21 thoughts on “Writer’s Log: 2477 – a wintry reflection”
Wow…I hope this piece is not one of the pieces your inner Editor dislikes! Seriously, I could see every moment, feel every emotion. And I love Trash.
You, Sir, write beautifully. Don’t you dare deny it. -glares-
Hey I really enjoyed this! The philosophizing adds a deeper layer to it that makes you feel the guy’s unraveling, especially in the moments when his robe flaps open in the wind and when he slips and stares at the ceiling. These are the moments that become iconic in a story.
I thought describing taste as ‘colorless’ was brilliant.
I definitely felt the cold, which made me sympathize with the main character. Trash was a great addition to the story. Kinda overtook the story, if I may say so.
Your writing produces a steady stream of sadness, rather than dwell in waterfalls of happiness, and the sadness is multiplying. That has readers going back to the beginning of the work, where the emotions — established by your gentle writer’s hand — go to work on changing us, the readers, when our eyes seek out a truth. The only truth out there turns out to be allegorical, a nonchanging surprise, giving us the shivers after all we’ve read. The shivers come and go.
evidence that a family, my family once lived here. It’s the messes we leave behind that we remember. Was it a delicious meal, a touching conversation? Who remembers? Don’t get me crying now about the friends and family and memories that are passing and will slowly be absorbed back into the void. Did I exist at all?
It’s the “doing” isn’t it. The doing builds the memories. The “done”? I’m trying not to focus on the outcome so much. Sure I’ll hone the work as best I can. But hopefully I can bend my mind to ignore everything but the doing.
It is the doing. With the knowledge that the Universe will cease to exist–either through heat death, vacuum death, entropy or collapsing upon itself–I suppose we must constantly ask ourselves what is important and why? Beyond basic survival.
It’s human hubris to believe we are so special that our lives have to have meaning outside of ourselves. The meaning of all life is simply to live. As humans, we may be forgiven for believing that living /well/ and being the best that we are capable of being is /our/ purpose. Honestly though, the universe doesn’t give a flying fruit bat. 🙂
This was excellent, Lear-like at times, and the relationship between the main character and Trash was so well-developed. That section about the ceiling really brought home the sense of isolation and loss, but the promise of spring in the air left me feeling a little hopeful for him.
Wow man! Be the water! (I think Bruce Lee actually said, “be the water…) This is a great piece. A bit deeper than usual…but yeah, if the damn cat can do it, why not you? Us? Out, damn cat, out!
For a considerable number of stanzas this was Shakespeare in a house coat. What, no fuzzy house shoes and coffee in a bowl? But really, why not go with a Shakespeare vib for the whole piece? You have the frame and the Bobcat is something he would have loved.
Oh well, forsooth nobody ever takes my unsolicited advice. Duke
Anonymole - apocryphal agitators 
Wow…I hope this piece is not one of the pieces your inner Editor dislikes! Seriously, I could see every moment, feel every emotion. And I love Trash.
You, Sir, write beautifully. Don’t you dare deny it. -glares-
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Thanks, know that your opinion has sway with me. Yes, there is some elbow grease in this one.
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It’s /good/, Mole, very good.
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Hey I really enjoyed this! The philosophizing adds a deeper layer to it that makes you feel the guy’s unraveling, especially in the moments when his robe flaps open in the wind and when he slips and stares at the ceiling. These are the moments that become iconic in a story.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I thought describing taste as ‘colorless’ was brilliant.
I definitely felt the cold, which made me sympathize with the main character. Trash was a great addition to the story. Kinda overtook the story, if I may say so.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your writing produces a steady stream of sadness, rather than dwell in waterfalls of happiness, and the sadness is multiplying. That has readers going back to the beginning of the work, where the emotions — established by your gentle writer’s hand — go to work on changing us, the readers, when our eyes seek out a truth. The only truth out there turns out to be allegorical, a nonchanging surprise, giving us the shivers after all we’ve read. The shivers come and go.
— Catxman
http://www.catxman.wordpress.com
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Momma always said miserable is as miserable does.
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You caught that miserableness of winter well. Well done. I hope you like rabbit stew!
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evidence that a family, my family once lived here. It’s the messes we leave behind that we remember. Was it a delicious meal, a touching conversation? Who remembers? Don’t get me crying now about the friends and family and memories that are passing and will slowly be absorbed back into the void. Did I exist at all?
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s the “doing” isn’t it. The doing builds the memories. The “done”? I’m trying not to focus on the outcome so much. Sure I’ll hone the work as best I can. But hopefully I can bend my mind to ignore everything but the doing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is the doing. With the knowledge that the Universe will cease to exist–either through heat death, vacuum death, entropy or collapsing upon itself–I suppose we must constantly ask ourselves what is important and why? Beyond basic survival.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s human hubris to believe we are so special that our lives have to have meaning outside of ourselves. The meaning of all life is simply to live. As humans, we may be forgiven for believing that living /well/ and being the best that we are capable of being is /our/ purpose. Honestly though, the universe doesn’t give a flying fruit bat. 🙂
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No one disagrees.
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This was excellent, Lear-like at times, and the relationship between the main character and Trash was so well-developed. That section about the ceiling really brought home the sense of isolation and loss, but the promise of spring in the air left me feeling a little hopeful for him.
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I love how detailed you are. We can see, hear, smell, taste your stories.
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Wow man! Be the water! (I think Bruce Lee actually said, “be the water…) This is a great piece. A bit deeper than usual…but yeah, if the damn cat can do it, why not you? Us? Out, damn cat, out!
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Thanks, GF.
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For a considerable number of stanzas this was Shakespeare in a house coat. What, no fuzzy house shoes and coffee in a bowl? But really, why not go with a Shakespeare vib for the whole piece? You have the frame and the Bobcat is something he would have loved.
Oh well, forsooth nobody ever takes my unsolicited advice. Duke
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I see that now. I hated reading Shakespeare – meant for performance, meant for 16th century Brits. Any time one reads the word ‘tempest’…
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Boo!
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Will-I-Am one of your favorites, was he?
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