What is the mood I seek? That is a fairly hard question. One might say, I seek the macabre. To disgust, shock, scare and horrify. But that would be untrue. The mood I seek is that of revelation. Of truth. My mental model of the world is based on what I consider irrefutable, sometimes harsh, truths. Truths that people do not want to admit to, but exist nonetheless. I like, admire, and seek to exemplify those works which dig at the so called “dirty” heart of humankind or indeed of life in general.

But, to do so is difficult. One cannot just say “such and such a thing is true” or “this is what you must believe.” People do not respond well to that sort of diatribe. You have to coax them, startle them, or somehow guide them along a path to an idea. You must force them to reveal the idea to themselves. Only then will they know it is true. Writers have been doing this since before we can remember. The world of literature has been exposing these truths time and time again. But in animation… it is rare that I see this happen. Sometimes it does. Don’t get me wrong. But not nearly as often.

And this is what I wish to do. Almost all of the stories I tell (written or digital) has dealt with something along this line. Though really, I don’t think of it in such terms. In my head, I usually think: “This is what I think and this is what I feel. Now how can I abstract it so that others may draw the same conclusions.”

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“Why don’t you write something nice for a change?”

That’s what she said.

And he said.

And hell, even I used to say – until I realized that I didn’t like nice and pleasant stories. They’re bland and uninteresting and at best they’re useful for teaching young children how to read. .

But what the hell. Let’s give it a shot. I’ll do my best to tell a pleasant story.

v This is where the story begins.

There once was a rabbit. No, let’s make him a white bunny. And fluffy and cute. But let’s not give him a name because a name implies too much and anyway, it doesn’t matter what he’s called because the first thing you say when you see him is “awww” and his mother never would have named him that because rabbits can’t make that sound in the first place.

The bunny was sitting in the middle of a meadow. There were a few trees here and there. The sun was shining, There was a light breeze and a river sparkling in the distance. The bunny had just eaten. It was… pleasant. All of a sudden the wind shifted and the bunny shot up, alert. His cute little nose wiggled and his chubby tailed twitched. “But, what is this?” you may ask. “But you said this was going to be a nice story,” you may argue.

Read the rest of this entry »

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Today, I had a crêpe.

Delicious crêpe, golden brown, sitting inside the bowl. I gazed at it with adoration. It was big and I was healthy. I loved the sweet, stinking aroma that rose from the crêpe. The brown sludge that oozed from the sides, was a little off-putting though.

I nibbled on it gently, creamy goodness cascading down my throat.

And then I flushed the toilet.

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Thinking about how people communicate, how they connect. Over time, it constantly evolves. I’m attempting to create a digital-mental connector.

It’s here.

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huge beautiful woman

her delicious heaven

down here

take bite

intoxication

i’ve seriously been slacking here. but last two days have been too busy.
here’s a poem made with 11 words i chose at random. damn it i still have to put up that story i promised. tonight. maybe.

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I’ll actually revisit these at some point, but these are the first 3 ideas I have for thesis stories. In the end I’ll probably combine their best elements.

Idea:

Time. It’s like a warm explosion of sunlight. This hesitation makes for a flare a constant state of change this thing. And then there is the other on the horizon. Hovering. But slowly drawing closer and pushing the other away. Like balance except it orbits in circles.

Idea:

There is a rather enjoyable feeling to chewing a piece of gum. A gnashing a thrasing of the teeth that is confident even as the teeth destroy themselves through repetitive motion. The stringy strands that sing, stretch and *pop*. The bubbles that vanish even before they appear. There is a manchild masochist in the bubbles. It appears he likes being chewed on.

Idea:

A shadow. Pool of darkness to be stepped in. Consumes. You are fearful. You are brave. It seeps in through the cracks. Only when you take it on and absorb it and absorb you do you die and survive.

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Today was a pretty busy day. So i’ll just do a sort of freewrite. Whatever pops into my head. I’ll attempt to make it more or less coherent though. No story bumbling about inside my head. Which is pretty bad considering I have to make up a few for thesis tomorrow.

Ha.

my laughter rebounds off the walls, filling the room with a senseless chill of dread. Much like the butter free curls on a princess, the brown dog finds the quick fox sainted and fainted in nightly glory. this isn’t exactly a new song, but then again what is. all that has come before has come before and all that has come after has come before too, but then again what is life, if not that. this peanut butter sandwhich which lies in my nose is rather large and uncomfortable and sticky too and also, it smells like peanut butter which is of a consistency which reminds me of poo and the dreary sound of molasses running down a wall. after being thrown there.

thrown there with so much pizaaz. so much flash, vim and vigor that one might wonder, what, what. in a better world if it had not been revealed to be a master. this lumpless turn that i drop on the paper. i still call it paper even though it is digital and ink, if archaic, is a medium which the old folks use the subjugate the new. this virtuoso masturbation is a mental freedom only afforded to the stiff masses in their phallic symbols and their massive e-peens of glory.

oh dear. i was supposed to keep this coherent. well i guess i’ll just call it a freewrite at that.

day after tomorrow, a real story. i promise.

and because i promised, so it i must keep.

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My idea of posting a new written thing every day is going through a bit of fail. I will perservere though. Yesterday I wrote something, but didn’t post it here. Tonight i will continue strong! However, in spirit I’m still winning. I’m averaging approx. 1 writing per day.

This is what I did last night. A bit of a cop out but… meh

It’s Friday night and

I have nothing to do.

I find

myself

at loose ends.

Once upon a time,

this would have distressed me.

Now

it’s a bit of relief.

Perhaps this is what

they call “getting older.”

Or perhaps it has something to do with my constantly busy life.

In any case I grow restless.

I just finished my last book.

It takes a

long

long

time

for a minute

to pass

on a clock that doesn’t tick.

It’s time for some mischief.

I need you

- you -

to guide me.

Tell me, O wise ones.

What should I do?

I could go kill a bottle

but I [never]

drink alone.

I could call up a friend

but its a hassle

to press

that button on the phone.

Besides its friday night.

They’re probably not

alone.

There’s always masturbation

which is meta.

And meta.

And though it can pause cancer,

I’ll end up in the same position.

It’s 9.45.

Help me.

I don’t know what to do.

Or call me.

You know the number.

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she is the queen…
and the troops are coming to get her.
roaring and thundering through
the night, they ride down the
backwood ways. she is the queen and
her hair
flows like silver. shutter windows close
as the hooves come crashing down.
she is a queen and
her blood will flow like water.
little does she know.
soon they will show.

inspired by carolina

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Thinking about modules and how different seperate elements combine to make whole complete elements. Which then in turn become modules that can used for other things.

Here’s the sound. ~link~.

I mixed a reading of “The Applicant” by Sylvia Plath I found on youtube with a remix I found on ccMixter by mogantj.

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