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Devious Journal Entry
1 min read
I'm so happy that you're all up to something. Good for all of you.
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Devious Journal Entry
1 min read
Today is 'Feverish Typing Day,' then a drive to assfuck nowhere. Expect bullshit before the afternoon is over and an angry report from the local news at the complete disregard I have for highway-bound tourist rentals. Honk honk. Everyone is in my damn way today.
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Devious Journal Entry
1 min read
Where the hell am I.
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Devious Journal Entry
1 min read
I haven't said anything in a year.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
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Writer? Who, me?
2 min read
I'm becoming disillusioned.
I blame school, the peers I have, and, shit, why not, the peers on this website. The only one I've ever valued as a writer from here is tangledweb. Sterling punches holes in all of your collective skulls, like many of the other writers I had admired here in the past, but does so without getting his account banned.
roryvincent is another exception, only I see his writing personally and we've both become reluctant to post.
I think it's that damnable browse button on the home page that does it to me as well as my critique courses. Here I deliberately put myself in pain, whereas in class I'm forced to read; both are filled with stories whose sole purpose is to invoke pity.
Go ahead, hit the browse button. It's like Stephanie Meyer and her fans took over with intermittent flecks of anime slash sprinkled in for flavor. The taste in my mouth makes my throat bleed and my nose sting.
As a result I am dedicating myself to improving the writing community here by writing things, posting them, and staying away from your fucking browse button.
How a poem about infatuation leading to cutting gets 100+ favorites is beyond me. How a story about two male characters from a book hugging up on each other gets 300+ views is beyond me. How nonsensical imagery in a single stanza, 200+ line poem about spanking it to a zombie gets even enough patience from you that warrants your attentions stupefies me.
I have two choices, as I see, write like I ought, or pander.
I'm going to write a vampire story. It's going to have L from Deathnote, naked bitches, good looking teen stars, and vernacular all up in its guts so you can quiver at the lack of imaginative talent. I need your praise.
I blame school, the peers I have, and, shit, why not, the peers on this website. The only one I've ever valued as a writer from here is tangledweb. Sterling punches holes in all of your collective skulls, like many of the other writers I had admired here in the past, but does so without getting his account banned.
roryvincent is another exception, only I see his writing personally and we've both become reluctant to post.
I think it's that damnable browse button on the home page that does it to me as well as my critique courses. Here I deliberately put myself in pain, whereas in class I'm forced to read; both are filled with stories whose sole purpose is to invoke pity.
Go ahead, hit the browse button. It's like Stephanie Meyer and her fans took over with intermittent flecks of anime slash sprinkled in for flavor. The taste in my mouth makes my throat bleed and my nose sting.
As a result I am dedicating myself to improving the writing community here by writing things, posting them, and staying away from your fucking browse button.
How a poem about infatuation leading to cutting gets 100+ favorites is beyond me. How a story about two male characters from a book hugging up on each other gets 300+ views is beyond me. How nonsensical imagery in a single stanza, 200+ line poem about spanking it to a zombie gets even enough patience from you that warrants your attentions stupefies me.
I have two choices, as I see, write like I ought, or pander.
I'm going to write a vampire story. It's going to have L from Deathnote, naked bitches, good looking teen stars, and vernacular all up in its guts so you can quiver at the lack of imaginative talent. I need your praise.
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