#1
I believe that Manchester life's been pretty Goddamned good to me, and as I sit with mates eating sloppy two-for-one pizza and hiding from the raw, pummeling weather under a shaky bus shelter, I find it easy to forget about insignificant things like the future.

The friend on my left isn't going to get her 5 A to Cs if she doesn't knuckle down and work harder, though she is clever. She wants to be a counselor because she knows the horror of living with a crappy short-term carer. The mate to her left's her brother.

The mate on the right was ****ed over by the state school system in London cause she's got bad dyslexia, but won't let it stop her, so this year she's retaking the English and doing Musical Theater at what's now 'Manchester College'. She can't sing but I'm not going to be the one to break it to her. If no one does her life will be all happily ever after just as she believes it is.

Me? I already know it doesn't matter. That if I sit here forever I'll feel better than I would in work. That that's not how it works. That I want to get on a bus to the airport, blag my way on to a plane and take a short flight to Yugoslavia or India or somewhere or anywhere that's not Britain. Leave these friends behind cause I'm a wanker and think that if I run until I'm thirty everything will fine. Find the divine and live in it, and hope these friends will want to join me when I admit I've just wasted everything I have and just want to come home and sit in the rain and complain about Manchester life again. That I love these friends more than I could say, so I won't.

People sail by in fast fast cars, happy that the rain is ours and they can lie back and drive, happy that as we cling to our pizza for protection and heat, they've got their hot air conditioning on full. That they're out on a Saturday night, already drunk driving and ready to pull. Or maybe they've got their catch in the passenger seat so they're acting all sweet and pretending to not be complete twats. Happy that they can hide behind their smiles and the booze and the bling and the bruise on their cheek and the black eye they wear because they wore the wrong clothes and some other guy dared them to fight.

But we sit. We left the dark, dark park because the brother and the singer were scared of it. Scared of the groups of hoods standing around getting shitfaced and waiting to **** someone up. Not realising that we're pretty much the same as them. However, sitting under the bus stop, this place is perfection.

Lights from the cars are passing over me like candles, corrupted by a dense but loving rain, fragments trickling down the broken lens in my eyes which sends all the infectious thoughts in to my brain. I will let them burn. I will let myself be swallowed by a mass of metal in state of the art automobiles for the sake of the silence you get when your eardrums have been busted from sticking them up inside exhaust pipes. For the sake of sitting here with friends. For the sake of happiness freezing her socks off in the leopard print skirt. The sake of strange looks from chavs as I walk the dog around the green at three in the morning, quoting all kinds of things from all kinds of great men who never came to such a place but somehow managed to release it through their fountain pens. The sake of waking in the morning choking on cig smoke with a heavy headache on my everything, lying on the sofa bed. The sake of the rumors spread against me to make me believe I was never meant to be and that these people all agree with that.

Truth is, none of these people believe a word I say so I pray for them, only for it to turn out that they're all Christian and have been praying against me since the day I was born. Their Jesus is a gangsta yo', fifteen years old and got a one year old called Enzo, cause he's a Kanye West fan but doesn't believe in naming your kid after a normal car when you could just nick a real one instead. He stacks the shelves at Tesco with chemical wine and Hovis, cause he's got no better way to gain his wealth. Bleeds over the nation but he's more than happy to sell himself. Then gets the bus home to teach his kid to be clever. He wants to get him in to the best schools and make him the coolest kid ever, but forgot to take his own GCSEs, get those five A to Cs and make his own plans. At the bus stop he stands, pay check in hand. Jesus just handed his life over to the man.

We're under the bus stop together, hiding from the pummeling of the outside weather. The chains round our necks entertain us and our maker. Though his show is improved greatly with chocolates and champagne, and sitting under the bus stop this beautiful city rain, rain, rains.


I'm bad with line breaks, so I decided, screw em. Longest thing I've ever written, so cheers to anyone who has the patience to read it. I'll repay as well as I can.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
Last edited by DigUpHerBones at Oct 9, 2008,
#2
Katie, Katie, Katie...

What can I say? That was a pretty damn good read. There are some things that I didn't like (the repetitions like 'fast fast' cars were effective would have been a hundred times more if used just once or twice) but in general it was great. Prose with a lot of internal rhyming...that's a style that I like a lot. Ben (LooK!theskyfell) or something like that - used to do that all the time.

I think you pulled it off well, just be careful for repetition in all of it's forms. I'm thinking mainly the "bus stop" at the beginning of the last stanza and at the end of the previous one, and of course the ideas in general. Starting two stanzas talking about rain make it seems like you're running circles.

This is a very unconstrained comment, but the main point is, I really dug it. I might try to get into more details later if you want, if I find the time.

take care!
#3
i hated the opening five stanzas/paragraphs, mainly because it was mimetically fallacious in it's blandness. i also hated "you", the narrator. not only do you sound nauseatingly condescending ("she can't sing but i'm not going to be the one to break it to her" made me want to punch you) but actually pretty close-minded, which is a pretty hard characteristic to pull off in a narrator. the whole description of the cars passing by having their hot air conditioning and you out there in the rain was fine, but when you started stereotyping everyone as drunk drivers and, generally, noting that their lives were far better than yours, it all got a bit much. i felt as if you were just digging for sympathy, and if i hadn't read more of your things, i would of stopped there. also, the whole repetition of the five A-C thing got a bit irritating. i know it's generally accepted to be the sixth form/college minimum entry requirement etc, but writing as if it's some kind of cut off to any further progression in life is pretty stupid and, well, wrong.

i think you got lost in your writing in the final couple of paragraphs, and it shows (in a good way). the descriptions are fantastic and the internal jesus rhyme just before the break was great. it's just much better, deeper writing.
Last edited by skagitup at Oct 7, 2008,
#4
Quote by DigUpHerBones
I believe that Manchester life's been pretty Goddamned good to me, and as I sit with mates eating sloppy two-for-one pizza and hiding from the raw, pummeling weather under a shaky bus shelter, I find it easy to forget about insignificant things like the future.


The friend on my left isn't going to get her 5 A to Cs if she doesn't knuckle down and work harder, though she is clever. She wants to be a counselor because she knows the horror of living with a crappy short-term carer. The mate to her left's her brother.
(What does A to Cs mean? I know it has something to do with school and getting good grades but that just sounds weird to me. The characters feel dead to me. Give them a name, perhaps. And a little thing, I think you mean short term career and not carer.)


The mate on the right was ****ed over by the state school system in London and didn't get her 5 A to Cs but won't let it stop her, so this year she's retaking the English and doing Musical Theater at what's now 'Manchester College'. She can't sing but I'm not going to be the one to break it to her. If no one does her life will be all happily ever after just as she believes it is.
(I dont think she'd make it in musical theater if she cant sing. they have like, auditions and stuff dont they? if anything i really wanted you to say something like "I hope she never bumps into Simon Cowell". This feels like more like an biography or a first-person novel than anything else)


People sail by in fast fast cars, happy that the rain is ours and they can lie back and drive, happy that as we cling to our pizza for protection and heat, they've got the hot hot air conditioning on full. (This is great. I love "clinging to pizza for protection" and your repetition of "fast fast" and "hot hot". Though it's probably a British thing but in the states "air conditioning" is for makingf it cooler. The "heater" is for warming up. But that's just a matter of how people call things. It might sound silly to someonre not used to that kinda thing or one with a closed mind). That they're out on a Saturday night, already drunk driving and ready to pull. Or maybe they've got their catch in the passenger seat so they're acting all sweet and pretending to not be complete twats. Happy that they can hide behind their smiles and the booze and the bling and and the bruise on their cheek and the black eye they wear because they wore the wrong clothes and some other guy dared them to fight.
(I really like this stanza. It's the first one that feels more like poetry than a bland recollection to the questoin "how was your day"? I bolded and cause i dont know if thats a typo or intentional repeat. )

But we sit. We left the dark, dark park (1. I thought you were under a bus shelter, 2. dont use a comma here it breaks from the non-comma pattern of "hot hot" and "fast fast") because the brother (i hate you calling him the brother. it feels so distant) and the singer (super distant. especially if this one is your friend. if anything, be an ass and say "sh*tty* singer since you don't really consider her to be a singer) were scared of it (scared of what? the dark, the park or the park while it's dark? just say "scared" and even combine it with the next setence and say "scared scared"). Scared of the groups of hoods standing around getting shitfaced and waiting to **** someone up. Not realising that we're pretty much the same as them. However, sitting under the bus stop, this place is perfection. (ahh so are at the bus stop. it got confusing as to where you were in the begining)


Lights from the fast fast cars are passing over me like candles, corrupted by a dense but loving rain, fragments trickling down the broken lens in my eyes which sends all the infectious thoughts in to my brain (very nicely written. i love this flow of words and images). I will let them burn. I will let myself be swallowed by a mass of metal in state of the art automobiles for the sake of the silence you get when your eardrums have been busted from sticking them up inside exhaust pipes. (you do a tense switch "are passing" > "I will" followed by a pronoun switch "I will" > "you get". I suggest somehow separating and making the "I will" phrases stand out if you still wish to use future tense. maybe put them in parentheses or something...and use yourself as the one who gets the feelings you get..."sake of the silence I get when my eardrums have been busted...") For the sake of sitting here with friends. For the sake of happiness freezing her socks off in the leopard print skirt. The sake of strange looks from chavs as you walk the dog (once again, I hate you using "you" here. either be the one that walks the dog or just say "dogwalkers" or something) around the green at three in the morning, quoting all kinds of things from all kinds of great men who never came to such a place but somehow managed to release it through their fountain pens. The sake of waking in the morning choking on cig smoke with a heavy headache on your everything, lying on the sofa bed. The sake of the rumors spread against you to make you believe you were never meant to be and that these people all agree with that.(you you you! no no no! this makes it so feelingless. so blah. make it personal to YOU. "make me believe I was never meant to be...")


Truth is, none of these people believe a word you say so you pray for them, only for it to turn out that they're all Christian and have been praying against you since the day you were born. Their Jesus is a gangsta yo', fifteen years old and got a one year old called Enzo, cause he's a Kanye West fan but doesn't believe in naming your kid after a normal car when you could just nick a real one instead. He stacks the shelves at Tesco with chemical wine and Hovis, cause he's got no better way to gain his wealth. Bleeds over the nation but he's more than happy to sell himself. Then gets the bus home to teach his kid to be clever. He wants to get him in to the best schools and make him the coolest kid ever, but forgot to take his own GCSEs, get those five A to Cs and make his own plans. At the bus stop he stands, pay check in hand. Jesus just handed his life over to the man. (this was just all over the place. jesus and kayne west? WHAT? why would christians pray against you? this really confuses me
...
After reading this a few more times i get it better now. though you give this kid's kid a name and drop kanye's name but your friends remain nameless? i dont like that for some reason. great internal rhyming though. and i like how you used "clever" again. )



We're (take out this word. "we're together" is redundant. together should stay cause of the rhyme in the next part) all under the bus stop together, hiding from the pummeling of the outside weather. The chains round our necks entertaining (scrap the "ing") us and our maker. Though his show is improved greatly with chocolates and champagne, and sitting under the bus stop this beautiful city rain, rain, rains.


I'm bad with line breaks, so I decided, screw em. Longest thing I've ever written, so cheers to anyone who has the patience to read it. I'll repay as well as I can.


Hmm. Very interesting style here. But it really felt consticted and condensed when a piece like this shouldn't.

You may not be good at line breaks (which I'm not being the judge of, I don't know your work well enought to have an opinion on that) you REALLY went to the other extreme here. The paragraph form made this often difficult to read. There are many many places where a comma (or yes, a dreaded line break) would have worked infinitely better than a period.

The first few stanzas dragged on and you introduced two characters that had no real personality and actually might not be needed for this piece. Why not alone sit and eat pizza under the bus stop? You seemed to estrange yourself from both characters anyway.

Threre are parts here that are just fabublous. But they are often masked by uneeded, superfluous verbose. And your opening sentence reminded me of a passage from those tests they make you take to evaluate your reading ability. I hated it. It makes it sound SO much more like a story. Plus is doesn't seem really to truly intoduce what you're talking about. There is nothing you say here that REALLY says that life in Manchester is "goddamned good". Seems rainy and dangerous. Where Christians pray against you.

But hey, at least you got chocolate and champagne. And that's all you really need, eh?

(c4c "Honk if You Love Peace & Quiet" when you can. Thanks!)
Last edited by Guns N Russians at Oct 7, 2008,
#5
i did like the parallel drawn from dogmatic religion and the chavvy subculture, that was pretty nice dude.
#6
Thanks people, I've changed it a it and hopefully fixed how much of a complete bastard I am, though I'm sure skag'll still want to punch me. Guess it'll still looking like it's digging for sympathy which it's really not so I'll fix it. If you could say what you think of the changes I'd be very grateful. I'll get back to you all soon.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#7
i owe you so please dont make me feel guilty by replying to me with an honest crit lol

I love it. As Skag said the repetition gets annoying. But I got lost in the storyline, which was almost bittersweet, because i enjoyed what i was reading so much i wasn't paying attention to what i was reading. Which I enjoyed because the writing itself was spectacular, the storyline wasn't that awesome, but you more than made up for that by entertaining using other devices. This is a perfect example of a good writer using all of their strengths so well that it covers up their weaknesses.
good job
#8
Thank you.

I've changed most of the repetition, but not all.

Other than the repetition and lack of storyline (this started out with the first stanza/paragraph and then just went off on one), what would you call the weaknesses? It sounds stupid for me to say but aye, I'm trying to work work work on everything.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#9
Damn you for making me work!!! Gives me something to do with my time anywya, here goes nothing...

Quote by DigUpHerBones
I believe that Manchester life's been pretty Goddamned Get rid of the capital G in Goddamngood to me, and as I sit with mates eating sloppy two-for-one pizza and hiding from the raw, pummeling weather under a shaky bus shelter, I find it easy to forget about insignificant things like the future.Not exactly bland, not exactly excitinf. Somewhere between the two. At the moment i'm getting a "so what do i care if their life's shit?" feeling. Needs to be something in here to creat a connection, something to make the reader go "Wow, I want to get to know this guy!" or "jeez, how'd it all end up down the shitter?"

The friend on my left isn't going to get her 5 A to Cs if she doesn't knuckle down and work harder, though she is clever. She wants to be a counselor because she knows the horror of living with a crappy short-term carer. The mate to her left's her brother.Now i'm bored. Nothing here is interesting. Just a very bland "the sky was blue, the dog barked, they all died, the end". Creat some interest. Explaint he characters without being so goddamn boring!

The mate on the right was ****ed over by the state school system in London cause she's got bad dyslexia, but won't let it stop her, so this year she's retaking the English and doing Musical Theater at what's now 'Manchester College'. She can't sing but I'm not going to be the one to break it to her. If no one does her life will be all happily ever after just as she believes it is. Why are you nice to the first friend, but so condescending to the second? Still boring and lifeless. But at least we have some characters now.

Me? I already know it doesn't matter. That if I sit here forever I'll feel better than I would in work. That that's not how it works. That I want to get on a bus to the airport, blag my way on to a plane and take a short flight to Yugoslavia or India or somewhere or anywhere that's not Britain. Leave these friends behind cause I'm a wanker and think that if I run until I'm thirty everything will fine. Find the divine and live in it, and hope these friends will want to join me when I admit I've just wasted everything I have and just want to come home and sit in the rain and complain about Manchester life again. That I love these friends more than I could say, so I won't. I don't like the repition of "That:" and at the moment, i'm just about falling asleep. Reading this is becoming a chore. Also, this whole stanza made no sense, was incredibly contradictory, and we still have no story or point of interest. You just seem to be empasising the fact that your a ****ing wanker and making us hate you.

People sail by in fast fast cars, happy that the rain is ours and they can lie back and drive, happy that as we cling to our pizza for protection and heat, they've got their hot air conditioning on full. That they're out on a Saturday night, already drunk driving and ready to pull. Or maybe they've got their catch in the passenger seat so they're acting all sweet and pretending to not be complete twats. Happy that they can hide behind their smiles and the booze and the bling and the bruise on their cheek and the black eye they wear because they wore the wrong clothes and some other guy dared them to fight.INTEREST!!!!!!!! Yay, took long enough. Your still a ****ing tosser, but at least we are starting to get some idea of a story here, or at least a situation and location. Best stanza so far.

But we sit. We left the dark, dark park because the brother and the singer were scared of it. Scared of the groups of hoods standing around getting shitfaced and waiting to **** someone up. Not realising that we're pretty much the same as them. However, sitting under the bus stop, this place is perfection. There's no connection with anyone but you, and at the moment, your the last person we want to be seeing the world from. Give some life to the other characters, some names, something we can connect with and help us visualise them.

Lights from the cars are passing over me like candles, corrupted by a dense but loving rain, fragments trickling down the broken lens in my eyes which sends all the infectious thoughts in to my brain. I will let them burn. I will let myself be swallowed by a mass of metal in state of the art automobiles for the sake of the silence you get when your eardrums have been busted from sticking them up inside exhaust pipes. For the sake of sitting here with friends. For the sake of happiness freezing her socks off in the leopard print skirt. The sake of strange looks from chavs as I walk the dog around the green at three in the morning, quoting all kinds of things from all kinds of great men who never came to such a place but somehow managed to release it through their fountain pens. The sake of waking in the morning choking on cig smoke with a heavy headache on my everything, lying on the sofa bed. The sake of the rumors spread against me to make me believe I was never meant to be and that these people all agree with that. Well, just ****ing kill yourself already!!! I'm sick of hearing how shit your life is, give me something else to bite into, another point of interest, some landscape, some history. Where were you before here? How did you end up so depressed? Anything but this downward spiral

Truth is, none of these people believe a word I say so I pray for them, only for it to turn out that they're all Christian and have been praying against me since the day I was born. Their Jesus is a gangsta yo', fifteen years old and got a one year old called Enzo, cause he's a Kanye West fan but doesn't believe in naming your kid after a normal car when you could just nick a real one instead. This sentence is the only really good sentence in the whole piece, even if it is out of context.He stacks the shelves at Tesco with chemical wine and Hovis, cause he's got no better way to gain his wealth. Bleeds over the nation but he's more than happy to sell himself. Then gets the bus home to teach his kid to be clever. He wants to get him in to the best schools and make him the coolest kid ever, but forgot to take his own GCSEs, get those five A to Cs and make his own plans. At the bus stop he stands, pay check in hand. Jesus just handed his life over to the man. Yay, someone else for once, who has a name!!(?) Why does he have a name, a total stranger who somehow you know the whole story about, and yet your best friends are lifeless sacks!? A great stanza though

We're under the bus stop together, hiding from the pummeling of the outside weather. The chains round our necks entertain us and our maker. Though his show is improved greatly with chocolates and champagne, and sitting under the bus stop this beautiful city rain, rain, rains. Thank god its over!



Apologise for the harshness, but i'm feeling really passionate today for some reason. The first time i read this, i was bored. The second time i read this, i was even mroe bored. Critting it gave me a headache. Not only is it depressing, condoscending and told from the perspective of that guy you hear on the news that you just want someone, anyone to punch, but its also boring. There are a few interesting moments now and then, but they are far outwayed by the boring moments. Once you've read the first stanza, thats basically the whole poem right there. Very little happens, the other characters (bar Enzo/Jesus) are lifeless and boring, and there is no connection in this piece. Instead of feeling for you and understanding you, we hate you basically. You give us no foundation to build a realtionship with the character. What were you like before this? What happened to make you live like this? Thats what i want to know, not just how crap your life is now. Give me something to chew on. It also really annoyed me that you built a connection for the reader with Enzo, a complete stranger who has nothing to do with your story, but gave us no way of connecting with your best friends, who are not only lifeless, but NAMELESS!! I'm going to leave it at that for now and let you stew over that. Link in my sig (Nighttime) if you wanna repay my thrashing.
#11
If you want another big critique, go screw yourself with a dick. I'm not going to do it.

Although you trailed off in the seventh verse and didn't really return properly, I absolutely loved this. I don't remember Manchester all that well, but I remember sitting in McD's eating fries dipped in milkshake with fifteen friends trying to scab a few nibbles off a burger. All ready to try and scam the next thirty year old to buy us booze from around the corner in Leicester, promising him our official 'hot chick', she would be the one who would always have to offer a blow job if he bought us beer. Then running away after he gave us the drink, laughing in scared panic as he raged after us with a wheel barrow axle.
Your depiction of friendship is so understated. Its gorgeous.
I would of hated this if you said, 'I want travel around the world and be spontaneous. I'm going to look back to that hell hole, England, at my old pathetic mates and pity them. I am living the high life.'
I hate people like that with a passion. Pretentious gits. Don't know what happiness is if shatt on their face.

Once again, this was so fantastic. It hit all the right nerves and reminded me of the better times... until they went down the pan.

Digitally Clean
#12
kdownes, you can't please everyone all of the time. Of course I'll take in to account what you've said, but there's always people who don't fit with particular styles or poems.

AG, thank you very much for the comments. I appreciate the read and am glad it brought back happy memories . My reply wasn't nearly substantial enough to repay you for crits you've given me, but I'm sure you'll get a good rip-up/arse licking with the next thing you post.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#13
i would love to see this as WOTW, although it probably won't because of UG politics. sorry for that second part of that sentence, because I don't want it to take away that this was one of the best most honest things I've ever read on here. Some (lots) of writing people on here seem to write 'in their head' and not in the real world at all, and a lot seems so airy fairy to me, even though it might rhyme and have rhythm and cool images it tries and strains with veins popping to be beautiful, and it's completely meaningless. This one in my 'o' was beautiful, .. - | beautiful | , because of how easy it was and went and how it was just simply itself, (-dare I say, you?..) eating 'ever getting colder' slices of pizza at a bus station Aufzug platform, drinking a bit of alcohol and just living. thanks for this post

ps thanks for keeping the 'capital G' in Goddamned
Last edited by parkt921k at Oct 13, 2008,
#14
very good i really liked your internal rhyming...also you had a wide use of repetition..now all you gotta do rele is put it over a good melody and you hav a hell of a song here...i might be bac for a little nitpicking but thats an amazing song! =]
#16
Quote by rhcp4
what the hell is this?


nice bump, especially for such a stupid comment.