Vonegut’s rules: 1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he/she will not feel that time was wasted. 2. Give the the reader at least one character he or she can route for. 3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water. 4. Every… Continue reading Vonegut’s rules for writting a good short story:
Louie was a shithead. He knew he was a shithead. In his mind, he was just doing what had to happen for him to survive. Being a shithead was instinctual for Louie. He never wanted to harm a life physically, or any other way for that matter. But he felt kind of like he had… Continue reading Louie.
Heres the problem Im drunk and you are passed out Im here stuck processing all of the events of the night While you, seemingly peacefully, processing the days events through some kind of altruistic, inate process, I am stuck here trying to process things manually with my conscience. Knowing full well that while I am… Continue reading Aftermath of a difficult night. (The process of processing)
The dada movement has been resurrected in the Senate Folding the constitution like origami, A morphing sphere hailed as the nucleus of liberty. They say that we are divided by Gods, by colors, by sex; A meal we have been fed a hundred times, and continue to chew on occasion Though the flavor has turned… Continue reading Today
There is a man at the end of a long dock in the ocean. He has been there for 9 hours. At moments the man imagines that the dock has broken off and is floating at sea, he refuses to turn around because he likes the feeling of the illusion. At least the rescue boat… Continue reading A Man A Plan A Canal Panama
There was an old man, who lived by the sea. His name wasn’t Hook, His name was not Shmee, His name was not known, Not even to him, For the sake of the story, Let’s just call him Jim. Now Jim was a man with very few knees, a couple at most, Poor Jim… Continue reading Weird Poem (not about Shmee)
I walk up to the bar, Ready to consume that American dream Often lost in inebriation or other things. That dream that everyone knows happened, but can’t seem to remember. I order a Manhattan, and the bartender pours me a splash From every bottle in the bar. She adds so many garnishes my lips can’t… Continue reading Drinking the Dream at the Libertine