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    dots Submission Name: If you're feeling sinisterdots

    Author: orderly conduct
    Elite Ratio:    2.44 - 51/80/36
    Words: 578
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 735
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3127

       The title is a belle and sebastian cd and song which i had to rip off or i wouldnt feel at peace. I dont know if i feel proud of this piece at all.but my computers gone, my musics gone, my writings gone, and my pictures gone . These are my excuses if its bad. Review please.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsIf you're feeling sinisterdots

    When the weather became sunnier he would walk a mile and a half in hopes of a better way to spend his time. To take off your glasses while walking towards the place youíve mistakenly labeled home everything is blurry enough to make yourself settle back into the comfortable adaptation you called your dream. To stumble in a somewhat awkward angle with the fingers put into your pockets, freezing at the tips, some sort of comfort following you while you slip and catch your balance throughout the process of crawling up that hill to the train station we called beautiful. And there you stood. On the edge, under the rain, with soft hair and dry lips. Cracked and chapped in results of ignorance and lack of worry. Your shoes are fading in color; your scarf is irrelevant as always and youíre waiting. Youíre waiting and blinking for much too long thinking, how much longer you should wait until someone comes and pushes you. What you wouldnít give for a shade of color seems distant and irresponsible now. There are no more cigarettes left for unconvincing comfort. There are no more wretched people lingering softly near your shoulders, playfully asking you to come and join them. With nothing to offer but yourself and perfectly timed remarks to seem intellectual and caught up in this stupid and sick knot of lies. Choking on your breath you cough and cough until the idea of disappearing is being darkened and outlined in your head. Unlike the high-strung kids with too much things to say you donít have tears to blink back or close enough friends to confess these secluded lies too. You only have headaches and instable answers to offer yourself and the lady at the bus station. You're staring outside your own eyes, trying to see out into the cloudy sky, but all you can see is your own face. Your tarnished flesh and haggard hair. There is this coffee station down the block. There is an advertisement posted there. Last year it was for two things: the new band and pregnancy tests. The advertisement has changed. Now it says "take your mind off your weight." We say we're getting better, but we know who we really are. Nothing ever works out in the way your ego plans. Is this something to be grateful for? There are always these people, being canny and great at the same time. There isnít enough love to pass around, there isnít enough lies to keep repeating. These highs and lows will only make you say Ďlife should never feel this good. You havenít regretted getting out of bed this much since yesterday and the day before and the day before and the day before. And you think, youíre searching through these incredible letters, these incredible speeches trying to desperately find out who you were, and who you are and who she was and how we all got along fine with each other. But you can still plainly say that if this step wasnít taken you can enjoy walking to the ocean and lying low in your own skin feeling the wind whip against your eyes, your hair and your cold cold face. So you breathe in and lay down on the cement thinking, the sky is too blue for its own good.

    Submitted on 2006-04-22 02:41:17     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      You're back. I'm not.
    Like how I can't take Danny's acting seriously, most of the time, I dislike your writing. It's (pretencious) for words, and it's misleading. Misleading because I almost always understand (too much) how pathetic we are in real life. I must say you're getting better. When you're not too busy narrating yourself, something comes through. Modesty? (God Bless!)! Honesty? (Holy Moly Fu.cker)!. The opposite of passive-aggresive (you bet). Now that I've made myself sound lame and untrustworthy. i can tell you, this sounds like it was written for the right reasons. For technical critique, and not false shoplifting.
    so this is my critique.
    I can see you in this. Although I agree with the commentor before me, the paragraph form seems justified. You're not good enough to make this sound. you just proved that. your writing is extremely clever. though not jerk-like. You're pleasing. almost.(sorry).

    "take your mind off your weight."
    makes me want to show real emotions. and I don't even know if you actually wrote this or just ripped it off a real advertising.

    "There isnít enough love to pass around,"

    I don't even know if this write is happy. but I hope you are.
    oh and PS. i thought the first line should have read
    "When the weather became sinister.."
    oh man, that would have floored me.
    | Posted on 2006-04-22 00:00:00 | by denial | [ Reply to This ]
      This was a pleasant read. Originally I had thought that the narrator was talking directly towards another person. Then, I started to think.. perhaps indirectly speaking to them. Next, I realized it probably was the narrator talking to themselves. I like the descriptions.
    'Cracked and chapped in results of ignorance and lack of worry. Your shoes are fading in color; your scarf is irrelevant as always and youíre waiting.'
    It gave an effect and a cause.. or reason. One thing that I disliked was how it was just one giant paragraph. Although it seems fitting to write like that sometimes, it can start to get difficult to read.
    I'm not really sure what exactly this is all about, but you executed something really well.

    | Posted on 2006-04-22 00:00:00 | by Mooku | [ Reply to This ]
      "your scarf is irrelevant as always and youíre waiting." I see someone else mentioned this line as well. It's beautiful. Actually, you use a lot of well executed imagery.

    Did you mean to be unclear with your tenses, singulars and plurals? I can see how this style of writing would benefit from that "words are more emotional than logical fumbling around in your mouth easier to just spit them out then worry about the pretext" style, but it is a bit unclear and a little confusing.

    The angst you present is of the rare kind that is actually descriptive and not just raw and painful. It doesn't feel like nails on a chalkboard (excuse the clichť). For this i applaud you, but have you ever considered mixing some humor in there to break it up a bit? There is something to be said about telling a sad story with wit and humor because even in tragedy there is usually something to laugh at. Also it keeps the author from sounding too pretentious and or taking themselves too seriously.

    All in all I started out thinking i was not going to like this peice but quickly realised that i would. Nice job. Reads like a rough draft, but a good one.
    | Posted on 2006-05-17 00:00:00 | by jmsmith | [ Reply to This ]
      This felt like a cold early early spring day I had around 1999. The way you write is so vivd I could feel so much of what you wrote. my fingers froze, I felt my haggard hair blowing around my face, and I saw ads plastered to walls (those ads were a nice touch, by the way). Good naration... I bet it would be even more vivid to someone who knows you or the places you go, but I picture it all in my world, and it works.
    oh technicality... I see both sides of the paragraph debate over this write. I read to feel, but others without mad comprehension skills/jk might struggle to make sense of some parts. A little revision to include paragraph breaks might help that. I'm not good at deciding where to place a paragraph or shoot... even how to punctuate half of what I write - I'm a word person not a tiny dots and dashes person.
    wish the scarf kept you warmer
    take care
    | Posted on 2006-06-23 00:00:00 | by parabola | [ Reply to This ]

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