Because Writing > Math

I really should be studying for my math test.

Chasing

Need to get this out of my system.

Notes on 'Elapse'

If you haven't read my story, please don't read this post. I don't really want to influence your critique/initial impression of my story. For those of you who have, these were just the general notes I was basing my story on.

Not Flashback

Haven't posted in a while, here's what was gonna be my flashback assignment. And then I realized I was kind of doing it wrong. But I didn't feel like just trashing it.

Warning: If you've read anything about my Carillon Point character, I think I totally butchered his characterization.

19 P.H. - Hemineglectal Astronauts and Bartell Drugs

PH- Post homework. Whoo, weekend homework rush is over! Is very pleased.

Enemy, Soldier

So. I like ranting a lot. Ranting is fun and cathartic, good for stress-relief and letting out pent-in anger. Cathartic is good, yeah? So I've really enjoyed this week on perspectives (yay for writing everything but third-omniscient), even though I probably should've contributed more to class discussions. Also, looking through the rest of the calendar, I am SADDENED that we aren't reading "The Pugilist at Rest," its pretty amazing. And Sea Oak, because everything about it is HILARIOUS. AND FABULOUS. Male strippers, yay! As for this week, Silver Water was great, I envy those metaphors. Some seriously fantastic images in there. And even though we talked a lot about Communist today... I don't know, it just doesn't ring with me.

ABP#06: [An Unfortunate Meeting]

ABP#06: An Unfortunate Meeting

Background info: This is set in Carillon Point, after my character, Adam Callahan has arrived and is set after the [Put me in, Coach] assignment. Adam Callahan is a taxi-driver with a compulsive streak for gambling - who managed to clean out a high-stakes poker game and won a free trip to Carillon Point, all expenses made and bank flowing with cash. Naturally he gambles it all away, and is now a hobo residing at the manor of his pal, the sport hero of Carillon Point who happens to also be a pro poker player. The guy who cleaned him out but was like, "okay you can live at my place." Yep XD

Perspective the first:

My taxi driver senses are tingling. No, seriously. To be a taxi driver, you’ve got to have good eyes, good ears – maybe even nose – to seek out those potential customers. So, it doesn’t really matter that I was snoozing on my pal’s couch (wow, this cushion. is. heaven.), my ears hear it. And I’m promptly awake. I hear padded boots trodding in the hallway.

So, normally this wouldn’t bother me. One, it’s not my house. Two, padded boots don’t usually mean anything. But. My pal’s a pretty meticulous guy. He’s warned me when he’s got guests coming over (thank god, I like hanging out with the guy, but he hangs out with everyone else and it’s pretty awkward). Strike one. My pal isn’t the boots kind of guy, more like the ridiculously-expensive-and-nice-Air-Jordans kinda guy. Strike two. I smell booze. Strike three. Time to get out of here.

Initiating protocol for dealing with potentially violent drunk clients/angry gamblers/rowdy gang members – find something to knock them out first. Fairly used to drunken violence back at home, but Carillon Point is really something – I’m fine with gang warfare, but not when the gangs are basically both halves of town. The entire freaking town.

Paranoid, yes. Gambling is less fun with violent drunkards and drunk violentards. Is that a word? Anyways, back to the task at hand, I think I hear subject drunk ambling towards the kitchen (damn, that’s kind of embarrassing I still can’t find my way to my specific guest room in this mansion but I know the fastest route to the ice cream in the fridge), so I think… I’ll slink my way to the equipment locker he’s keeping near that one restroom near that potted plant that’s to the left of the eagle statue on top of the stair-pillar thing that’s on the floor with the red carpets and the portrait of Babe Ruth. Oh boy. Time to haul ass. And pick up a slugger. Or maybe he has a hockey stick? Oh who am I kidding, of course he has a hockey stick. Yeah. Sounds like the drunkard’s found the fridge, I think I hear that Pepsi can I was storing in there being opened (damn you, bastard!)… Ah, here. Unlock, open… holy crap!

Oh man, there’s no way that guy didn’t hear all this junk falling on top of me. But I’ve got a hockey stick now. Shoot, I think I hear him running upstairs now. Quick, quick, to the… pillar yes. Thank god for ridiculously huge and unneeded pillars from Greece. Or Rome. Whatever, they’re ridiculous.

Face. FACE I DO NOT RECOGNIZE. MEET HOCKEY STICK.

Perspective the second:

It’s been a while since I’ve visited my son. Damn boy’s so rebellious – definitely inherited that from his stupid mother. The town would look up to me if he stopped being an ungrateful ingrate and supported dear old dad. Or even BOTHERED to confirm that I am his father, the little… Ohh…

I’ve got a mind to pick with the brat, damn advisory council wants him to be appointed sheriff! Ridiculous! Outrageous! Completely out of the question, you senile lunatic sycophantic old men! Oh, I know what you’re trying to do here, Jackson. Oh, I know you hate my guts. And I know that you know that I know that you know that I hate your guts too. Feeling is mutual, you blind, decrepit old man.

But. First, there’s a beating to give a certain ingrate. I retire early for the day, and don’t you dare look at me like that, you jackal, I’m your goddamn superior! I slap the stupid brat, I know what he’s thinking. You think I’m not aware of your hate, boy? For Christ’s sake, you all are ungrateful, incompetent, snarky little… arghhhh, I don’t even care any more. I grab a bottle of booze for on-the-go, flip the bartender off (you’re lucky I still come to your damn bar or I don’t just run you out or something, bastard – oh, and screw no drinking/driving, I ain’t gonna sue myself), and make my way across town in my little red Chevrolet. This old baby’s run me for several years, better than all of those shiny, fancy-pancy new cars that youngsters use nowadays to polish their own asses. Stupid brat. And his mansion, what the hell does that kid have between his ears, mush? Who the hell raised this kid? Certainly can’t have been me, that’s for sure.

Spare key, spare keys, there. Damn brat, where’d he get all the money to afford this? And is he even here? I have half a mind to go hunt him down and kick his ass from here to… you know what, I’m going to find his kitchen and grab a bite.

Huh. That’s weird, the kid’s never prepared Pepsi for me before. Maybe he’s got some hope left for him after all. And is that… wait. What was that clanging? Sounds like it’s from upstairs…

Huh. Nothing here.

Nothing here, either.

Hmm… What the…!

Yeah... Did not enjoy Kincaid's style very much, but the perspective stuff is fine with me. I think third-omniscient is the only perspective I haven't written in yet XD

ABP#05: [Anonymous]

ABP#05: Anonymous

Never post anything on the internet without a pseudonym or four; never use your real name anywhere, go by nicknames, pet names, casual names; facebook only enough so that your closest buddies know that you don't; if you must have an IM icon, pick one of the default ones - the chess one's pretty boring; don't wear blinding colors; don't wear muted colors; when picking what to wear, think what your classmates are wearing; become a chameleon, don't stick out; it doesn't matter big or small, just don't act flamboyantly or secretively; but what if I want to eat chocolates in class?; too bad, unless you want to share it all; eat your food at a steady pace - too slow singles you out when you're the last one eating; when called upon in class - answer, but use the most boring textbook answers you can think of; when called upon to present, make sure you use lots of text; remember, stay anonymous with Bs - As attract too much attention unless you're in art; laugh when expected but not too loudly, certainly not guffawing; but what if that's how I naturally laugh?; then give up, because you're a goat and goats aren't anonymous; this is how you stare in shock but not quite awe; this is how you walk and smile; this is how you score just enough points on your test so your parents don't kill you but you're still suitably average; chameleon, you are one, so blend and blend; don't panic unless you're in a theater and someone shouts fire; don't laugh at others unless your friend trips over a paper clip or if others are laughing; don't fret unless its ten minutes before a test andthen act like you haven't studied - maybe you did, but spaz anyways; make sure you tie your shoes - it's hard to be a chameleon when you're known as the guy who faceplanted into cement; listen in class to the expected degree - that is, don't unless it's AP calculus; have the most boring quirks possible - pet rocks, maybe; be average at everything you do - but don't be exceptional at being average, you have to be average at being average; are you a chameleon yet?; or try your hand at being a ghost - but not literally; anonymous people aren't ninja - it would be cool though; anonymous people aren't spies - it might be cool though; because anonymous is not standing out and ninjas and spies are about as glorified and standoutish as you can get; basically, be as boring as you can get; be average at average; but really, being anonymous is being a chameleon.

Enemy, Emperor

Getting over my writer's block and procrastinating. Have a piece inspired by the complete lack of truly sympathetic villains in video games. There's like, 2-3. Seriously. And most games don't even TRY to make sympathetic enemy rulers. Or they do, but fail horribly. This is saddening. Ergo, here's my attempt. Placed within some generic fantasy world. Because video game heroes are hypocrites and what really constitutes a hero anyways?

ABP #04: [Constructing a World, Block by Block]

So I found today's class to be really interesting and at the same time, kind of frustrating - I'm sure we definitely could have came up with more ideas if we weren't focused on random stuff. Anyways, here's a list of ideas and places and whatnot that I liked in our discussion.

• people washing up in town: I think this idea's still great and applicable, could be a reason to lead to the tension.
• Little Ben: I don't know why people were talking about two Little Bens, we could just, ya know, have it on one side of the bridge and be a symbol of the tensions... But anyways, yay for clocktowers.
• central square/plaza: Okay, I don't know about you guys, but I didn't exactly get "sprawling metropolis" from our conversation in class today, so I don't know why the central square/plaza can't encompass the bridge and river. Just imagine a giant square with a river running through it and a single bridge? 
• window factory: It's an interesting business thing, I don't see any problems with it. And windows can be symbolic and whatnot if you really need more of a reason.
• sheriff and hero: I like the idea in general, but I'd replace sheriff with mayor or other town leadership title, have the sheriff/mayor be a mutually hated person that both sides want to displace, and have the sports hero be a symbol for the entire city and thus a common point of interest. Add some politicking, ta da! Father and son are both prime political targets for a city of political and social unrest. 
• haunted house: Except haunted wharf. Tired of houses, lets do something more coastal city like?

You know what this reminds me of? Italy. Here's some details that I thought might be interesting

• canals: Hey there, Italy. That's what I was thinking of when you guys said river through middle of city anyways and docks, so throwing it out there. Plus economy based on sea trade/fishing? 
• layout of city: You know, like the plans of the city from an aerial view? A giant key or a fish or something could be cool, and I don't know, it might be an interesting reason that leads to tension. "HEY, WE NEED MORE ROOM TO BUILD HOUSING." 'NO, YOU CAN'T, YOU WILL RUIN THE FISH.' :D
• manor of a historical hero: Because if I follow through on the Little Ben on one side, the other side should also have something of importance. Insert random history of the hero who founded the town or something and built his house. Both Little Ben and the house were built before factionalism began, and each side claimed one?
• old priest in the middle of town: Like, smack-dab middle, with a tiny church available to all. Maybe have him try to mediate each side, but he would be the old guy trying to make peace with each side. Generally likable, but the more radical parts of the city want him out.
• possessed crane: Local legend says a construction crane/apparatus once went berserk with nobody at the controls and then broke stuff around it. Since then, a rusted crane lies in the middle of an unused plot of land near the dock sector. DEMON CRANES, because we could.
• locked rooms in Little Ben [+ manor of a historical hero/any other location of interest]: Nobody knows what's behind them, they are guarded by identical doors and nobody knows who has the keys. Multiple town legends involve them. Manor can be replaced by anything else or just nothing, but Little Ben should have one for sure.
• growing port city: To tie in further with random people drifting into the city, have it be like a major stop for seafarers or something on their way north/east/south/west. Then we get a whole bunch of random sailors to talk about. 
• California/Alaskan gold rush scenario: Maybe, to get a whole bunch of people trying to strike it rich and coming through the city? The resource of choice could be gold or anything else and could be near the city or just further in any of the compass directions, but the city is like a prominent stop for most ships going there. 
• a town fish: Like a fish that's unique to the town's area or something. Be a symbol of the city, have yearly festivals based on it, all that. Kinda like salmon to our region? And call it... Derpfish? Derfish? Derpish? :D Just kidding. But not about the fish in general.
• Possible Town Names
• Teisnayucanuis: There is no way you can pronounce this. Tereisnoayyucaronounchis. Teisnoayucaronunchis. Teisnayucanuis.
• Terull - Troll. XD
• Anamorisity - A name for this city. Anamorisity.
• Benralin - Ben Franklin. I don't know, I just thought this sounded cool.
• Jodaforth - Joe the Fourth. 
• Frontier - It's a cool word. And even if this is grounded in reality, we never specified an era. DISCOVERING THE WORLD, HO. Would tie in well if we did do a goldrush scenario.
• Derptown - I felt obligated to. 

Yeah. Pretty much. Also, like I said, I don't get sprawling metropolis, I get "salty, smells like a coastal port city, Venice-lookalike" so I'm not sure if I like the meadow idea at all because this feels pretty urban/in development to me. And I can't picture coastal town with meadows inside the town. But that might just be me.

3 x D

This started as first person. I swear to god, it did.

ABP#03: [A Meeting]

His name was Adam Callahan. An ordinary fellow, a taxi-driver during the day, a self-proclaimed professional gambler at night. He wasn't the most remarkable person, commonly seen in a dull green attire of vest and khakis, a middle-aged fellow with a fierce deep-set frown to his face. And a bit scatterbrained, the type of person who would get insulted but come up with a retort... a good half-hour later, thirty miles away. As such, Dr. Morris (his psychologist) was not surprised when he confessed that he would be thinking about gambling while he taxied his clients around during the day, but then think of weird taxi-goers when he called on his pair of fours - although there was a slight grin and long-suffering sigh at the mention of the time Adam had inadvertently cried out "I'll raise a wallet!" when asked to call and subsequently lost his driver license and cash  (he had delivered a young couple from the local airport to their hotel and couldn't keep his eyes off the fancy Italian wallet the man had). 

As for his beliefs, Adam was fervently set that his only higher deity was Lady Luck - luck, he believed, drove the world and life. Dr. Morris personally held the belief that it was Adam's way of justifying his ridiculous bets and gambles that would consistently drive him to the abyss of bankruptcy, beyond which lay cardboard boxes in the middle of cold winter alleys. Denial was something Adam was quite good at. A mid-life crisis for a man who has no idea what to do with his money except gamble it away, indeed.

Their meeting was one of bewildering coincidences, perhaps something rightly attributed to luck. Adam had flipped his customary coin of the day to determine which side of the city to drive around. He had not, however, expected it to ever land upright. But Lady Luck called it so, and Adam hastened to follow her command, driving back and fro in the underground tunnels alongside the bridge. It wasn't a particularly busy day, so it was on his fourth?...fifth? pass that he saw her. At first glance, he thought she was a giant white dog someone had smacked with an industrial-size garbage can. But then she looked up, and his foot slammed into the brakes as his eyes simultaneously expanded in surprise and then rolled back as his face met steering wheel. The car horn that blared as his nose collided with wheel alerted the young girl to his proximity and with a hoarse cry of surprise, she fell backwards and rebounded off the tunnel wall onto his taxi. 

Luck, eat your heart out.

Adam didn't have good experiences with most crack-addicts. An understatement that he refuses to clarify upon. So when he woke to the presence of a young girl shoving him awake, flecks of white spotting her lips and cheek, emitting a strange smell that might be questionable, and hears "factory near the McDonalds near the river," he does not question or ask to clarify or do anything but respond "Yes, ma'am" before gunning his taxi into high gear. No, he wasn't watching his rear-view mirror to check if the girl had any weapon on her, nope. When looking back, he supposed that she might've been a pretty girl, but he didn't remember her well enough (and that wasn't because of fear, that was because of professional courtesy).

And he didn't really know where he was going either. Vague instructions? But he was too polite to question her further, it would be so terribly rude you know, so he wings it and heads to the chalk factory on Wilson and 4th, because it's the only factory he knows of that's near the river and a McDonalds (of course, that wasn't saying much since he was a Burger King-er and thusly didn't care to remember any local McDonalds). He arrives, clears his throat throughly before dryly opening his mouth to rasp something out. In the process of the opening of his mouth, the girl's nose perks up, and she promptly exits the taxi without any further prompting - but not before bumping her arm on parking meter and tripping over the trash can he parked next to. 

Of course, Adam, being the gentleman he is, doesn't ask for the girl to pay him, because he sees some questionable folks heading towards the girl and calling out a name that he could not discern. So with a muffled and garbled shout of "Aruallrhgtok!" he drives away with a sensation of... professionalism. Yes.

It was only until later when he was cleaning out the seats of his taxi when Adam lifted some trace amounts of the white material the girl had on her mouth, that he found out exactly why the suspected questionable substances smelled strange.

"Wait, that was chalk?!"

Yearning

What I wrote up for the "yearning" assignment. I was sitting at my computer wondering when how to start when this song played... and it kind of spiraled from there. Heavily influenced by the game Narcissu. Warning: sad ahead.

Monochromy

Apparently, I'm too abstract and don't use enough details. >_> Geh. Anyways, summations as usual and another attempt at doing detail/characterization/both.

Lank and Clank

The character description activity we did in class was pretty fun, so I'm gonna try it again... with fictional people because its infinitely less awkward for me to do so. Derp.