Glade of the King

I have too many stories going outside the computer. I really need someone to type for me. I continue to be devoted to scribbling with pen and ink. I force myself to translate my script to digital text, but I continue to find excuses to keep writing new ideas instead.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Got a lust for life...lust for life..

Never liked Iggy Pop but sometimes I gotta respect his lyrics. Is self destructive behavior character building? Will I stop stalling sometime soon? These questions and more will be answered in our next exciting episode..

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Soulful sunday

Reached 40k words in my current almost ready for production novel. Beginning to wonder what my title should be, or if I need to change the Character names.. Or if I need to go back and rethink my entire idea and development of that story line, because honestly I've only re-written this entire thing once. Maybe if I rewrite it again I can sell the original as a completely separate book. 
 Oh well still only a little more than halfway through. We'll have to see what happens.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Hating the rage waves

Like riding a surfboard right up into the rocks and pylons. You feel it going wrong, steering slowed and just starts you spinning but you are already in the current.  There's no way to avoid those jagged enemies of your skin, all the frantic paddling now will only tire your arms, you need them fresh if you're just about to try to swim out from under the raging white water. Already your knees, your prominent ankle bones are scraped and raw, something floating in the water rasps against you gone before you realize it was ground you might orient on because you're tumbling end over end bouncing the hard parts of yourself, gouging the soft.  Anyone near you at this point will suffer the same fate you can;t help  but to lash out drag them down with you because this deep into the powerful current there's nothing but instinct and terror.

 The doctor says this simple pill can fix this, this condition I don't remember having before I took the pills.  I was always a little manic, always a deep black funk waiting to happen, but was I ever this lost?  Example was moving my stuff and the powercord on my laptop caught the corner of the table.  Irritated I back up and while freeing it I drop my laptop, now I'm not even angry so much as terrified and tears form in my eyes, I don't even dare open it yet because as soon as I pick it up I want to throw it as hard as I can for daring to fall. I want to bite through the godd@mn power cord for daring to get stuck. I want to curl up and die because it's easier for me than crying.  I take my pills again and in a half hour my girlfriend dares to talk to me again because I'm like a wounded animal at theses times and I'll snap at anyone.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Friday, planting day.

Planted vegetable seeds and some various flowering plant seeds today.  My first official garden i won't run to hide if the police knock on my door.  Not too sure what I'll do with all the vegetables but I think my girlfriend and other roommates might eat them.
Have not worked on my writing at all today, was busy all morning and waited until 3pm to eat something.  Then I ate too much, so now I'm drowsy and lazy. Huh, only 5 more and a pretty girl away from being a classic, go figure..

Thursday, May 20, 2010

3 years gone by..

Wow! Three years since my last post. Can't believe this is still here.
Hmm...Updates? Is anyone still reading? I doubt it, but I need the extra motivation this might give me.  Writing my goals in public will make them more solid.

So in the past three years I have a new job I've been at over a year now. I have written 7 complete books in pen and ink in a large stack of notebooks. I have completely typed 1 1/3 , but the one I have typed has issues, so I benched it to work on the second one until I can find a way to bridge the mess I made in the middle of the first. I have quit drinking for almost an entire year, so the drunken poetry fits have been replaced with sober poetry fits.  I make more sense, but it is less exciting since I know what the poem says when I write it, not the next morning.

The job I have now allows me to write for several hours every day, but I can't type any of it so it's all going into notebooks.  I switched from bic pens to calligraphy dip pens to fountain pens which are my new favorite. This post is so boring it is no wonder I avoided coming back to this.