As soon as I left class today, the ideas in my head started growing and producing offspring. I wanted to write three letters, but I figured it'd be best to start with just one.
~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Tim,
I know it's been a while, but I have some exciting news. Remember when you said I'd never find a girl? Well, you were wrong.
She was wearing a lot of make up when I picked her up. She was really begging for it. She's got the sweetest little ass too. I don't know her real name, but I might call her Moira. I think she'll make a good pet.
She's not exactly house broken. I'm still cage training her. She's very aggressive, but I can always beat that out of her. I did manage to get a collar and chastity belt on her.
Keep the faith.
- Vinny
~~~~~~~~~~
If no one likes my letter or the direction I'm taking this story in, I will change or delete my letter.
- Paula
Thursday, February 19, 2009
story number one
This is part of the story.
Age of kidnapped- 44
(other suggestions)
brown hair
down to earth
takes yoga and kickboxing classes
mother
two kids
"strong" woman
Age of kidnapped- 44
(other suggestions)
brown hair
down to earth
takes yoga and kickboxing classes
mother
two kids
"strong" woman
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Just Something I Wrote
A Sliver of Chance Wherever We Are
Think of the universe as a giant pool table.
And we are one, small, fast-spinning ball.
Only not as solid or defined.
We depend on the sun.
We depend on our planet's rotation.
We depend on the possibility that some overwhelming mass,
Will not lash out of the depths darkness,
And shatter our existence.
Why are we not dead?
Or are we?
Maybe this is where people go when they're bad.
Made to suffer on a tiny ball with limited resources.
Maybe this is a haven for those who are good.
But then why sentence us to life where we must
Hang on things such as faith and hope
Constantly?
Is that a kind of hell?
Or is not knowing bliss?
Perhaps this really is the Proving Grounds.
Maybe those holding the ques just like watching us spin.
Thankyou,
Luke
Think of the universe as a giant pool table.
And we are one, small, fast-spinning ball.
Only not as solid or defined.
We depend on the sun.
We depend on our planet's rotation.
We depend on the possibility that some overwhelming mass,
Will not lash out of the depths darkness,
And shatter our existence.
Why are we not dead?
Or are we?
Maybe this is where people go when they're bad.
Made to suffer on a tiny ball with limited resources.
Maybe this is a haven for those who are good.
But then why sentence us to life where we must
Hang on things such as faith and hope
Constantly?
Is that a kind of hell?
Or is not knowing bliss?
Perhaps this really is the Proving Grounds.
Maybe those holding the ques just like watching us spin.
Thankyou,
Luke
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Life in a Sand Castle
"I once had lots of pride.
The world was in my hands.
I lived way at the top,
In castles made of sand."
These are lyrics from the song "Gratitude", by Oingo Boingo. I posted them here because I think they epitomize not just the frailty of our egos, but the frailty of life in general. If you're interested check the song out here.
Danny Elfman was so hot when he was younger. Shit, I still think he's hot.
Anyway, my stupidly pious mother is at choir practice. My brother is at school. My dad is asleep. I am essentially alone, and taking advantage of the much needed solitude. After being surrounded by jerks all day, and coming home to the family I hate, I really don't mind being alone. Although, I'm not really alone. I have friends, and a boyfriend, a boyfriend who happens to write surrealist prose (that's what he calls it). Y'all should check out his livejournal. He hasn't posted anything on there in a long ass time, but the stuff is still worth reading. And no, Shayne Amwell is not his real name.
Eh. I guess I should post something of my own up here. Alright. Here are the lyrics to the first song I ever wrote. The lyrics by themselves are kinda lame, but with the music they are less lame. It's a nice coming-of-age song. Actually, it's about abortion. The piano part that goes to this song is mostly improv over the same three chords: G major, F major, and C major. I know. It's the most abused chord progression. I'm not too proud. The song is called "Girls".
Just a couple of years ago
We were as pure as possible
Clean as possible
Now it doesn't seem so simple to me
We were infected
We learned a new language
We learned what our bodies were for
And
We were girls (x3)
(naughty little girls)
Just a couple of months ago
We were as common as possible
Normal as possible
But when you broke the news to me that day
I knew things would be different
They had to be different
They had to affect us some way
Cause
We were girls (x3)
(stupid little girls)
Just a couple of days ago
We were having a good time
Having a great time
Now you are telling me how bad it was
You say it was painful
It must have been painful
That’s all growing up ever was
When
You’re a girl (x3)
(in a man’s world)
girl, you’re a girl
you’re a girl
(in a man’s world)
~~~~~~
That's it for tonight, folks!
- Paula
The world was in my hands.
I lived way at the top,
In castles made of sand."
These are lyrics from the song "Gratitude", by Oingo Boingo. I posted them here because I think they epitomize not just the frailty of our egos, but the frailty of life in general. If you're interested check the song out here.
Danny Elfman was so hot when he was younger. Shit, I still think he's hot.
Anyway, my stupidly pious mother is at choir practice. My brother is at school. My dad is asleep. I am essentially alone, and taking advantage of the much needed solitude. After being surrounded by jerks all day, and coming home to the family I hate, I really don't mind being alone. Although, I'm not really alone. I have friends, and a boyfriend, a boyfriend who happens to write surrealist prose (that's what he calls it). Y'all should check out his livejournal. He hasn't posted anything on there in a long ass time, but the stuff is still worth reading. And no, Shayne Amwell is not his real name.
Eh. I guess I should post something of my own up here. Alright. Here are the lyrics to the first song I ever wrote. The lyrics by themselves are kinda lame, but with the music they are less lame. It's a nice coming-of-age song. Actually, it's about abortion. The piano part that goes to this song is mostly improv over the same three chords: G major, F major, and C major. I know. It's the most abused chord progression. I'm not too proud. The song is called "Girls".
Just a couple of years ago
We were as pure as possible
Clean as possible
Now it doesn't seem so simple to me
We were infected
We learned a new language
We learned what our bodies were for
And
We were girls (x3)
(naughty little girls)
Just a couple of months ago
We were as common as possible
Normal as possible
But when you broke the news to me that day
I knew things would be different
They had to be different
They had to affect us some way
Cause
We were girls (x3)
(stupid little girls)
Just a couple of days ago
We were having a good time
Having a great time
Now you are telling me how bad it was
You say it was painful
It must have been painful
That’s all growing up ever was
When
You’re a girl (x3)
(in a man’s world)
girl, you’re a girl
you’re a girl
(in a man’s world)
~~~~~~
That's it for tonight, folks!
- Paula
Saturday, September 13, 2008
First post!
I've been rather hesitant about posting first on this blog. So here is a poem I wrote about 10 minutes ago. It just kind of popped into my head and i jumped up to the computer to write it. Here it goes!
Fragile
So frail, she seems, as she lie in her bed.
Her supple frame inhabits no space at all.
She’s too fragile, she could break,
Her porcelain skin could give way.
The tiniest crack would bring a flood of tears
Inundating her room, she might drift away.
To a place where nothing can shatter her heart,
Where she can grow strong,
And learn to live apart.
Comments are appreciated!
Melissa
Fragile
So frail, she seems, as she lie in her bed.
Her supple frame inhabits no space at all.
She’s too fragile, she could break,
Her porcelain skin could give way.
The tiniest crack would bring a flood of tears
Inundating her room, she might drift away.
To a place where nothing can shatter her heart,
Where she can grow strong,
And learn to live apart.
Comments are appreciated!
Melissa
Monday, September 8, 2008
Welcome to the 2008 MHS Creative Writing Blog!
Welcome, MHS writers! It's a great pleasure to greet you (electronically speaking), and a special pleasure to welcome you to your home on the web--your class blogsite.
Ever since we first began using online bulletin boards as a way to converse about literature and writing (all the way back in the early '90's, and please don't feel the need to comment about how long ago that was, or how old you were then), it was always my intent to do the same in my classroom. Admittedly, it took a little longer than I thought, but here we are.
I have put this space together for the benefit of your creative and academic pursuit--to expand your ability compose, discuss, and improve your writing. This space is essentially yours to post relevant--and presumably intelligent--work and related comments and questions. At the moment, that slate is completely open to your interpretation, as we will have no FORMAL assignments until second semester begins. However--you can certainly use this space to talk about the upcoming Dodge Festival and its poets (or any other writing-related events), in addition to your own creative work.
Please note the following rules-of-usage:
1. ONLY students currently enrolled in MHS Creative Writing may post comments here. This is not a discussion board intended for the world.
2. anyone who posts must do so with their REAL first name. Any posts found to be made using names other than real (for example, posting using another student's name) will be dealt with according to school disciplinary policy.
3. all discussion will proceed in respectful, cooperative, constructive, and scholarly manner.
4. to ensure that #3 is obeyed, I will personally monitor all discussions on this blog. It's not that I don't trust teenagers to behave in responsible ways. . .oh, wait--yes, it is. I don't. Don't take it personally.
5. Do not expect me to comment on every posting, even if a question has been directly asked of me by one of you. I am much more interested to see whether your fellow writers are capable of suggesting viable answers and explanations. I reserve the right to comment when and if I deem it necessary. Frequently, I will allow a discussion thread to continue unabated, in order to use that thread in class at a later time.
6. From time to time, if the mood strikes me, I may make a comment or pose a question, or refer you to some additional reading I've discovered. Just because I've done that does not make you obligated to respond. . .at least, not yet.
7. Oh--and, yes, the blog will be a required element of your grade each marking period, so make it a part of your daily online ritual. Check it frequently, and post or comment consistently. The concept of "participation" is now no longer restricted to the classroom walls!
That's all I can think of at the moment, but I also reserve the right to change/adjust/modify/ invent as we go along. Because I can, that's why.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts, enjoying your writing, and seeing you all in in class.
MR. LAZ
Ever since we first began using online bulletin boards as a way to converse about literature and writing (all the way back in the early '90's, and please don't feel the need to comment about how long ago that was, or how old you were then), it was always my intent to do the same in my classroom. Admittedly, it took a little longer than I thought, but here we are.
I have put this space together for the benefit of your creative and academic pursuit--to expand your ability compose, discuss, and improve your writing. This space is essentially yours to post relevant--and presumably intelligent--work and related comments and questions. At the moment, that slate is completely open to your interpretation, as we will have no FORMAL assignments until second semester begins. However--you can certainly use this space to talk about the upcoming Dodge Festival and its poets (or any other writing-related events), in addition to your own creative work.
Please note the following rules-of-usage:
1. ONLY students currently enrolled in MHS Creative Writing may post comments here. This is not a discussion board intended for the world.
2. anyone who posts must do so with their REAL first name. Any posts found to be made using names other than real (for example, posting using another student's name) will be dealt with according to school disciplinary policy.
3. all discussion will proceed in respectful, cooperative, constructive, and scholarly manner.
4. to ensure that #3 is obeyed, I will personally monitor all discussions on this blog. It's not that I don't trust teenagers to behave in responsible ways. . .oh, wait--yes, it is. I don't. Don't take it personally.
5. Do not expect me to comment on every posting, even if a question has been directly asked of me by one of you. I am much more interested to see whether your fellow writers are capable of suggesting viable answers and explanations. I reserve the right to comment when and if I deem it necessary. Frequently, I will allow a discussion thread to continue unabated, in order to use that thread in class at a later time.
6. From time to time, if the mood strikes me, I may make a comment or pose a question, or refer you to some additional reading I've discovered. Just because I've done that does not make you obligated to respond. . .at least, not yet.
7. Oh--and, yes, the blog will be a required element of your grade each marking period, so make it a part of your daily online ritual. Check it frequently, and post or comment consistently. The concept of "participation" is now no longer restricted to the classroom walls!
That's all I can think of at the moment, but I also reserve the right to change/adjust/modify/ invent as we go along. Because I can, that's why.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts, enjoying your writing, and seeing you all in in class.
MR. LAZ
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)