Thoughts

Today I sat down on the porch and told myself that I wouldn't get up until I had written something fricking beautiful. The impetus was that I kept wasting obscene amounts of time on the internet instead of doing homework. This wasn't strictly homework, of course, but it was better than reading webcomics for hours on end. Certainly it was more conducive to mental function, at any rate.
Anyway, here's some of the fricking beautiful writing I came up with (Ha, ha, ha):


I wonder if we would all get along better if we all admitted that we have no idea what we're doing and stop being so presumptuous. But, no, we would still get jerks because they would have to be all like, "I don't know what I'm doing MORE than you." ...

The more I thought
The more it degraded
Aren't these metaphors, now
Just like the ones I so hated?

So much irony: misspelling misspell. And of course people do it all the time.

The setting sun was shining through the leaves like through a cathedral window, bathing everything in a fiery light.

There is a lot to be said about autumn, especially the deciduous kind. We write that it is the summer's final blaze of glory before death, a fire burning in the leaves, a melancholy time of inevitable defeat.  We like to make it a metaphor for our lives, or all our lives. It stirs an emotion in us. It reminds us of our own mortality.
What a shame for people in tropical climes. They have no seasonal mechanism to remind them of their own mortality. That must be why they're so fricking happy.

If I were a spider, I'd write words in my web like Charlotte, like, "Do not remove this web. Will result in prosecution." Or, "I don't bite." or "I don't weave in your house. Don't walk into my web." or "I surf the web."
If I were a spider, I would be very unhappy because I would be unable to proceed past the first level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. I would be unable to achieve self-actualization. Also spiders don't live very long. And they eat bugs. And they can't go to college.


Then I wrote a short story about a character of mine who gives a demon teddy bear to an annoying child on the bus. She's not very nice, but neither was the kid. I have a long abiding hatred for children on buses.

How's that for some quality writing?!