Monday, September 13, 2010

I Just Want To Sleep Now Please.

I meant to have made more blog posts by now but my weekends been insane. Work was nuts--had a woman refuse to leave the store after we'd closed, and then corner me outside after I'd left. Am now investing in a sneakoscope. Then I got to watch one of my bests mates seduce an older woman whilst I sat next to his fiancé--I was forced to clap, too, because he did it with such finesse (sorry Julia!)


...

That sounds evil, doesn't it? I should probably explain. That was his major work for Acting School--and it was effing brilliant. Now he's the only one of the lot I know, so I'll rave about the others for moment--though all were good, the third couple performing Savage River were excellent. The lad playing tiger played simple eagerness with a subtlety that were perfectly matched against the highly skilled cursing of the lady playing Jude. Mark that, kids--the ability to swear with skill is a highly underrated, yet vastly important skill. And you can hear when curse words sit badly upon a tongue.

The Ruby Moon performance, about parents figuring out how to mourn an abducted daughter, rang with a poignancy following young Keisha's abduction, yet the female lead broke my heart, a fact set up and based upon her male counter-part. And the second Boyce scene--the graceful carnality of Gillian so perfectly carved up the heavy material they were dealing with. But all were good. The duel scenes from Speaking in Tongues was well played side by side, all of the Savage River scenes worked together to give a view of the story. I was at no stages bored--but Dave was best. :)

I'm biased of course. And vaguely fearful of his fiancé. But I'll be damned if a pair that can combine the use of an oboe and the correct identification of caviar into a tale of cougar seduction aren't fracking talented, especially when undercutting it with the slightly morbid fascination with death. I don't claim to be some great reviewer, but God Damn!

As for today--wrote 923 words in four hours, which is a pittance to the usual three or so thousand--but they were damned hard words to write, and they're good. Which is all that matters.

Let's see... proof I done write real good for today... Umm... here is something I wrote last night at 3am, which creeps me out. It's called The Priest (and hasn't been edited).

He remembered what the priest done. Not the fiddling. Always the fucking fiddling, that was the priests sin, so they said. Bullshit. The fucking fiddling was just like every other damn thing a man can do. The sin of the priests weren’t all specific like that. They could fiddle and they could kill and they could lie like a dirt-cheap sailor. That’s the sin of the priest—they’re just fucking men saying they’re something more. You trust those fuckers, and they mess with your head. You never escape that. From then on you see the world as they want you to see it, and you ain’t never gonna break away from it. Not if they fiddle you. Not if they serve you sweet fucking wine on their knees.

You’re like that till you die. Greatest fucking thing a priest can do for you is kill you.

Done I Write Real Good? Or did I just creep the fuck out of you? :)

4 comments:

  1. The emotion I felt from it is really powerful. Not because of the creepy content but because you introduced not a character but a person.

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  2. Lol. I'm considering bringing him into a story. Not the Daughter of Simon Foster--he doesn't fit. Possibly the Soulweaver Cycle, which is next.

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  3. I felt chills there, the sign of great writing for me is the chill factor i get from it - and that worked. Would love to read more of your work Luckers.

    Ama

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  4. So it is a him? I couldn't figure it out. This sounds like a good opener to a story though - more?

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