A teeny tiny rant.

What is up with libraries? I do not have the space or the money to actually buy books, so I kind of rely on the library. But the kind of book I like is either horror or experimental fiction (in fact, horror is often experimental but they put it with the horror because they don’t know how else to categorise it) and the bulk of fiction in libraries are either crime or Chick lit, both of which I find to be the most dull and predictable sorts of books. It’s like how most of the stuff they play on the radio is fucking Take That or Shane Ward. Just because the majority of people are either too scared to break away from the crowd or too stupid to appreciatiate anything that makes them think or tries to make a statement…I mean, where does that leave me? I won’t write normal popular fiction, only weird experimental stuff. I could, but it bores the shit out of me.

Uuaaaggghhhhhhh!!!

I really do not like the thought of having to drag myself out of my lovely warm bed in the icelike temperatures in the middle of the night (7am) tomorrow. Still, only 10 days to go…

Uhhhhh…

Screwed

Ok, so I totally screwed Nanowrimo up this year. I think I ought to be forgiven, considering that I was rehearsing for a play every day for 6 days of the month, went out getting drunk on 3 days of the month, was in a play for 2 days of the month and was otherwise engaged (out with friends not getting drunk, watching DVD’s or reading). That didn’t leave me with many days really. And I was behind from the start, and I know that’s no excuse, but I’m still trying to get over…you know….

Anyway, I messed it up totally. I wrote a total of about 10,000 words on 2 different stories during the entire month. And they were both shit. But at least I had the experience of failure. And I haven’t blogged either. I know. But hey, life is goood. 14 days of having to get up at 7am and then I’m free (until January the 2nd). I love the job I’m in now, but I hate having to get up in the middle of the night to get to Nottingham.

 So, for the simple reason that I’m going to have a lot more chance of actually doing this, my challange now is to write 50,000 on any fiction during december. It doesn’t matter if I write 50 stories of 1000 words, or one long story or three stories of 17000 wordsm, 50,000 words of anything and I win. I’m not going to completely fail at this. I’m a Capricorn. I will not lose. 

I guess I’m going to fail at this now.   

Day 4 –

November 3

Well, I am doing precisly half as well as I should be. I missed Day 1 completely, wrote 1200 words on day two, wrote 1100 on day three, and today I’ve written 1000 words. I’m getting worse!!! How can that be? How is that even possible? And Ian is actually writing a novel, as opposed to a farce, like what I’m doing.

But hey, read my novel. It’s probably not as bad as I think it is! November 3

Darker Shade Of Pale

too many pieces to escape the darkness,
clean swept,

black ink mirror

see the light reflected in the pool, more numbers and colours than you dare to name, all the things you can’t hold in your hand, they slip right through,
they slip right through,
oil slick,

through the world,
so fast you can barely see them, and the moment that you do is the moment they are lost for ever.

black rain,
past the pale white skin of a torn fruit, grey dirt filled streaks, beautiful rain
the skin, the metal, my tears,
the rivers of grit,
this is me standing here in the rain,

water falling over my face,

the place I hide, as I look up at the heavy purple skies,
melting me whole with their shards of of glass.

can’t you feel it pressing down?

the years that have been, and the years yet to come, the sadness and the pain that lingers,

a waiting shadow, biding it’s time til the moment when it all comes crashing down,

the moments we live for,

as the rain keeps on falling.