April 30 2014

Glass Houses
Find their own
Way to break.

And we -
Find a way
To justify why

April 28 2014

Writing Attempt: Free Writing


There was something else Liv had in mind to say but with the noise and the eyes, the feet shifting, the reflection of his sequined jacket lifting magenta up up up and the liquid falling down her throat fill fill filling her empty stomach in until her insides would slush side to side - she the vessel that holds the ocean - and what now? Liv choked quietly on her thought until it finally passed and it's remnants drowned themselves in her internal sea.

"Were you going to say something?" The sequined man said.

"No, I'm fine."

April 25 2014

Trailblazers lost.

I went to an art store this morning looking for the perfect materials for my booklet. Unfortunately I was not able to get the right paper. 
My plan for tomorrow is to get to the store that will have what I need and then print out the "guts" before I screen print the cover.

After I am done with the first copy that will secure my certification,  I am absolutely going to take a poll to see how many of you are interested in buying it for a measly 10 bucks.

So exited.!
HONESTLY I AM

Classy Biped

April 24 2014

What I have been up to:

I've got the guts of my publishing project DONE. On to the cover Nd the inserts. Gotta buy the paper and decide on colors and then make.a couple mock ups before I commit, but you guys-

IT'S FUCKING HAPPENING.

And once I get my initial book in to qualify for my.certificate, I will be making more and will most definitely be shilling them out for anyone who is interested.

Eeeek.

Classy Biped

April 22 2014

Writing Attempt: Final Draft

I worked on my edits today after getting some wonderful last minute help from my friend Sarah. It took me much longer than I thought for a few reasons. The biggest one being an anxiety attack over what it is I'm attempting to accomplish. But once I took a nap and calmed myself down, the editing process focused me well. Here's a tiny taste.


---------------------------------

“I don’t want you to do this again.” Dahlia said.

“That’s what I am paying you to say.” Said Chelsea.

“Yeah. It is. But I usually don’t mean it.” Dahlia flipped the vomit smattered strand of hair away from Chelsea’s face. “I don’t want to take the money. I rather you be safe. I rather you stay alive.” She brushed the skin under Chelsea’s wet eyes with her ring finger then placed it in her own mouth and sucked on it. “Let me take your sadness.”

--------------------------------

Tomorrow I MUST TRY to get the pages formatted for sensible printing...pray I don't have a heart attack.

-Classy Biped

April 21 2014

Writing Attempt: Poetry

Today my chest is comprised of the mud that fills the Swamp of Sadness.

 Its weight pulling me down down, fusing my above as one with my below.

Then I am asked to walk.

I absorb my darkest clothes,

(Taking on the Gothic persona that reflects my state)

Imagine my lips painted a shade of mourning,

And flop out into the world around me,

Each movement forward a blobulous smash against the earth.

 

I am slow

I am sad

I am slipping into a space that I fear I may not escape from.

_______________

Hard day. Tomorrow is my big personal work day where I try to get my writing into InDesign. Wishing myself luck and focus. (ha - we'll see)

love

CB

April 19 2014

I have been working so much. I wish my bank account reflected as such. But I hate cooking dinner, and require after work beers, so I am therefore terribly unable to keep myself in an above "just getting by" financial status.

In the writing world: I am considering materials for my required project and will be taking Tuesday to acquire the right pieces of paper.

D.I.Y. is fucking difficult because it is D.I.Y.


here's a bit of something:

---------------

All the other people traveling with you  have the same expression. Sentient mannequins. This increases your anxiety. You check your watch for the third time. The numbers are gone. Replaced by the floating shapes that drive themselves into your eyes.

------------------

Classy Biped

April 18 2014

EDITING STILL

The next two hours were routine for Dahlia. Hector cried and tried and tried and tried to commit suicide but with every circumstance he though out, she found a way to thwart his logic. When he sobbed about his monetary loss and impending trial, she took his hand and slipped it inside her while telling him he was worth the struggle. She talked him into revealing his true self then talked him back out of it so he could feel stable. So he could feel his physical body was his true home.

When she left, Hector was asleep in his bed. Dahlia took her payment off the kitchen island, made sure his apartment was free of plastic of any kind, and dropped a bottle of Xanax and her business card on his dresser in case of a relapse. 

-----------------


Only a week or so until all is printed.


Classy Biped

April 17 2014

Today.

Next week.

I have come to the point where I have been working on something for a period of time that has suddenly become something akin to gibberish.

--------

Not proud of anything

ClassyBiped

When they first began, Dahlia figured using his hair as kindling would suffice. “Hair burns quickly, so we’ll begin there.” Dahlia had said. Jacob was unconvinced. To prove her point, she started small. A tiny match to his wrist. A fireplace match to the forest surrounding his groin. A burning newspaper to his chest hair. Poof. Nothing. Once the two were finished sneezing out the smell of burnt hair and newsprint, Jacob suggested she use something chemical to assure he could be lit up as planned.

7 parts ethyl alcohol

7 parts water

Salt for color

Candle for flame

Now that the flames were fueled and dancing nicely up his arms and torso, Dahlia took her mug to her lips and gulped in her cold anise tea, appreciating the work she had done. Observing the obscene scene in front of her made her feel like a director of an absurdist play; staging strange performance art. She smirked quietly at that thought while the man in front of her screamed a scream not unlike one she made herself while in labor.

--------------------------------------

Still hacking through the weeds. Anyone available and willing to do some editing for me this weekend?

Classy Biped

April 15 2014

Writing: Revision for my self published piece

“Don’t worry, Hector, I understand. Understanding is what I do. It’s what this is all about.”

Hector grabbed the end of the garbage bag in Dahlia’s hands and pulled down heavily.  “Sweet Caroline. I want to die.” He said.

“I know. But I want you to live.” Dahlia pried the white plastic from his tightly gripped fingers.

“Prove it.” Said Hector.

“I can’t.” Said Dahlia.

“Then I’m beginning.” Hector opened the cupboard that he had been leaning against and pulled out another trash bag and placed it over his head.

“Go ahead.” Dahlia said softly. “But since you put that over your head, you won’t be able to see what it is I’m doing now.”

“And what is that?” Hector’s response moved the bag deeply in and out.

“I can’t say. I can only do.” Dahlia’s voice was just above a whisper.

“I want to see.”

“Then Take it off.”

“I can’t.”

“Then talk to me.”

“I can’t.” Hector pulled the yellow ribbon ties tight around his neck.

“Then I’m leaving.” Dahlia took two loud steps backwards.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll talk.” Hector breathed in so deeply the bag took on the sad shape of his desperate mouth.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you so sad?”

“Life has just been – life has dealt me a bad hand.” Hector put his hand to his chest.

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it.”

-----------------

There's so much more! I'm getting even more anxious and excited about my project. I really hope it turns out well. I've been so critical of myself my whole life that I worry I'll give up before accomplishing anything, like I have in the past.

ClassyBiped

April 13 2014

HERO (INTERMISSION)

 Hero was not a bad dog, even as Bailey. He never was. His major flaw is that he was a trusting being while also technically being a wild beast.

 

Jillie launched her anti-Hero campaign after the icky feeling that started in her stomach raced up her spine and hit her brain. She was too young to understand that spite coupled with her mother’s lack of answers was the true culprit. By lack of answers, Jillie meant it was unacceptable for her own father to be kept from her like a secret. Jillie knew that he was out there. Jillie knew Dahlia spoke to him and made him silent. Jillie knew it was all a conspiracy and the stupid dog was a distraction. In turn, to Jillie’s rational, the stupid dog, was a replacement, and a poor one at that.

------------------------

Still working. Next day off is Tuesday, so that is the next day I will truly be able to work, edit, format and put my Part 1 of this story into In Design.

Worried.

Classy Biped

april 12 2014

Today I worked eight hours then came home and figured out the outline for my published piece.

It may change. It most likely will change. But I'm getting closer to the end.

***

For being a day that revolved around unfortunate events, It had turned out to also somehow be a good one. It had been three years since Kyle had left and in that time, Dahlia could count the good days between she and the girls on one hand. Watching them take to her in their own ways gave her a small sliver of hope that things were finally ready to move on.

***

ClassyBiped

April 11 2014

I've been working on my first publishing project ever and I realize how incredibly detailed it all is, and also how "self publishing'' also means ''self reliant'' (duh?). I have a more actualized grasp on the structure of my project, but I am still unconvinced that my writing is good enough or ready enough to be printed on even just one copy. I've struggled with my need for perfection for decades. It's the reason I never get anything truly done. And also the reason I became a great storyteller (liar). If I just use my imagination and my social sense, I can work my way out of anything if it means that much to me to do so.

I want to better myself through art.
I know I am a good artist.
I wish I could stay focused enough to do so.


-classybiped/coward

April 9 2014

Writing Attempt: ....attempt something.

Her mouth dried out an hour previous
Or at least that's how long it seemed to have been devoid of any cushion between itself as a functioning object and itself as a vessel for expressing the thoughts of the brain it had been sewn to.

Her fingers pruned themselves after a sly comment from the intriguing brunette occupying the cushioned bar stool next to her asked for a sip of her water. This reminded her of a study she had once been told about while sitting in this same exact spot.

"You know how your fingers get all wrinkly in water?"

"Sure."

"It's evolutionary, you know?"

"No I don't. "

"It's traction.  It's because you gotta get outta the water and fast. It's like unnecessary nowadays but you gotta admit it's cool to think about." The stranger had then felt his way to the bathroom and she never saw him again.

She looked down at her textured finger tips and smiled. Time to run.

April 7 2014

I have reprised my role as mom #2 since I arrived in San Diego.  I'm not hating it. Not at all.

April 6 2014 (AKA I'm horrible)

Writing attempt: Actually posting to the blog.

I've been in CA visiting my family, attending my brother's wedding and meeting my second niece for the first time. Suffice it to say, I haven't had time to post on here but-- except for yesterday--I have written every day like I've promised. I just have had a hard time getting around to getting online.


NOT EXCUSING MY BEHAVIOR, just honestly freaking out about the deadline I have for my class and worried that I'm 'catch-up writing' instead of directly writing and designing my piece of work.

I have decided then, to publish a Part One of at least Two. I think it will be best for my sanity and most importantly, the product. (maybe I should visa versa that)

sigh.

***

 

Jillie launched an anti Hero campaign not purely out of spite, but spite coupled with her mother’s lack of answers. By lack of answers, Jillie meant it was unacceptable for her own father to be kept from her like a secret. Jillie knew that he was out there. Jillie knew Dahlia spoke to him and made him silent. Jillie knew it was all a conspiracy and the stupid dog was a distraction. The stupid dog, was a replacement, and a poor one at that.

 

***

 

I hate to say that things are still in progress....

 

 

but such is life.

 

 

Classy Biped

April Fools Day

I have no idea why April Fools Day exists. I do know I am terrible at it. I guess I never really felt the need to pull one over on someone else. Which in many ways goes against the personality most people equate with me.

After living through this particular April Fools, here's what I've learned about myself:

Because of my ability to be hilarious every day - I am given a pass.

Because of my sense of humor and natural skills at acting - I am able to lie my way out of anything.









-----------------
did some more editing on my novella today. Worried it's not going to be ready on time


Classy Biped