|Nothing in particular.|
FFM 17 - Keep WritingA writer walks into a bar. He gets drunk. A poet walks into a bar. She also gets drunk. The poet and the writer are in the same bar, both drunk, and the writer says to the poet, "I hate writing." And the poet says to the writer, "I hate writing too." And they both get even more drunk to escape this fact, which may be a hint as to the stereotype of alcoholic writers.FFM 17 - Keep Writing by Vocable
Later in the night, the poet asks the writer, "Why do we even write?" The writer, unable to answer her, says, "I don't know." The poet asks the writer, "What is it about writing that we keep doing it?" The writer, still unable to answer, says, " I don't know." The poet asks the writer, "Why does it feel as if we are possessed to write by a force we can't explain, that even through our self-loathing we feel a drive to create?" The writer stays silent for a moment then says, "I don't know," and then he continues, "because it is different for each person. I write because I have to, because I feel I must. No matter what this fo
FFM 16 - La Pluie Noire (The Black Rain)Justice is blind and love is blindfolded. Oil fell from the sky in large oozing glops, sliding down my thin glabrous covering, mixing with the dark ichor of my wounds. Harrison drifted before me, smiling from across the spiked parapet, blue gossamer wings stained a murky pitch.FFM 16 - La Pluie Noire (The Black Rain) by Vocable
Why? I asked, my vocalisation distorted in the scratch of dark rain.
We deserved to know the truth, Harrison said, twisting spires of their eyes arching in regret. The world does.
Not at this cost, I say, words struggling out my beak. My gills toiled with the dense sable blocking them. My vision blurred and black pooled beneath my spiralling limbs, my extrusions leaving patterns of ink with their cavities.
Harrison shook their cephalon. I'm sorry. they said, watching me die. Goodbye, Laura. Shadow dripped from the membrane of their wings, the splash of them on carapace lost in the crackling.
Harrison thought they were doing a good thing, that this was necessary. I would have agreed wi
FFM 15 - By FaithAleksandr offers Ewan a vial of pale violet liquid. The teenager takes it, dubious, holding it to his eye.FFM 15 - By Faith by Vocable
"So you're basically giving me a placebo," Ewan says.
"It is not placebo if you believe," Aleksandr replies, calmly standing nearby to make sure Ewan takes the potion, on Marc's orders. "All you need to do is believe it will work and it will."
"Placebo," Ewan repeats, but uncorks the vial anyway and downs its contents with a gulp. He grimaces. "You think believing in something makes it true?"
"Of course." Aleksandr does not know why Ewan does not understand this. As a child of Miorbhail, the miracle-maker, he must have learned that belief is the foundation of his magic. "True enough."
Ewan shakes his head, muttering to himself. "Unbelievable," Aleksandr hears, which is the problem, as he needs to believe. It does not matter. Aleksandr has faith he will learn.
Aleksandr is a demon of smoke, and so he smokes constantly, a cigarette holder rolling sensually between fingertips. It is
FFM 14 - Red TapeIn the Establishment, Maria scoffed at the shouting protesters outside. It was true that they finally submitted all the proper forms and so was legally allowed to congregate outside, but it was still an unappealing sight. The very thing they campaigned for was anathema to her. What would the world do without the forms to tell them? How would we know when someone did something, where someone went without proof? How would the drones know to keep the water units outside to be fully stocked so that the protesters wouldn't dehydrate? A world without paperwork would be a logistic disaster, events happening without being recorded, actions done and no one would know who did them or why. They make a desert and call it peace. Even now she could see the protesters loosely organized outside, their shouts non-uniform.FFM 14 - Red Tape by Vocable
A small buzz sounded in Maria's ear and she faced forward, smiling formally as the leader of the protesters approached. "Welcome to the Administration department. How may I help you t
Confessions of Published Teen Authors!Here are some things I repeatedly hear from young writers:Confessions of Published Teen Authors! by PinkyMcCoversong
I know if I can get an agent by 20 I'll get better marketing. Teen authors are rare! If I'm a teen author, I'll be fancy! [Insert known teen author here] did it, I want to be like her/him! I'll be way more famous if I publish by [insert age under 25]. If I don't publish before I finish high school, I'll be disappointed in myself.
I'm sure this is how you see me. It's cool.
I keep telling folks that these dates are arbitrary, that authors publish when they're ready and that everyone is ready at a different time. That being a teen author is hard (I'm 30, but I have friends who first published as teens) and it comes with a stigma. That being a teen author doesn't necessarily garner fame. That writing a good book is the most important. But why listen to me? I mean, I'm 30! Totally old! W
Prompt 14: The Beginning! Just one day left to send us your slice of weirdness! I'm working on my desperate and pathetically last-minute entry--how about you?Prompt 14: The Beginning! by zebrazebrazebra
Just under one week left to get those entries in! We've only had two so far, so all you people who favourited and shared and rhapsodized about how goddamn awesome it was we were back, get your arses into gear!
Yes, it's us again. We reincarnate more often than Kenny.
This time is going to be different, though. And you can trust me on that, because it's not me who'll be ensuring it. fyoot, a long-time contributor and judge for transliterations and someone whom I'm sure you all know if only by reputation, is stepping into the breach and making sure this dead horse keeps getting whipped. The one major change you should be aware of is that prompts will now go up on the 15th of each month and end on the 10th. Of course, this ending date is purely arbitrary and only influences who gets into the news feature; you can continue
Assembly instructionsBefore You StartAssembly instructions by fyoot
Novices should read instructions
from start to finish
to avoid embarrassment later.
Ensure you are wearing
for the job at hand.
are not required
but there’s no shame in it either
Designated two person assembly (two males pictured)
females may need
to adjust configuration to suit.
Any number may assist.
Spare dowelling plugs
Unwrap all the parts; fold and retain
the packaging for later. Check
all pieces are present, and in working order.
Familiarise yourself with them, feel
their heft, their quality; caress
the expert workmanship, the smooth
and supple finish.
Try to envisage
which parts will slot together:
this will assist you later.
WARNING: DRAWING NOT TO SCALE
RETAILER ACCEPTS NO LIABILITY
FOR FEELINGS OF INADEQUACY.
Insert part labelled A11 into slot E6;
lubrication may be necessary (not provided).
Here you are laid
on the floor and your
assistant is braced
against the wall and
- "But I really want to talk about vocables to you, Harry. They're words, but you take them just as a group of sounds and letters and pieces, and you don't think about what they mean. Just a mixture of things that you can say, that can come out of your mouth. And sometimes they can be so ingenious that you don't even realise that underneath the sounds and letters and pieces there's no meaning." —Pogrebin, Walking Shadow
Caged BirdMy little bird, beautiful and wild,
trapped in a pretty cage.
I long to hear your voice;
won't you sing for me
just this once?
I'll give you anything you want--
except your freedom.
Panties and PistolsI still love this. I memorized the whole thing just so I could read it out loud and use it to practice my spoken word.
Panties and Pistols
What It Means To Lie Awake
[a woman, waking silently]
Fuck you sun, a good dream
return it to me with french toast
and moments for the eyes undoing
and get the cat off my right lobe
convince the pillow its not me drooling
look, the cat believes my ears are dry
we weened him on your words, remember,
some time ago youre not listening
soon my limbs, some fine movement,
a tortoise, a boulder with aspirations,
or a fly trapped in a bar
ill have to write to Kellogs
my mice think theyre just great
looking like a scarecrow
theyre not what I keep far
by now its a shaking clockface
and battery acid i know im not
the only moment
youre made of, i stopped the clock
to be the only one that stays
it was a gradual submission to my demands
a passive kind of need
ill know eternities beforehand
a moment of sweet embrace
the glow is heaping Gah
back you! im grateful for the teethmarks,
but i told you, i
What happens in CRLit Chat......is shamelessly posted in GM journals. May I present:
A19th century hip hop masterpiece by Vocable
Dedicated to Halatia. Sacks attributed to zebrazebrazebra.
i was all up in my arts, courting the ladies with romantic verbosity when this straight up smatchet came up and messed my vibes. mandrake totally blagged up my dollymops, bubbies or chicken-breasted don't matter, took them to his crib, upshowing me, led me to the streets to the seamstresses. them ladies with easy virtue, those rantipole's smashing blind cupid out on display
docked with my lawful blanket and then sneaked into the night to shag my left-handed wife. inserted gaying instrument into her fruitful vine, dabbed it up with her dugs, my convenient's commodity supertight. other men left loll tongued at her madge, her diddeys. i say to them, she be muffed to good health, mandrakes. you bitches can't get no laced mutton, your Nebuchadnezzar only a modicum of mettle, no nanc