I always start with the first images and ideas that come to mind, and so never know what's going to happen until it does, which is a weakness. If I knew the end, I could direct the writing towards it. And it would be stronger. That is not my idea, but Poe's. And he certainly used it to good effect. But I begin with the initial idea and work out ( Read more... )

The room could be more or less than it appears. Door where there wasn't one before, or a window bricked over. The carpet could change color. Or if the ceiling was six inches lower today than it was yesterday, and yesterday it was six inches lower than the day before? How would you feel? There could be an iron ring bolted to the floor. The door ( Read more... )

But everyone writes about smoking. So she doesn't smoke. It's another kind of habit, perhaps even more destructive. But not drugs. Because that would be to easy. And not alcohol. Because that would be too obvious, like people who write autobiographical stories, just changing the names. She could overeat. Or she could starve. She could bruise or cut ( Read more... )

Like a leaf wet from the rain. And what would the message be? Something she doesn't mean, a lure to try to provoke a reaction. Of anger, but better yet, of his coming over. The smoke rises lazily. She keeps the windows locked all the time, afraid of a break in. The drapes drawn because she is afraid of being watched. One finger scrolling through ( Read more... )

Music plays in the background, but probably none I'd recognize. Or enjoy. She could be thinking about the man she currently thinks she's better than. A lock of hair over one eye. Why do women pluck their eyebrows? Doll faces are not attractive. And the history of the cosmetics industry. It is little better than filth used to create a false (and ( Read more... )

parapsychotic. remainium? the minimum that remains at the bottom of the glass before being pressured to refill from soiled tap. ramblings while walking, robotic legs and arms that don't swing and connections not being made between cells the bars the copper pan the brain sloshes in. ruminmania. very bodily flesh, more colors inside than out. She ( Read more... )

She must have been right, because we never saw each other again. Or, I remained as I was when we met, or became weirder, while she became sane because she became a mother. I imagine her as losing her edge for her daughter's sake (and maybe she has more kids by now), while nothing induces me to lose mine, because I remain alone. I only grow sharper ( Read more... )

Lower beings indicate the presence of higher ones ( Read more... )

Bonnie said I was being weird. I've already mentioned here how that keeps happening; people find me funny at first, even engaging. I'm the life of the party. Then they realize one day, oh, he really IS like that, it isn't an act. He's not the guy who seems weird, even creepy. He actually IS a creep. The darkness they found so interesting before isn ( Read more... )

Poisons in me, but finding no historical exit. I can just let them be in me, rather than passing insecurities on. So if you do not live positively, me, at least act not negatively. So I am bad or good all to myself, like a fire that burns unseen. And I will hold all my esteem back, because no good ever comes from it. No one wants the uncouth animal ( Read more... )