Maxim Biller has a story about telephone poles that could teach you a thing or two about mood, or outside as inside, or vapor, cold vapor clouds as character. Something.
Here is a very cool machine of fun. Don’t get much pimper, folks.
Here is today’s writing tip.
Description: Use the 5 senses. Why do you always focus on sight? You ever went to the beach and focused only on sight, motherfucker? Think about verisimilitude please. Figurative language. Your head looks like a sweet potato, like that, but don’t tell me the water rushes down the streets like a flood. It don’t work that way, friend. Also objects and specifics. A car isn’t car, get it? Did I mention mood, motherfucker? Why do you think horror movies are always killing people by thunderstorm? That’s a device. Pay attention. Jesus, why can’t anyone write a decent story about Bruce Lee anymore? Just one, with the words all shredded like a cleaned and oiled accelerator.
If you are in Muncie Indiana:
A dank cave of a sword-wall hanging bar and named after some Beowulf mead hall.
One time I was running here and I walked into a field of corn and stole an ear. I’ve had bad karma ever since, my life has sucked, and the corn ended up being feed corn, of no value to me, harder than a damn Superman crystal to build a house of ice, all that, etc.
Why in the hell does their web page show a parking lot? If I was a canoe company, an outfitter located ON a river (they are) and I hired you to make me a web page and you make that web page and the first image is a parking lot, a parking lot!!–I would kick your ass nine ways to Sunday morning.
I guess that’s what I have to say about Muncie right now. I think so.
Tim Tomlinson has three poems about trouble at 3 am.
I really liked two of them.
Every time i get an email the word freeze is in the email.