Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 39

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 39

This entry is part 32 of 32 in the series Just Write Something Damnit!

Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page     I do not look back at the previous post while writing the current one, nor do I spend any time planning for the next one before I begin it. Those are the rules of this series of 365 posts, and I am sticking to them. It is really hard to write in the moment. It is also somewhat freeing. Not looking back would probably not be a problem for most people. I have such a terrible memory though that it is entirely possible I will completely repeat myself at some point (maybe more than once!) during this challenge. I hope you will forgive me this indulgence. It is important to me and also fits in with the driving force behind the current incarnation of this site. I am trying to share myself and find some way to connect spiritually with the world around me. Sometimes I find it hard to leave my room and this lets me get out there in some small way.  

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Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 39

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 37

This entry is part 30 of 32 in the series Just Write Something Damnit!
Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page

Thinking About Death

The combination of morbid creativity and extreme anxiety that powers the mainframe I call a mind affords me plenty of (unwanted) opportunities to consider how I want to die when it is my time to do so. Not that we have a choice, but I think I would probably be right in assuming that every one of us has—at one time or another—considered one type of demise preferable to another.  

Suicide?

I have considered the merits of types of suicide (that’s another story, for another day) as well as accidents and diseases. My imagination is high powered and my dreams even more so. The combination has allowed me to explore the feelings and emotions of the end in ways that most could not even fathom.  

The Best Way To Die

I am probably a part of the majority when I say that I have always considered dyeing in my sleep to be the best way to go. The assumptions I base that on are that it is painless and unexpected. Critical thinking is a bitch though, and I have recently come up with a couple of reasons why even the (seemingly) sublime thought of slipping away in the dead of night could be just as terrible as all the alternatives: 1) It is always assumed that dyeing in our sleep is painless. I think that assumption comes from the fact that no-one is there to witness it. We wake up (or walk into the room the next day) to find our loved one dead and automatically assume that they just slipped silently away into the great beyond. Is that the truth or the tale we tell ourselves to cope with our own personal loss. 2) The older I have gotten the more I have come to firmly believe that we implicitly know when our time has come. If that is true then there is no ‘unexpected’ death. Even if it is just a fleeting moment—we know when the time has come.  

A Bug’s Death

What’s the point, Dave? Glad you asked. I was driving home from Pennsylvania today contemplating death. It is a terrible thing to do when you are driving 65 miles an hour in a large piece of metal and glass on a road filled with potholes and surrounded by assholes that are just trying to get to their 4th of July party before all the beer is gone. That being said, I am an asshole too and that is exactly what I was doing. The anxiety was really starting to affect me when all of a sudden SPLAT! A huge bug exploded on my windshield right at eye level. It was in that moment that I decided that—if I had my druthers, and the power to decide how I was going to go—I would be a bug, on a highway, on a windshield.
Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 39

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 33

This entry is part 26 of 32 in the series Just Write Something Damnit!

Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page
I had a heart-rending nightmare one evening that left me broken in the dark for hours after it occurred. This terrible piece of #flashfiction is what it spawned.
 

Brianne stood silently by the table and watched the flame flicker on the wax embodiment of the number fifteen atop the cake. She’d been there well on ten minutes now — vacantly transfixed by the ebb and flow of the tiny light in the middle of the room. She watched, standing straight, arms limp at her sides, head lolled to the right, and completely emotionless.

The cake is beautiful she thought, white icing and all — a very nice gesture from the mother who could not make it home for her birthday. The thought brought a single tear to her eye that left a black mascara tinged trail as it gently streamed down her face. It clung, momentarily, at the bottom of her cheek before dropping to her breast below — In the end, one tear was all it took.

Brianne took the knife from the table and pulled it gently across her throat. The intent was fragile and focused on attention. The effect was resolute and final. She underestimated the sharp bite of the blade and it pulled itself deeper into her flesh than she had ever intended. White icing now red, Brianne slipped into the black.

That is the end of Brianne’s story and nothing that came before this moment or happens after, matters. Her entire existence begins and ends, with one single moment of despair and miscalculation.

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 39

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 32

This entry is part 25 of 32 in the series Just Write Something Damnit!

Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page  

Writing Every Day

I have been writing every day now for 32 days. Believe me when I tell you that is a record for me. In fact, it is the most consistent I have been with any individual thing (other than work) my entire life. If you have read all of these then you know that some of the writing has been good, and some of it has been bad. Truthfully it does not matter to me either way because the goal here was consistency and — on that count at least — so far, so good.  

What Professional Writers Recommend

The benefits are exactly what every writer who has recommended said they would be. I am one of those thick-headed individuals that need to experience something for myself before I will believe it though, and now I do. It used to take me forever to start a writing project. I would think about, rethink it, and think about it some more. Now I just start it. I’ve begun three stories in the last two weeks. One of them is a novel that is 75% outlined already! Ideas are flowing night and day — it’s like every fiber of my being is tuned to the same frequency. I would say that I wish I had set down this path sooner, but I recognize the folly in that statement. I was not ready, and it was not time. Now I am, now it is, and now I will.  
Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 39

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 31

This entry is part 24 of 32 in the series Just Write Something Damnit!

Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page  

My Failure As A Writer

I wish I could write a love story, or a drama, or something that made people laugh. My failure to do so is not from lack of trying. I’ve begun the process on several occasions, only to find the story turning to the dark side shortly after beginning.  

Darkness Is All I See

Darkness is all I see when I look into my mind for a story to tell. When I have a point that I am trying to make it is always easiest to filter it through a terrible lens. I suppose its the same thing with comedians. I have tried, so very hard, to give up the terrible tales that I tell. I even wrote a post about it called From Horror To Hope. I was being honest then, and I’m being honest now — I was a fool to think I could give it up and, even more importantly, that I SHOULD give it up.  

Giving Up Horror?

The point of giving up horror was to write for God. The narrative that’s been constructed for us is that there is a certain and particular way to go about that. That narrative is wrong. A thing does not need to have the words ‘God’ or ‘spiritual’ scrawled upon it to be of a Godly or spiritual nature. It is the intent of the thing that decides its place in the universe, not the thing itself. Everything I write — even the darkest of tales — is an attempt at finding the light in the darkness. Sometimes it is so faint you can barely see it, but trust me, it’s there.
Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 39

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 29

This entry is part 22 of 32 in the series Just Write Something Damnit!

Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page

When I was younger I wrote poetry fairly often. In fact, for five or six years (that I recall) that was all I wrote. Now, I have an entire box of it laying around here somewhere collecting dust.

I stopped writing it when I left college. The real world seeped into all the little cracks and crevices of my soul that desired to think poetically. I got a real job, started making real money, and forgot all about the real love of words that was beating in my chest.

Time passes, and here we are. I woke up this morning feeling all poetical and shit! So twenty years (at the very least) since the last time I composed a poem I came up with the following four stanza’s. It’s not the greatest, but I figure if I hadn’t ridden a bike in twenty years I would fall at least once when I got back on one.

 

Come one, come all
Come pleasure, come pain
Gratitude, and ‘thank you’ say I

Fly high, or fall
Blue sky, or rain
Gratitude, and ‘thank you’ say I

Open road, or wall
Bit part, or main
Gratitude, and ‘thank you’ say I

Bright rainbow, or pall
Full gait, or cane
Gratitude, and ‘thank you’ say I

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