Friday, February 26, 2016

2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play. 

Sure, I guess you could take it that way. Feel the wake and wind and the ocean spray, salty. Unmoored, that's what it seems like, backtrack, let's all give our pennies back. Streamline. Don't always assume assumptions wrong, the words of my heart are a doo wop song. False and modern, man, look at all the angles. Angelic.

I'm not going to smile, nor be apologetic. I get it, it's fetid, it's downright pathetic. But these rules weren't given to all in kind, you smile and sure as hell don't mind. I'm in a battlefield. I'm standing in the sun too long, screaming. 


Goddamn, you never listen. 

Long ambition, short con - you got 'em both wrong. I am the seething underbelly. I am the scared kid, quiver-jelly. Don't move, you're harder to track. And that's what happens, we always come back. Why? 

Hell, ain't no place left to be.

Not one bit of peace, no, not for me. You can be my one true epiphany. And I'll smirk while you shirk all your self-righteous works. Sorry, I guess I'm just one of the jerks. 


And you're just like me.

See?



ATTENTION, I WILL IN AND OUT MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo

Friday, February 19, 2016

2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play. 

Oh, it must be awful hard to be nascent dancer, twirling through a world shattered by frailty of mind, hiding in the corners where old memories used to live. That doesn't make it any easier to watch, and it doesn't make it wrong that sometimes it all just gets you mad as hell. It's not fair. From either side. And there is never an easy answer. 

When the brain foot slips, the slope is a son of a bitch. And you don't know, so - hell - now, you're a detective and a friend and a lover except you're the only one who remembers that. Right? Who the hell knows.

There are moments when there is a piercing clarity, when a rough hand wraps itself around your bird hands, and the combined strength births a kind of battlefield optimism. There is no winning the war, but there will be moments of heroism, there will be fear and there will be minor victories. You will lose ground, and you will eventually lose everything. Put up the white flag. 


Bury the purple heart along with the stumbling brain.

ATTENTION, I WILL IN AND OUT MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo

Friday, February 12, 2016

2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play. 

Just pull the lever if you’re so clever – see what falls out and what stays. Figure out why the morning birds sound so gay. Me? I plum run out of shit to say. I’m done with it. I’m moving on. You can have everything when I’m gone. I’ll be out in the desert with the bleached skulls and cactus statues. I’ll be breathing dust and staying quiet. I made enough noise. I’m done now.

It’s not something that can be taught, and it sure ain’t something that can be bought. It’s more complex than that. It’s simpler, too. And you can feel it, like putting the wrong foot in the wrong shoe.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re gonna do it. One of these days. When you’ve run out of games to play. Talk to me then, and I’ll tell you the same. It’s a trick pony what ain’t got no name. It runs in circles, chasing it’s tail. It won’t listen to your commands. It doesn’t care about ticket sales. But it’s what you got. When all else fails. You just pull the lever. See what comes out.


That’s what it’s all about.

ATTENTION, I WILL IN AND OUT MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo

Friday, February 5, 2016

2 minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play. 

It wasn't her fault, not really. There was so much at stake, gut-ache, god, it was all so confusing. The lights and the hair, Momma, she don't care. And she don't want to be your puppet. Don't want to be your babydoll. No more Sundays at the mall. That's all.

It gets twisted when family gets competitive, it's a slow-growth sedative. It makes you do crazy things and think they make perfect goddamn sense. Buy another tiara? Why not. Earrings to match?


You betcha.

And it will catch her. That's the tragedy. In some lonely room, it will all catch up to her because she'll look in a full length mirror. And all she'll see there? Body. Smile. Hair.

She won't see a girl with a wry sense of humor and she won't become a woman who truly laughs. Because you needed bragging rights, and you tried to make it right. Right?


Right...

ATTENTION, I WILL IN AND OUT MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo