#1
help, i just sat my libido on fire.

bar, bar
drink, drink
smoke, smoke
choke, choke.
i'm going to write this stupid night down:

particular movement in peculiar places,
and vice versa.
the black dress moves swiftly past,
and they all linger
for a moment to waft the
scents that follow.

lustful beauty:
faster than the speed of smell,
and easily repelled by rude eyes -
only when she gets the feeling that
she's better than you, though.
the acquiescence of her presence
is managed by a sustaining will
to keep good reputation in a room
full of animals.

she moves from male to male,
trying to find a specimen worthy
of her companionship.
she unknowingly crosses over
into my territory,
and i send a spiteful smile to the
rest of the herd.

"what are you doing?"

writing.

"...writiiiiing, what?"

poetry.

"in a bar? in, Fat Patty's?"

why not?

"it makes you look like you're lonely."

well i'm glad you've come to my rescue.

"haha, is this the usual way you meet new people?"

no, i suppose not...
do you have a, "usual" way you meet new people?
because that seems kind of boring.

"...are you writing down everything i'm saying?"

yes. but you're only on this page.
the people behind you are on the next page.

"i thought poetry was just about like, nature and crap."

nature seems most vulnerable when you feel like
you're less than human, so i'll save that for closing time.
...and the feces, haha...well that's just disgusting.
tell me, are you a pervert?

"haha...nooo?..."

am i making you uncomfortable?

"i'm fine. you seem interesting, though."

i'm glad you think so.

blahblahblahblahblah. juggajawiggabuggabluestonesonthethroneofazoned-outking.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

scribble scribble, drink drink.
ALL THE WORLD U MISS IN A BLINK.


she left the bar with me, i'm getting laid tonight.

this is a black city, a deceitful accommodation.
trash on the sidewalk, i'm going to break a window
because i'm mad and don't know why.
she thinks it's cool though;
apparently i'm interesting.
we snuck onto someone's back porch
and fucked very loud and public.

"are you going to write about this part?"

no, i promise.

she pulled me back into her and loved me some more.
nothing to be made of this;
just, particular movement in peculiar places.
and vice versa.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
Last edited by ottoavist at Dec 31, 2008,
#4
I call your bluff.


Poets don't get laid

This is a beautiful notebook entry (some people are sensitive to the "journal" nomenclature - I kind of am, too), and I can imagine the situation in front of me, because it was told precisely from that perspective - observational first person, if you will.

The segway was great - it's very novelesque, for you to be writing, and she comes and talks to you - so you're either in the situation writing or the writing is the author's - the novelist, perhaps, setting the scene, defining the mood, from out there in this-is-a-good-pen-I'll-play-God-with-it land.

I'm following your night, wondering if you're writing in the middle and in the process of said night or if it was written afterward from that point of view - perhaps this has to do with the constant/consistent? changing of the tenses.

None of this is editable, despite what editors may think. If it is indeed true, then it is just that: truth, and real life, cannot be changed - and if it is not true, it can be told as truth, and is convincing enough that not many would question it's validity, thus making it still, indeed, impervious to the editors pen and becomes, both by default and by virtue, perfect.
#5
Ridiculous, poets get laid all the time. I wooed my girlfried with song and written word.

Anywho, this was a truly gorgeous piece of writing. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of this. You captured the characters so wonderfully, they seemed to come alive on the page.
#6
thank you guys, so much.
except for the first guy who commented - thank you, only a little.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#7
"it makes you look like you're lonley."
Typo; lonely?

Loved it though, as others have said.
#9
Everything up until the "blah blah blah" bit was gorgeous. I think you've captured an essence of a scene without making it overly descriptive or emotive, which contributed to the piece in this case.

I thought the latter part of the piece (apart from the very end) was a bit weaker... I would have liked it to be more open for interpretation, and I thought the paragraph about the city was a bit redundant.

To be honest though, it's not that of a big deal, because I love how your writing always comes off so original and convincing and honest. It just works.

Yet another great piece of writing from you, K.
This is not a pipe
#10
Brilliant, I dont like much on here, but the free form, free spirit of this caught me.

Its 100% true, dont edit this!

There are weak parts and strong parts but. it. just. works!

Fantastic
#11
Quote by ginjaninja
"it makes you look like you're lonley."
Typo; lonely?
*shhhh!* lol.

Guys I can't tell you how much your thoughts mean to me.
Thank you.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#12
Quote by ottoavist
help, i just sat my libido on fire.

is managed by a sustaining will
to keep good reputation in a room
full of animals.

keep her good reputation just works better, one more word or not.

she moves from male to male,
trying to find a specimen worthy
of her companionship.
she unknowingly crosses over
into my territory,
and i send a spiteful smile to the
rest of the herd.

It feels here like a little bit a magic was missing from the whole build up to the conversation. You're talking about her, we know what she's like, but maybe a little bit more description to really cement her character as an opposite... Some more friction between the two to warrant awkward silences that were portrayed well in the conversation and to warrant a turn around, more sticking ending.


"what are you doing?"

writing.

"...writiiiiing, what?"

poetry.

"in a bar? in, Fat Patty's?"

I'm sure there's got to be a way to not say both of these. I don't think someone would actually say both. If they're both in the bar, they know what she means.


why not?

"it makes you look like you're lonely."

well i'm glad you've come to my rescue.

I know a guy who spends his whole life (seemingly, at least) sat in the corner of a bar called the cornerhouse. It's a usual hangout for upper middle class film snobs and he enjoys that setting for writing his political poetry in. New bar staff have mistakenly thought he worked there before.

Anyway, I think something like that but with the character. Just a quick quip would spice this up and cement his character again.


"haha, is this the usual way you meet new people?"

no, i suppose not...
do you have a, "usual" way you meet new people?
because that seems kind of boring.

"...are you writing down everything i'm saying?"

yes. but you're only on this page.
the people behind you are on the next page.

"i thought poetry was just about like, nature and crap."

nature seems most vulnerable when you feel like
you're less than human, so i'll save that for closing time.
...and the feces, haha...well that's just disgusting.
tell me, are you a pervert?

"haha...nooo?..."

am i making you uncomfortable?

"i'm fine. you seem interesting, though."

i'm glad you think so.

blahblahblahblahblah. juggajawiggabuggabluestonesonthethroneofazoned-outking.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I'm reading this piece out. Stop that silliness.

scribble scribble, drink drink.
ALL THE WORLD U MISS IN A BLINK.


she left the bar with me, i'm getting laid tonight.

this is a black city, a deceitful accommodation.
trash on the sidewalk, i'm going to break a window
because i'm mad and don't know why.
she thinks it's cool though;
apparently i'm interesting.

the mad idea could be extended. You have so many ideas that could be extended to really bring power, and instead you're using them for varnishing.

we snuck onto someone's back porch
and fucked very loud and public.

"are you going to write about this part?"

no, i promise.

she pulled me back into her and loved me some more.
nothing to be made of this;
just, particular movement in peculiar places.
and vice versa.

Idea should have been stronger in the first place to warrant repetition. It's not bad though, eh.


Need more, just ask. I hurried the last bit since I have to go now
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#13
thank you so effing much, Katherine.
that's exactly what i needed.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#14
The beginning is bogged down and boring, to be blunt. The problem is you seem too detached from what you're writing. There's some nice imagery and interesting wording but the way you set it up you've already essentially told us you were just setting the scene, making it infinitely less exciting.

Good read after that. Engrossing.
On the eight day we spoke back...

let there be sound.