Post III - 6th Inning

[DISCLAIMER: These are two freewrites I did on SAu when I was trying to write some college essays. They're still there, but I figured I should post them up here so I have everything categorized in case I ever use this stuff... Right.]

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Walk it out.
Walk it out, like my calf has cramped up in the sixth inning,
two outs in, playing second base against that girl
with the monster line drive--
churning up the dust in the diamond,
swirling around, blowing drily in a cloud fed by the breeze
that kicks the sand up into my eyes--
Strike one.
I'm standing out in the field,
standing out in the field but my leg is still stiff...
stiff like my writing style right now,
cramped into this formalized diction and 800 SAT word banks
that scream Trust Fund Baby.
I can't sound like a heiress. They already have those;
they don't need another one.
Why can't I sound like me, like the ex-second baseman,
who knows what it's like
when the dust gets kicked around in the sixth inning
and can still go on with a leg cramp and the sun in her eyes
and gets a watermelon slush with her team when the game is over.

Post II - Style

[DISCLAIMER: These are two freewrites I did on SAu when I was trying to write some college essays. They're still there, but I figured I should post them up here so I have everything categorized in case I ever use this stuff... Right.]

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Writing's straitlaced punctual formality sometimes
permits the words to arrange themselves as they please,
seated systematically by handmaids in petticoats to a timely repast
of a conveyed idea. then shifting gears
like a cherry red Ferrari slide in
the apostrophes and contractions &toomany-ands-buts-ors
(polysyndeton being currently indisposed at the moment)
plugging up and slowing down the sentence flow,
blotting things up as they please as long as it
SAYS SOMETHING, say anything,
Say what? and the dialogue speeds back and forth
like a ping-pong match to the
tune of trashy pop in the background--
"Yeah. That's right."That's what I thought.Take that!WHAT NOW,
breathlessly running down spit-stained sidewalks from flipping off
all the polysyllabic briefcased hotshots three blocks up.

Post I - Blame

Whose fault is it when
those tiny details slip through the cracks in my skull;
things always explode
but don't really make a difference,
and here I am running back and forth
trying to catch everything at once
while it gets snatched out from under me,
and whose fault is it?

I don't try to duck when the blame flies to splatter
against the walls; no,
I stand up and close my eyes and
it whacks straight into my face,
it drips down my chin to stain my clothes
and ruins the floor.
The floor was my fault too.

I'm glad everyone has a punching bag.
I'm glad everyone has someone
to complain to, to underestimate, to disregard, to fight.
I'm glad that everyone has someone to stand
on the other side
of a line drawn in the sand.
Better them than me; and it probably is.
The guilt would burn me anyway.

So now I'm trying to keep up,
and I'm doing well. I'm doing.
Really well.
actually, and
I have to say so
because no one else wants to.
But it's always the details that
slip away and explode into
these one-sided conflicts
where the blame flies like bullets
that hit me in the throat.
Whose fault is it?
That's all I want to know.


About: Logically, I'm still trying to make myself realize that I'm overreacting, but I get confused about who overreacted and who was just reacting. It seems like some of the people in my life take what I do every day for granted. For one of the only times in my life, I'm starting to get a good perspective on my overall actions and reactions, where I'm going, where I am, what I need to do, and what I've already accomplished. It's frustrating when people accept passively the majority of things that I do right and fixate on everything I do wrong.

L

Salutations.

I made a livejournal account so I could comment on Anni's posts, then realized something. I have Stercus Aureum, the classic, the consistent (ha!), my go-to blog.

I made Stercus Verum to practice my essay-writing skills, since I just like writing essays and I needed a place to do it.

I've used SAu a few times as a creative writing blog, you know, typing up a few free-writes and pretending I have some talent. Well, the first two, apparently, just weren't enough.

Ergo, welcome to stercus aenum, "bronze shit", a third-place blog to fill with all my creative mediocrity. I feel at home already.
L