Writing & Writers

“This love is only gonna break your heart”

via: WeHeartIt

Undesired, I feel that I am left free falling. Falling. Falling. Crashing. Tumbling. Thrashing against the rocks, tossed by the waves. Gnarled upon the stones. The salt washes away my sin.

I started thinking more like Donovan – the character, not the friend. Meanwhile, I write the skeletons for “Squares” even though I’m unsure where that project is going or whether JD is still up for it. I stopped texting him and he hasn’t been around much online. Apparently, he’s gone soul searching. I’d rather hear it from the horses mouth – I’ve been stung by the scorpion one too many times.

I’m on Kathryn’s storyline, still. I’m working my way around a wall about what drives her to her all-so-predictable suicide attempt to her letting Miguel go. I give myself some pats on the back with Hope’s storyline, being that I’ve managed to prove that even the most pious can be corrupted by one’s own need to be free.

Discoveries of late have left me a little crestfallen; though, I hate myself for letting something as infantile as that for bringing down my high spirits. I’m still a good friend; I know it. Even though I don’t think some people think that, I still see myself as a caring person – damn the events of the past.

It’s stupid. It’s silly. I’m twenty-seven-years-old – I shouldn’t be all butt-hurt over it. But I am human, aren’t I? Admitted, a rather over-emotional one.

Writing & Writers

Reliving to recreate history

"They're fake."

There are things I want to regret. Like not being more adventurous when I was a teenager. Or like losing my virginity on the floor of Carmike theater while my – at the time – best friend watched on. I say want to regret because I don’t regret those things. In fact, I really don’t pay much attention to shit like that because it’s not important to me. Just another experience in this whole life ordeal.

I have this deepening feeling that I’ve dug my grave and now I must lie in it. I think a lot of it has to do with writing “Squares” –  I’ve been writing the “treatments” for each chapter before I start the dialogue/comic script; my only hope is that JD’s still game with this – I haven’t spoken to  him in a while.

Speaking of “Squares,” I’ve been rethinking how the set up should be. While this is a reality base comic and not a typical comic book – you know, superheroes and such – I do want to focus on experimental elements. I want the layout to be something both the artist (JD, if he’s still up for it) and I can have some fun with. Bridge we’ll cross when the time comes.

I’ve listened to a lot of dance music lately – for some weird reason, it’s the only music I can write to, no matter the topic. Like any writing session, however, I’m making an “inspirational” playlist of music that would go great in the “Squares” world. That’s a task in of itself.

While I’m more of a fan of the Bubble Sci fi Remix, this song has been on a constant loop in my head. From some odd reason, every time I listen to this song, I always come back to a recycled character I penned a few years back. He didn’t have a name then, but now I’m thinking of calling him Donovan – not after a friend of mine, mind you. I thought him up on day and put him in the corner because he wasn’t behaving. Like most of my characters, he ran rampant. Sadly, however, I never released him from the clutches of the corner.

These days, the character has picked up a trait his original form didn’t have – killing people. I just don’t know how to go about it, which is why I never used him just developed his personality.

Before I go, one last thing. Last Saturday, I was out with Jyg, Izzy, Esmer and Jerry. We were wandering about when they decided to go to Rue 21. I didn’t want to go there, so I went to other stores. Stopping by Marshalls first and then heading over to Hobby Lobby to see what they had in crafts wood. I’ve deduced that it would probably be cheaper if I bought wood at Lowes.

When Jyg and Izzy came to join me, they didn’t bring Jerry and Esmer. I texted the latter where we were and they came to meet us. Because I knew they’d probably have a hard time finding us, I went to look for them. Before doing so, I saw a girl wearing these bulky glasses. I thought nothing of them, but I did do a double take. Something was off. When I met up with Jerry and Esmer, I saw the girl again. This time I knew I wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t wearing glasses, she was wearing just frames.

“Damn hipster,” Jerry said after I mentioned how she wasn’t wearing glasses – he noticed it, too.

I know I did a lot of stupid things when I was a teenager that I should regret, but Jesus H. Christ – being visually impaired wasn’t an in thing.

Writing & Writers

So Called Life

Things aren’t looking good at a certain baseball stadium with a certain manager and a certain plan to hire other workers and not rehiring the ones who busted their asses last year to ensure a job. We’ve been down this road before, with the stadium deciding to save money – Workforce ultimately pays for all those hires. Back in 2008, the stadium didn’t hire the original staff because they didn’t want to pay us. Instead, they went to Workforce and grabbed a bunch of people. At the end of the season, the Workforce hires not only stole money from the stadium, but they also stole merchandise. Apparently, they didn’t get the memo.

My former supervisor tells me that I might have a job there, but only me. The friends I made last year – workers who worked just as hard as me – aren’t coming back. Nor is my mother. I don’t think I want to work with a bunch of ex-cons and juvenile delinquents. In the meantime, I’m looking for other work. There’s no way that I can work there guilt free.

I haven’t posted anything for a while. I’ve been too busy creating characters, setting up scenes and hoping to get a plot outline. So far, I’m molding out the first chapter. Though I think I want to work on the middle chapters first and then work on the introduction chapter and the conclusion last. That way I can slip in the elements of the ending before hand. That way we know what will happen before it happens without knowing it – see Naked Lunch and Watchmen.

I slacked off last weekend to zombie out. I watched and read nothing but zombie related material. Mostly because it was Easter weekend. This week, however, I got a few ideas jotted down about the course of things. I’m hoping to make this as read as possible, but emotions keep getting in the way. Like I said, this is something personal. Something I didn’t think I’d ever get around to doing. I just hope I see this through.

Writing & Writers

Joker hearts Jolyn

Joker ❤ Jolyn

I started working out on plot outlines today to get the feel of how the story should progress. Each chapter will have its own plot that will stitch itself to the bigger picture. This isn’t the hard part for me. It’s like when I write my skeletons – short stories just focusing on the action, containing minimum dialogue.

Enough about that, though. I was feeling optimistic for a while now. I had a recurrence, however, on Sunday when I was reading something that left my mood deflated. It quickly passed when Jyg, Izzy and I went on the nature walk. It’s not entirely spring yet, but there was enough flowers to snap pictures of. However, the lack of butterflies was more than depressing. It cleared my head of certain things, wrapped my mind around a storyline between two characters with similar issues as mine – I won’t go into detail, but the issue isn’t written verbatim, mind you.

There are other issues I want to cover, but it’s best if I don’t cram the whole lot of them into this single storyline. By the way, there are other ideas in my head.

I think the best thing to do is just write about it so it’s not longer a part of me. It was in Kinky Friedman’s book that I learned that writing about something real might make it go away – make it vanish.

Writing & Writers

“For all you lonely boys, I will be president”

In ecstasy, there is often a sense of heat — filled with immense love — that permeates the body. This warmth seems to emerge from the seat, flares in the belly, and rises upward, fanning out at the heart. As this fire moves through the body, it also moves through the awareness, consuming all thoughts (or, more accurately, the tremors from which thoughts emerge). This fire burns away even the thought of “I” — only the sense of this living flame remains.

This is such a wonderful fire that mystics often describe it as a flame of love, so enchanting that, like the moth, you want to dart in and be utterly consumed. (via)

Like any good story, this one starts with a fire and ends with a fire. The flames overlapping the illusions of happiness, the false sense of security.

It’s not a story about love, but one of lusts and loss. A story about traditions and expectations. About how we dig these holes that are now our beds. The choices we make that map our paths to who we are. The consequences of allowing others to define who we are. The need to surround ourselves with the familiar and beg that it will never change.The sideshow attractions of the freakish nature of our minds.

This isn’t a story about how things work out in the end. This isn’t a story about how things will fall into place no matter how much we fuck up because we always carry the joker wild in our pockets. This isn’t a story about beauty or the ugly. It isn’t about being straight out or cynical.

This is a story about our inabilities, no matter how much we want something badly, no matter how hard we attempt to keep the walls from falling, the strings from slipping our grips, the ceiling caving in, the world breaking our backs – no matter how much we change, make up our minds, rethink and reevaluate the world, we can never truly escape ourselves.

This is my story. This his story. This is your story. I hope it all works out in the end.

Writing & Writers

“porque ellos son de cielo, ellos son del aire”

I’ll never be the world’s greatest writer, but I’m allowed this task. I’ve been busy taking my notes – which I finished the bios and character descriptions on Saturday – and most of my attention is being used to see this through. I’m going to start working on plot and subplots this week. Hopefully, however, Jyg and I (and possibly Izzy) are going to take a stroll down the nature path tomorrow. It’s no Santa Anna, but at least it’s closer.

Jyg and I finally watched the series finale (I always feel weird saying series when I mean season) of Skins and started watching Moral Orel on Saturday, as well. Jyg’s never seen the latter so I’m introducing her to the 12-minute TV show from Adult Swim.

Most of the day, however, was spent outside where she read Freud and I worked on “Squares.” I explained what I was planning to do with each character and how the story will flow to the final chapter. I also explained that I was concluding it with an open ending just in case I want to use them again.

Hopefully, I can meet up with JD this coming week to discuss some things. I promised him a detailed description, but decided against that. I’m going to give him the bios plus the short list descriptions, giving him some air to breathe. We’ll have to come to an agreement in the end how each character should look, anyway. It’s something we should be comfortable with.