Saturday, August 13, 2016
New Driver.
The old wagon driver has been fired. He kept letting me take off my seat belt and hop off. What a careless individual. The new driver seems a little more responsible with his passengers so the next ride should be a good one.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Keeps getting longer.
Dear Wagon Driver,
I humbly apologize for jumping off again. I'm trying to catch up again and will probably meet you at one of the next couple bends in the road but for now, just don't leave me totally. I promise we'll meet again.
I humbly apologize for jumping off again. I'm trying to catch up again and will probably meet you at one of the next couple bends in the road but for now, just don't leave me totally. I promise we'll meet again.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Creepy Pasta
THUCK!
Another clean and effortless kill. No second swing needed. Executioner liked that. He watched the head roll away to an upright position facing him. Its expression was not one of remorse, pain or abject terror like most of his kills but it was one of morbid curiosity. Executioner thought nothing of it as he waited for the next prisoner sentenced for death.
THUCK!
Sharpen the blade. Clean the blade. Sharpen the blade. Clean the blade. Executioner's duties were simple. He liked simplicity. On occasion he would be called upon to swing the blade. He watched the head from his latest kill roll next to the first head, once again facing him with maniacal glee on its face.
THUCK!
The crowd always murmured on execution days. Executioner rarely registered the noise. Rarely registered the crier shouting out crimes and condemnations. Ignored the cries of the guilty. The latest head rolled away and rested like the others, facing him with fascinated horror.
Executioner went to itch his nose found he couldn't. Must be more tired than he thought. He tried again to no avail. His back started to hurt.
". . .guilty of murder!"
Sounds about right he thought.
". . .poor souls!"
Yep.
Executioner looked at the heads. There were a lot more them than he realized. A whole crowd of them. All looking at him.
". . .couldn't quit!"
Well, yes. It was his job.
"Death!"
THUCK!
New Executioner watched the head of Old Executioner roll away. The crowd roared. He ignored it. The crier called for the next prisoner. He barely heard it. He leaned on the hilt of the blade. He thought about how tremendously sharp it was.
Another clean and effortless kill. No second swing needed. Executioner liked that. He watched the head roll away to an upright position facing him. Its expression was not one of remorse, pain or abject terror like most of his kills but it was one of morbid curiosity. Executioner thought nothing of it as he waited for the next prisoner sentenced for death.
THUCK!
Sharpen the blade. Clean the blade. Sharpen the blade. Clean the blade. Executioner's duties were simple. He liked simplicity. On occasion he would be called upon to swing the blade. He watched the head from his latest kill roll next to the first head, once again facing him with maniacal glee on its face.
THUCK!
The crowd always murmured on execution days. Executioner rarely registered the noise. Rarely registered the crier shouting out crimes and condemnations. Ignored the cries of the guilty. The latest head rolled away and rested like the others, facing him with fascinated horror.
Executioner went to itch his nose found he couldn't. Must be more tired than he thought. He tried again to no avail. His back started to hurt.
". . .guilty of murder!"
Sounds about right he thought.
". . .poor souls!"
Yep.
Executioner looked at the heads. There were a lot more them than he realized. A whole crowd of them. All looking at him.
". . .couldn't quit!"
Well, yes. It was his job.
"Death!"
THUCK!
New Executioner watched the head of Old Executioner roll away. The crowd roared. He ignored it. The crier called for the next prisoner. He barely heard it. He leaned on the hilt of the blade. He thought about how tremendously sharp it was.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Fear in a single word.
Change.
Change is frightening. Its taking the everyday, the norm and just flipping that bitch out the window. Taking what you're used to and comfortable with and removing it. Its different, its new, its not what you're used to. On some level it sucks.
Change for me is coming and its coming in a gigantic way. I'm moving again about a week after this post. New town, new bills, new friends. Everything I hold dear is going away for what I perceive as new and unknown. Its scary as hell.
At the same moment though, I'm looking forward to it. The adventure of an all new experience excites me. Who will I meet? What will I walk into? Where will I go after I get there? These are questions that can and will put off a large amount of people. I am not that type of person. I like the mystery of the new too much. There's too much out in the world to stay idle in one place and not try to see everything I can.
Still, its Change and I will admit it frightens me too. Just not enough to stop me from making it. I will be afraid as the moment comes but I will keep my chin up and look at it for what it is. Something new and exciting that I would not have experienced had I not chosen to move again.
Change is frightening. Its taking the everyday, the norm and just flipping that bitch out the window. Taking what you're used to and comfortable with and removing it. Its different, its new, its not what you're used to. On some level it sucks.
Change for me is coming and its coming in a gigantic way. I'm moving again about a week after this post. New town, new bills, new friends. Everything I hold dear is going away for what I perceive as new and unknown. Its scary as hell.
At the same moment though, I'm looking forward to it. The adventure of an all new experience excites me. Who will I meet? What will I walk into? Where will I go after I get there? These are questions that can and will put off a large amount of people. I am not that type of person. I like the mystery of the new too much. There's too much out in the world to stay idle in one place and not try to see everything I can.
Still, its Change and I will admit it frightens me too. Just not enough to stop me from making it. I will be afraid as the moment comes but I will keep my chin up and look at it for what it is. Something new and exciting that I would not have experienced had I not chosen to move again.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Music.
Music as inspiration is a good thing in most cases. Listening to to what you enjoy and having it spark a thought, an image, a train of thought to lead to anything is pretty great. Except when, at least I feel, that when the lyrics itself influences what you're thinking.
Pure instrumentals have a life of their own. Certain tones and inflections are practically programmed to respond to our minds in a certain way. Attached to lyrics they're practically writing themselves again in a way that isn't the way you've intended. Sad songs are sad. Happy are happy. Energetic are energetic. They almost write themselves.
As for writing, it can be a crutch and sometimes drift you off into somewhere you didn't want to be. As of this exact writing I have Awolnation playing in the background. I have just discovered them based of the song "Sail". I have the album playing and I do enjoy their efforts but not on the lyrical side. They're lyrics are good, don't get me wrong. I really enjoy them. When I hear words I think of what the singer wants me to think but when I want to be personally creative I can't help but absorb the singer's thoughts. I want my own, not his.
Years ago when I was in high school English, a teacher of mine asked the class to listen to a song and write what they thought. I remember it was a Metalllica instrumental. No words, just sound. Unfortunately I don't remember the song but I remember what came to me.
A soldier was running up a hill to claim it for his army. The tempo, bass and rhythm were intense and what I saw was solder storming a position. Moments later the whole song shifted to a much calmer and serene melody. Suddenly the soldier was home. He was on a porch, visiting Grandma, eating heartily and laughing with his family. A good moment. Soon after the intensity of the song came back. The same soldier was back on the hill, dying of a bullet wound. The moment of happiness was him reliving a happy moment upon realizing he was dying. He died surrounded by his brother in arms storming the same hill but living their own separate memories. All this came about by an instrumental without lyrics.
Music is glorious for ideas. It has and will inspire some pretty good and awesome material. As long as you don't focus on lyrics. Lyrics hold the story already. Forgo lyrics and a new universe of experiences will follow.
If you like to listen to music as you write like I often to, try to block out the words. Just the movement of the composition can influence a piece of work that can truly be called your own but remember where the inspiration came from if able.
Keep in mind that when writing, I could be completely fuck off wrong. That's the beauty of writing. My particular interpretation of writing could be so completely wrong from what you feel. If you hear the lyrics and see and feel something completely different from the artist's intended idea then by all means roll with it. I love that about creativity. One person's vision can and most likely will be different from another's.
Music is once again, awesome. On one level I wish I was as awesome to come up with music. On another side I'm pretty glad I can experience from the listener side. From that side I can be motivated to come up with my own ideas and express them how I'm most capable. At this point in the blog, Awolnation is actually pretty blah. =/
The point in the end, grab your inspiration where ya can. Music helps tremendously and life itself is the best point of inspiration. Take it where it comes. Music still fucking rocks though.
Pure instrumentals have a life of their own. Certain tones and inflections are practically programmed to respond to our minds in a certain way. Attached to lyrics they're practically writing themselves again in a way that isn't the way you've intended. Sad songs are sad. Happy are happy. Energetic are energetic. They almost write themselves.
As for writing, it can be a crutch and sometimes drift you off into somewhere you didn't want to be. As of this exact writing I have Awolnation playing in the background. I have just discovered them based of the song "Sail". I have the album playing and I do enjoy their efforts but not on the lyrical side. They're lyrics are good, don't get me wrong. I really enjoy them. When I hear words I think of what the singer wants me to think but when I want to be personally creative I can't help but absorb the singer's thoughts. I want my own, not his.
Years ago when I was in high school English, a teacher of mine asked the class to listen to a song and write what they thought. I remember it was a Metalllica instrumental. No words, just sound. Unfortunately I don't remember the song but I remember what came to me.
A soldier was running up a hill to claim it for his army. The tempo, bass and rhythm were intense and what I saw was solder storming a position. Moments later the whole song shifted to a much calmer and serene melody. Suddenly the soldier was home. He was on a porch, visiting Grandma, eating heartily and laughing with his family. A good moment. Soon after the intensity of the song came back. The same soldier was back on the hill, dying of a bullet wound. The moment of happiness was him reliving a happy moment upon realizing he was dying. He died surrounded by his brother in arms storming the same hill but living their own separate memories. All this came about by an instrumental without lyrics.
Music is glorious for ideas. It has and will inspire some pretty good and awesome material. As long as you don't focus on lyrics. Lyrics hold the story already. Forgo lyrics and a new universe of experiences will follow.
If you like to listen to music as you write like I often to, try to block out the words. Just the movement of the composition can influence a piece of work that can truly be called your own but remember where the inspiration came from if able.
Keep in mind that when writing, I could be completely fuck off wrong. That's the beauty of writing. My particular interpretation of writing could be so completely wrong from what you feel. If you hear the lyrics and see and feel something completely different from the artist's intended idea then by all means roll with it. I love that about creativity. One person's vision can and most likely will be different from another's.
Music is once again, awesome. On one level I wish I was as awesome to come up with music. On another side I'm pretty glad I can experience from the listener side. From that side I can be motivated to come up with my own ideas and express them how I'm most capable. At this point in the blog, Awolnation is actually pretty blah. =/
The point in the end, grab your inspiration where ya can. Music helps tremendously and life itself is the best point of inspiration. Take it where it comes. Music still fucking rocks though.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
To speak of nightmares.
Recently in my creative mind I have discovered what I feel is an oddity.
I have had nightmares before. Moments in the dead of night where I would wake trembling, sweating and generally fearing my normal day to day occurrences transformed into the surreal. Regular fears given life, given form, given creepy as fuck smiles and grins. Lately that isn't the case.
Lately my nightmares have turned interactive. Akin to interactive horror movies. Its pretty legit in my mind. I fear, I run , I perceive the horror. Yet on a totally different level I'm taking notes and relishing in the predicament I happen to be in. Two examples follow and I honestly have to say I love both of the experiences I have been privy to witness.
Experience 1.
I'm trapped in a house with a bunch of other extras. They're extras because I can't recall names or faces, they don't matter. I'm walking through a room with a 'patient' on a gurney with one of the extras by my side. Suddenly a clown bursts forth form the 'patient's' chest. On one side that's some fucked up shit. You shouldn't see that. On the other side, I loved it. Scared the crap outta me and I honestly woke up smiling. Who expects that crap? I didn't, thus it stuck with me.
Experience 2.
My companion and I, because every good story is never about 1 person, have cornered some fleshy/skeleton zombie thing in a barn about to cleanse it of evil before it takes a little girl's soul. I brand the horror with some kind of runic script and I'm about to relish victory when my accomplice who has remained nameless and faceless declares that it's not the evil I'm vanquishing that's the root of the problem but it's still alive brother which bursts into the unholy form of my nightmare. My accomplice and I run the fuck away and the dream/nightmare ends.
I wake up at the end of both of these and legitimately smiled. They were both frightening in terms of my psyche presenting visuals to fuck me over yet I saw really good story elements in them. I have yet to have a nightmare/dream that has had a plot twist in it. That was simply amazing. In example 1 I saw what should have been frightening but yet found the scare informative. What I'm afraid of can be someone else's fear and that can relate them to me. Relating to the audience is a good thing in most cases. Touching people through writing is truly a work of art and a bit of being psychic, to paraphrase the great Stephen King.
It has come to mind that at the moment my nightmares are what they are. They're interactive horror movies. I may run, hide, fight and generally experience every emotion that horror brings to the table there is a part of me that is taking notes, studying my reactions and what the evil looks like so I can write it out later for some other audience to experience that same thing.
By they way, that clown looked awesome as hell in my mind. A clown bursting through a person's chests is fucking frightening to a lot of people. To me, it was an eye opener. I try to bring it back quite often but the clown in question has gone on vacation. Oh well. I'm sure plenty of other creeps, oddities, and malcontents will pop up in my dreams to take note of and learn from. I honestly can't wait till my next 'nightmare'.
I have had nightmares before. Moments in the dead of night where I would wake trembling, sweating and generally fearing my normal day to day occurrences transformed into the surreal. Regular fears given life, given form, given creepy as fuck smiles and grins. Lately that isn't the case.
Lately my nightmares have turned interactive. Akin to interactive horror movies. Its pretty legit in my mind. I fear, I run , I perceive the horror. Yet on a totally different level I'm taking notes and relishing in the predicament I happen to be in. Two examples follow and I honestly have to say I love both of the experiences I have been privy to witness.
Experience 1.
I'm trapped in a house with a bunch of other extras. They're extras because I can't recall names or faces, they don't matter. I'm walking through a room with a 'patient' on a gurney with one of the extras by my side. Suddenly a clown bursts forth form the 'patient's' chest. On one side that's some fucked up shit. You shouldn't see that. On the other side, I loved it. Scared the crap outta me and I honestly woke up smiling. Who expects that crap? I didn't, thus it stuck with me.
Experience 2.
My companion and I, because every good story is never about 1 person, have cornered some fleshy/skeleton zombie thing in a barn about to cleanse it of evil before it takes a little girl's soul. I brand the horror with some kind of runic script and I'm about to relish victory when my accomplice who has remained nameless and faceless declares that it's not the evil I'm vanquishing that's the root of the problem but it's still alive brother which bursts into the unholy form of my nightmare. My accomplice and I run the fuck away and the dream/nightmare ends.
I wake up at the end of both of these and legitimately smiled. They were both frightening in terms of my psyche presenting visuals to fuck me over yet I saw really good story elements in them. I have yet to have a nightmare/dream that has had a plot twist in it. That was simply amazing. In example 1 I saw what should have been frightening but yet found the scare informative. What I'm afraid of can be someone else's fear and that can relate them to me. Relating to the audience is a good thing in most cases. Touching people through writing is truly a work of art and a bit of being psychic, to paraphrase the great Stephen King.
It has come to mind that at the moment my nightmares are what they are. They're interactive horror movies. I may run, hide, fight and generally experience every emotion that horror brings to the table there is a part of me that is taking notes, studying my reactions and what the evil looks like so I can write it out later for some other audience to experience that same thing.
By they way, that clown looked awesome as hell in my mind. A clown bursting through a person's chests is fucking frightening to a lot of people. To me, it was an eye opener. I try to bring it back quite often but the clown in question has gone on vacation. Oh well. I'm sure plenty of other creeps, oddities, and malcontents will pop up in my dreams to take note of and learn from. I honestly can't wait till my next 'nightmare'.
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