Order and Chaos

You could call this an experimental draft. It’s a draft because I think that it needs a lot of rewriting. It’s experimental because I experimented with it, because the style and the plot is unusual. It’s thirty-one pages long. And if you want to see some very good writing mixed in with some problems, I would recommend reading it. That being said, this is another one of the summer projects. I am going to work on it, fix it, make edits and changes. If you cannot wait, please, read it! And if you are a writer or reader who want to read this and give me some pointers on how to make it better, I would be very, very thankful.

Here you’ll meet Susan, a woman trapped in her city in a crisis, at the point when the world ends, and the personifications of Order and Chaos finally decide to fight. Because Order is not just organized, but restrictive and cold, and Chaos is not just rebellion but also a loss of control, and a feverish madness. My only goal here is for you to feel things.

Here’s Order and Chaos.

Walnut

I’d like to write better, and I’d like to think that the things that I so enjoy imagining would be enjoyed by all…if only I could find the right words. So I wrote a poem about it.

At this point I think poetry is something I do compulsively.

Here’s Walnut.

Eating Words

I had a great idea for a poem in the sixth grade. But then I forgot about it for a while, and instead I wrote a poem about bacon chocolate. (Have you ever had bacon chocolate? You should try it, if you like things that are salty-sweet.)

I had the same great idea in ninth grade, but then I started watching My Little Pony for some reason and didn’t write much in the way of poetry.

Finally, this year, I sat down at my computer and created this poem that had been six years in the subconscious making.

It’s okay.

But I think it’s a good thing to read, because it’s an interesting idea, and if you want to steal it from me and run with it, I encourage you to do that. So please, bon appetite!

Here’s Eating Words.

Go To Hell Preveiw

There was just a point in the middle of this year when I decided, “Screw making sense, I’m just going to write what I want to write.” Was this a good decision? Only time will tell.

This is a few excerpts from the little of “Go To Hell” that I finished. It’s a story about David Edwin Blanco, and how he lived his afterlife, and what Hell is. It’s an unfinished story, but I have high hopes for it. I’m going to lengthen it in words and cut out some of the convolutions of plot and give it to you late in the summer, finished.

But most importantly, the next time you see this story it will be much funnier, I promise.

Here’s a preview of Go To Hell.

Seasons

“Seasons” is really a collection of poems that are an exercise in description. I think they turned out pretty well, but mostly they were fun to write. If you want a good writing exercise, I’d recommend just choosing a few words and writing a few connected poems.

Here’s Seasons.

 

 

 

One Last Secret

This poem was just an attempt to describe a very clear image in my mind. I had faint traces of candles, and a pact, and a dark urban place, where things are not what they seem. And a feeling of concrete and blood.

Here’s One Last Secret.

Wolf

A short story about a girl who is scared and alone and different. This is one of the first finished stories that I wrote in “my style”, or the style that I’ve been using all this year. It’s…a bit strange, but so is everything I write.

I find that people usually have one of three reactions to my writing. They either love it and think that it’s fantastically creative, hate it and refuse to read more than a paragraph or two, or they just don’t really know what’s going on.

But maybe that just means I should stop taking people from their own houses, dragging them into my basement and forcing them to read my writing.

Here’s Wolf.

The Race

This poem is a good, solid poem. My brain just decided, independently of me, to write this good, solid poem. This poem has a good foundation. Solid wood beams. But you know realestate these day, location, location, location. And no one wants to buy in a shattering dystopian realm full of semi-human creatures expanding and deflating to the rhythmic pulse of their own destruction.

But it’s a nice enough place to visit, every once in awhile.

Here’s The Race.

Runaway

If you were looking for angsty poetry, you are going to be happy. If you are not looking for angsty poetry, you might still find happiness if you make good choices in your life, follow your dreams, and eat your vegetables.

Ironically, that’s the exact opposite of the message of this poem.

Here’s Runaway.

Group Therapy

This might be one of the best things I have written. Just a skit about literary characters, pulled into the real world, not adjusting to reality and all the strange things we have here. But mostly about how much Ishmael loves whales. Ishmael really. Loves. Whales.

Ah yes, trouble dealing with excess mental and emotional pain, the source of all comedy.

Here’s Group Therapy.