February 2012
3 posts
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“That moment you buy Infinite Jest without realizing it is David Foster...”
– Feels like the best split-second decision I’ve made in months
Eternal Breach: David Foster Wallace on... →
angusearlarci591:
“The deconstructionists (“deconstructionist” and “poststructuralist” mean the same thing, by the way: “poststructuralist” is what you call a deconstructionist who doesn’t want to be called a deconstructionist) … see the debate over the ownership of meaning as a skirmish in…
January 2012
10 posts
4 tags
Perfect Tumbl.
We didn’t strike people, you or we. It felt like a disappointment, a letdown in the social circles. By the time we stuck at the hip, our friends had split and we were at the beach, just the two of us. And that mattered. Once we went to Montana, and we camped, for real camped, so we could see the for real stars. It was still, of course, just the two of us, and I brought a picnic blanket, and set...
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Redbox should run a promotion offering discounts...
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“To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your...”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
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“In ergodic literature, nontrivial effort is required to allow the reader to...”
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“Playing around with symbols, even as a critic, can be a kind of kiddish parlor...”
– From the phenomenal article: http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2011/12/12/the-symbolism-survey/
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Batteries Not Included - A Short Play
There is a large bed in the middle of the stage facing the audience with dark, lightly disturbed navy sheets. There is also a boombox stage right. The lighting is low and romantic. On it, two teenagers in underwear sit facing away from each other. What sounds like elevator music is playing softly in the background. There is a large, pink vibrator in the middle of the bed. The mood is awkward....
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WatchCourtesy of Wired’s excellent Raw Data
December 2011
5 posts
3 tags
Merry Christmas, Tumblr
Eternal Breach: A Challenge of Sorts Part 4:... →
HEY! Do this!
Okay, here is the original post.
Really, I am opening up an opportunity for writers to commit to more than 1000 words. If you are interested, please send submissions to brandonm@knights.ucf.edu with the subject line “Writing for Writers” or “Challenge Submission.”
If it doesn’t kill you,…
Eternal Breach: Kurt Vonnegut →
paxmachina:
Eight rules for writing fiction:
1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of…
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Based In the Story "Rebecca," By Oliver Sacks
The theater consists of a jumbled, irregular mass of seats in the middle for the audience facing a small, round stage - the main stage. They are also surrounded by various platforms, mini-stages and balconies to their left, right, and behind them. It all looks haphazard, with no real attention paid to patterning or position. There are mics in the dirt piles, the floors, on loom, in the seats, but...
November 2011
7 posts
3 tags
Ryan Adams - Let it Ride
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Writer's Block:
Sucks. Now. Can bite me. FUCK. Creeps. Crept. Useless. Defines. Happens. Plagues. Overcrowds. Girl in the corner with the thin gingham skirt writing her philosophy paper Blows. Shitshitshit. Wastes. Was. Distracts. Attacks. Settles. Hopes. Sidelong.
Its been a while, tumblr.
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Ryan Adams - Ashes & Fire review up by yours... →
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My review of the newest Tom Waits is up now! →
October 2011
14 posts
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“My father was an exhaust manifold and my mother was a tree”
– Tom Waits
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For the Girl in the Sundress at the Beach On the...
Wisps of skin
Seem to me the most attractive:
The slightest peripheral gaze, or
The crested end of a collar bone
Enmeshed in the enveloping roll
Of a sliding neckline.
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Bananas Fosters
I read the following in the Utica Police blotter, and decided to fill in the blanks.
08/13/2010 06:44:03PM 317 ACACIA VILLAGE Unattended Death Investigation
In the middle of the stage there is small old man in a wheel chair, head bowed. He is dead. Carrie, the Nurse, calls out from offstage. She is tall and severe, but she knows how to curse. The light is reminiscent of a sunset.)
Carrie: Mr....
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we are most alive in dreams: Dear Spamming Tumblr... →
wearemostaliveindreams:
No, I don’t want cheap sunglasses. That’s what truck stops are for.
No, I don’t want tips on how to whiten my teeth. I really don’t give a shit how white my teeth are.
No, I don’t need your ambiguous porn sites. I have a wonderful imagination.
No, I don’t need help getting rid of my yeast…
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September 2011
11 posts
4 tags
Hospital Sketches #1
The Radio Tech
The radiologist is wearing bright patterned scrubs and a baseball cap. He wheels me out of my room. This was the first time I went to the hospital, for my X-Rays. The injury was nominal. But I still had to get crutches. This conversation probably made it all worth it.
You’re a college kid ain’t you? Ha, yeah couldn’t tell from your sweatshirt or anything. I bet all your kids are...
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When Papa Comes Home from the Yard
The room exudes a blue décor
As her feet thump the floor with slippered blows
“Papa, papa, please play it once more.”
But fingers are calloused, and soles are sore,
The hangers are sullied with strung out clothes.
The room exudes a blue décor
The case is open but she hides behind the door
As the lamp swings time and the rain drumrolls
“Papa, papa, please play it once more”
The trombone throbbles...
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Killing Charlemagne: excerpt from The Things They... →
killingcharlemagne:
A true war story is never moral. It does not instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. If a story seems moral, do not believe it. If at the end of a war story you feel uplifted, or if you feel that…
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we are most alive in dreams: Decade →
wearemostaliveindreams:
Ten years ago I was 16 years old and still in high school. Ten years ago I was approached outside of the Visual Media room by a good friend and he told me that someone had accidentally flown a Cessna into the World Trade Center. Ten years ago I passed fellow students in the halls, some oblivious…
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Something Abominable
Curtain rises. There is a single bed, a nightstand on the right of the bed, a dresser on the left. A young boy lies in bed looking sullen, covered up in all his blankets. He is bright, but still has trouble saying bigger words. The Dad stands. Stage is warmly lit, aside from a faint white light from stage left
Father: SILENCE! (Walks to the right. His mood calm and near academic) Carelessness is...
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A Midnight Play
I have been flip-flopping a lot on whether or not to post this, but I think I knew all along I would put it up. Its my very first serious excursion into the world of playwriting, and I don’t know what I expected when I started.
I’m glad I took a few days to think over it. I walked out of the first reading of it (in fact, my first reading ever), slightly underwhelmed and incredibly...