Cock o’ the walk? http://ift.tt/1fkMued
Time is a created thing. To say ‘I don’t have time,’ is like saying, ‘I don’t want to.
Thích Nhất Hạnh (via purplebuddhaproject)
Oh, this is a good one. Need to keep this in mind next time I say I don’t have time.
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Maybe I’ll write a book of just a whole bunch of fragments, pieced together, characters completely unrelated to each other, and let the reader suss out the connections. Here, I just wrote a fragment:
“I really do believe that man is good at heart.”
Loretta leaned against her ladder, inhaled deeply on her cigarette, and then smashed her hand against the wall. A moment later, the freshly laid wallpaper curled off the wall for the second time.
“The guys who make this wallpaper, though, are real sons of bitches.”
“Don’t be callin’ nobody bitches, Loretta,” Geraldine screeched from across the room.
“I wasn’t talking about bitches, mama. Just their sons.”
Geraldine, roosting in the wing tip chair across the room, reached across her walker and picked up a pack of cigarettes from the side table. She lit one up and stuck it in the hole in her throat. She meditated on Loretta’s words for a moment. When the cigarette came back out of the hole, she had her answer.
“If somebody else done and called ‘em a bitch, then youse can go ahead and talk about their sons as such and so forth. But if you were the one that were up and callin’ them ladies bitches, then you ain’t got no ground to stand on. Youse might be a bitch yourself, then.”
Loretta looked down at the ladder beneath her.
“Looks like I already don’t have any ground to stand on.”
She hit the wall again with a loud thwap.
“Don’t go and break them walls now, Loretta.”
“Do you want roses on your wallpaper or not, mama?”
She got little more than a grumble in reply.
“I saw Chip from the milk store this morning, down at the home improvement store. He’s making a deck in his backyard.”
Geraldine looked askance at Loretta. Moved the cigarette back to her throat.
“I asked him if his wife was the one making him do it. He said he wasn’t married. Can you imagine that? A nice, good-looking fellow like that—not married?”
Geraldine put out her cigarette.
“I done told you. How many times?”
“I’m not living here forever, mama.”
Another thwap to the wall.
“What you think you doing, getting together with some milk store man? You got yourself a PhD, Loretta! You an educated woman!”
“Yeah, my Anthropology degree was the first reason why they hired me as assistant manager at the Cracker Barrel.”
“Just be glad you don’t have to pay no rent on that salary.”
“Yes, thank you, mama. Just what I always wanted, mama.”
A part of me, though, wants to be civil and try to explain to him why this is so wrong and hopefully help educate him. But I’m not sure how receptive he’d be and if it’s worth my time. Did I mention there were also a million typos, and even characters with the wrong names, making the entire thing totally confusing and a pain in the ass to read? This begs a philosophical question: can you teach an idiotic asshole to be less of an idiot and an asshole?
That awkward moment when someone you hardly know asks you to read a script of theirs and give notes, barely says thank you, and then the script is the most misogynistic piece of shit you’ve ever read…
I tried so hard to give the benefit of the doubt and pin it more on a poorly written character than on the author, but as soon as the line about college being a place to “have sex with semi-unconscious bitches” came up, I had to put it down. This guy isn’t getting a single note from me, besides maybe, “Fuck off.” Imma probably block him on facebook, too. I don’t need this filth anywhere near my life.
I sense much burn in this one. http://ift.tt/1mxgQUG
Capilano Suspension Bridge in Vancouver! rose-mary-jane
One of my favorite places ever.
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