The engine chugs, sputters and dies.
an idea, an idea, my kingdom for an idea-
just one last ride, where the words
roar to life and spill out onto the page-
flows naturally like a rapid splashing river,
salmon leaping out the water, footsteps
dashing forward, freeing, pushing.
I want life to unfold one more time.
But maybe that’s my problem.
I remember something perfect,
but it was never that.
Push then, engine. Your belts may be frayed,
your pistons rusted, but
Throw me a draft that makes your bones ache
and let my words live.
Hello! This is just a brief site update before we return to our regularly scheduled content.
In the months that have passed since my last post, I’ve been thinking and considering a lot about what to do regarding my writing in the future, and I think I’ve finally come to a decision.
Because I’d like to spread my work around and establish a presence that I lost when I stopped posting regularly, I’m going to be posting my works across all my socials when I return in January until February. This is just so I can get a good sense of where I’d like to be, and once I’ve established that, I intend to pull back so I’m not spamming everywhere.
And finally, I’ve also decided to restore all my old Oddity Writer blog posts, simply to remember where I came from and what I’ve done with this blog thus far.
That’s all! Hope you all enjoy what’s coming next! (And please let me know how you’ve been in the midst of my hiatus in the comments)
(A/N: an attempt to compose a poem out of dialogue. Quotes are taken from an actual person that I know.)
“I want a girlfriend so badly.”
A void of loneliness will never fade.
“Is it worth talking to this girl if you’re not going to date them?”
It is not worth talking to them. Because you are not worth talking to.
“Don’t you look at every woman and just choose whether or not you’d date them?”
I do not dare to assume anything. I have my flaws, and I do not judge theirs.
“You shouldn’t disrespect the Bible. Every Adam has an Eve, and you shouldn’t be alone.”
If I had to choose between perpetual solitude and your company, I would be lonely.
“Ohhh shit! You need to sabotage their relationship, bro, you totally have a chance.”
Do Christians not believe in loyalty and trust? Or is that just you?
“You’re not thinking like a father.”
I pray you will never be a father.
“I’m not transphobic, but I do not want those people in the bathroom with my daughter.”
She’s in more danger with you than she is with one of them.
“That’s just my point of view, as a Christian.“
To be clear- I am not creating a video every day in April.
But I want to create something new every day in April. I want to branch out, and I want to experiment. I’ve looked at the stuff that people across the Internet are doing and I’m always in awe of them. I’d want to follow into their footsteps, but I’d never feel ready, never have the skills or the right equipment or whatever else.
And I’m never going to have that. Unless I get up and I start.
Recently, I feel lethargic and unmotivated and unhappy. But I’d like to take some small steps and start working on things that I love, and that’s why I’m doing this pseudo-VEDA thing that a ton of YouTubers have done before.
To wit, because some stuff doesn’t fit what I do on this blog, some of it won’t be hosted here. Some of it will be here, some of it will be on my marktheredwood Tumblr and Twitters, and some of it on other platforms.
This should be fun, and I hope you enjoy seeing how this plays out.
You remember a time
when the second hands moved too slowly
There was a time
when the bell could not have rung any later
And you loved the time
where you could run in the green grass
with a smile in your wind-tossed hair
and a song stuck on repeat.
She remembers a time
when she saw the most beautiful births
There was a time
when she saw your face dawn as the circuit clicked
And she loved the time
with the boat surfing the waves of your imagination
on the open sea, entirely free.
I remember the time
when this was all still real.
There was a time
when there were twenty different open doors
And I long for the time
when we could all choose one to walk through
Work on the paper continues apace. I’m officially at the halfway point of the paper (2 and a 1/2 pages out of 5).
Yes, I know, I’m a tortoise.
The few things that spur me forward are the plans I have for creative projects that I’m going to work on in the future. Not all of them will be shown to the public…
but goddamn, they’ll all be easier than this paper.
As for specific blog updates- I might see if I can’t get an Honest Poem up tomorrow? If I can’t, I’ll probably talk about something that’s been on my mind recently that I’ve just been inwardly debating.
I really want to get a Flash Fiction written, but honestly, that’s going to have to wait until I’ve crashed after I finish this paper because cranking this out has been exhausting.
Have a lovely night, ladies and gents.
I’ll post a bunch of little posts throughout the night with some random musings and thoughts.
It’s gonna be a late night, I’ve got a five page paper to write hnnnng. And while I’ve finished the first page quickly, the rest of it is going at a tortoise’s pace. So as I write, I’ll be updating here.
See you all soon!
The deadline for my second story is coming up and I haven’t written a lick of it yet. I’ve written plenty of ideas and basic premises and even character plans and world building….
And yet, I don’t know if I’m going to stick to any of it. I might just grab a vague notion of a protagonist and dive wildly off script.
It’s entirely unprecedented, as all of the fiction I’ve written since I restarted trying to master this genre has all been carefully planned out and everything has taken shape in my head. But not this time- this time I’ll be making it up as I go, jiving to the character’s beat, you know?
I know that recent, earlier attempts to write in this way have crashed and burned, but I think I have a voice to channel into a story, so we’ll see how well it goes.
The voice is also telling me something that I’m not sure is such a good idea.
This story? It’s going to be a superhero story.
Oh, joy. Personally, I think the entire genre’s getting a little tired but you know what? I’ll work with it. See if I can’t get anything fresh out of it- although I’m pretty sure the entire animals has been hollowed out and stuffed with a printer that makes money.
There are so many ways this could go wrong as all hell… but eh, what’s a life without a little bit of a risk.
I’m running late on a couple of things, so I’m afraid no flash fiction or honest poetry today unless inspiration strikes. Sorry about that!
(However, you can expect another post later today.)
Until then, folks!
It smells like kindergarten.
warmth of a mother,
jubilant laughter as the sun
immerses but never burns.
It feels like melted butter
rubbed onto a frying pan before
snakes its way into a cake.
And you look at the child
reading about gingerbread boys
on that first day
tucked between two parents.
And you wish that they recognized you.
Cliff’s edge bites at my soles
I’m looking for some footing
trying to walk before I dance
Listen for the tick-tick of a clock
to give myself a chance
To steady, steady, thread the needle
to calm the storm, angry black clouds of
“You cannot leave us” and “How could you do this”.
Like a child’s arrhythmic toddle
towards the reassuring cool
of chocolate pudding, the sweet
and the smooth, I stumble towards
But then I remember what I deserve
And the smooth blankets become unforgiving stone
And the house becomes a cardboard box
And everyone is a specter- especially me.
The forest is no place for a child
Like I have no place in the crowd of
happy chatting people. I can run,
but the cliff will give way
to the gaping maw of my mistakes.