan waited for the elevator in front of the glass doors of a company that specialized in pet insurance. She had hoped for puppies and kittens, but all she got was the graying beehive and the tortoiseshell Coke bottles of a receptionist with a fill-in-the-blank expression. Jordan wasn't sure what she would do if there was someone from her office in the elevator going down.
In the parking garage, Jordan picked a butterfly from her windshield wipers before she slipped inside her car. She revved the engine. The rpms satisfied her. Her tires squealed. She rocketed away. She wanted to be as far as she could from that place.
Clunk. The world went clunk.
(hsssh) Shit. Piece. Of. Shit. German engineering? My ass. (plonk) Ow. Poor toes. That hurt. Calm down. Settle down. Jordan, calm. (plonk) Ow.
Tow = $$.
(ringring) Nope. You do it. I'm busy. Work. Yes, work. (click)
Taxi = $.
Where to?
Home.
Home?
No. Wait. Fuck it.
Drinks = $.
Hey.
Oh, hi. You are...?
You don't know.
Oh.
Drinks = $$.
Pretty good now. Like your butt.
Make me blush.
Cute. Something something more flirting.
Dance?
Guess = $$$.
Off. Git.
Puppy! Cute.
Wait.
Hmm? My head tingled.
Might be poop.
Under the covers? Check. Please.
Nope.
Lying?
Nope.
Would you?
Maybe. Probably.
Kiss me.
Lips soft.
Shut up.
(kisskiss) (kisskisskiss) (kiss)
Well?
Well?
What?
Zip?
Button.
Where?
Back.
(fumblefumble) Stuck. Up.
Up?
Lift.
Oh.
Thank you. There.
(kisskiss)
Hey. Wrap it up.
Oh? Oh. Really?
Wrap. That. Up.
Oh. Let's see. Oh, here. Found one. (fumblefumble)
Here. (fumblefumble)
See?
Shush. Teeth. (bitebite) Nfff.
Scissors?
Go. (taptap) Huff. Hrm. (taptap tap tap tap) Hrmmm. Hrrrmmmmmmm. (taptap tap--) Hi. Good boy. (scratchscratch) Aren't you cute? So cute. (scratchscratch) (licklick) Cold nose!
Git.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuckfuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuck fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Fuck Fuck. Fuuucckkk. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. FUCK. Fuckfuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. F-f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuck fuck fuck. Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck fuck fuck fucking fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Fuuuuucccccckkkkkkk.
zzzzzzz. Hup. (snort) SHIT. What?
Okay. Skirt. Blouse. Bra. Bra first. Remember that.
(sneaksneak) Oh. Shhh. Shhh. Good boy. (scratchscratch) Steal you. Ha ha. Nah. Be good. (scratchscratch) Bye. (creak)
Taxi = $$.
ZZZZZZZzzzz--
What stinks? (sniffsniff) Oh.
Needed that. Feel clean now.
(scrunchscrunch) (milk) No snap. No crackle. No pop. Corn flakes. Blech. Screw 'em. Asset my ass.
Oh. Here we go. Oh, oh. Cold. Cold. Rocky road. Syrup? Chocolate? Chocolate? Hmm. Keurig? Keurig! (stabstab) (bitebite) Nfff. (sprinklesprinkle) Ah, daytime tv. Old friend. (click) Syria. Nope. Nope. No current events. Hrm. One dollar, Drew. You're no Bob. I'm your son! Thanks, Spanish I. Tebow, Lebron, Tebow. Two payments of-- (click)
Fuck it.
(knockknock)
What? (yawn)
Morning, neighbor.
What!
Cup of sugar?
Seriously?
And maybe...
What are you? A narc?
Just a little. Like one.
One? Wait here.
(taptap)
Here. One.
Thanks.
(sniffsniff) Well, okay. Now what? Lighter? Matches? Matchbook somewhere? Shit. Fuck fuck fuck.
Stove.
(ringring) Hello. Sis. No. You. No. No. No. Can't. You heard? How? Seriously? I'm fine. Perfect? For you, maybe. Fine. Yes. Fine. I said fine. You heard me.
Settle down. No, no. Why? Because... work. Hard-working asset. Good. Great.
Taxi = $$.
Mom? (hug)
xoxo
- Status