Friday, May 30, 2008
THE TITLE IS: DELAYS AND DEADLY WONDERINGS
I'm sorry for the delay in releasing REFRESHING BORING DEADLY but personal issues have keep me off the computer and mostly in a daze of feeling like shit and thinking like shit internally, if that makes any sense to anyone but me? The little story thing in the last post is the type of fiction I write when working through feelings in my brain. For the most part those end up in the trash or just in paper journals but I thought I would share a little of my madness, you can thank me later.
I guess every since I left my last job, through struggles and failures in trying to help friends, being betrayed by friends, being salad sided with the constant pain of my teeth, being hospitalized, being shown that no matter how bad my health is- money changes everything, feeling like crap in the job search...I guess with all of those things and others like having to sale my truck, I'm digging myself out of a grave of deep depression that is one hand full of dirt at a time. Wave has been a saint for putting up with me.
From now on I think I will concentrate on the projects I have to work on, the big ones, and not bring in too many little things like REFRESHING BORING DEADLY. I will finish R.B.D. and other small projects; which will be sometimes free and sometimes for a small charge but I think I will do them simply as side projects, at my own pace, and only announce when finished. I also need to keep up on outside my writing life things that keep me sane like going to the gym, keeping up with our new little garden area, cleaning the apartment and keeping it clean, cooking, and enjoying having someone in my life who I love more than anything else in the world....Yes Wave, more than my Doctor Who stuff :)
Currently I'm working on a YA book, I have a idea for another YA book which I want to write with a friend, I have the next book in the Tin Universe series in progress, and a charity project. Not to say I will not be doing anything outside of these things if lets say a paying project or an interesting non-paying project comes along, I'm there, but I need focus. My body and mind right now does not have focus and I need to take charge of the whole mess and make something of it no matter how I feel.
C.
I guess every since I left my last job, through struggles and failures in trying to help friends, being betrayed by friends, being salad sided with the constant pain of my teeth, being hospitalized, being shown that no matter how bad my health is- money changes everything, feeling like crap in the job search...I guess with all of those things and others like having to sale my truck, I'm digging myself out of a grave of deep depression that is one hand full of dirt at a time. Wave has been a saint for putting up with me.
From now on I think I will concentrate on the projects I have to work on, the big ones, and not bring in too many little things like REFRESHING BORING DEADLY. I will finish R.B.D. and other small projects; which will be sometimes free and sometimes for a small charge but I think I will do them simply as side projects, at my own pace, and only announce when finished. I also need to keep up on outside my writing life things that keep me sane like going to the gym, keeping up with our new little garden area, cleaning the apartment and keeping it clean, cooking, and enjoying having someone in my life who I love more than anything else in the world....Yes Wave, more than my Doctor Who stuff :)
Currently I'm working on a YA book, I have a idea for another YA book which I want to write with a friend, I have the next book in the Tin Universe series in progress, and a charity project. Not to say I will not be doing anything outside of these things if lets say a paying project or an interesting non-paying project comes along, I'm there, but I need focus. My body and mind right now does not have focus and I need to take charge of the whole mess and make something of it no matter how I feel.
C.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
RESOLUTION 1974
Remembering a poem she once wrote.
There are ghosts in the sunshine beading down upon her face,
Whispering spirits brushing against her lips trying to get her to sing,
Her eyes are open to her own death,
Laying in the grass tasting her own breath,
Nothing tastes as fine as saying just what you mean,
The building houses The Teriyaki Club publishing company. The first floor is the P.R. offices, up one and you find the management cubes, up two and there is the art department slaving away, the fourth floor is overloaded with lawyers, and on the top floor are the in-house writers...ok, they have two in house writers and the rest of the space on the fifth floor is crowded with storage boxes but really, what need does a publisher have with writers?
The roof of the building is flat with pebbles all over its surface of tar and metal, two inches thick with pebbles like the bottom of a goldfish's world.
Her boots make the pebbles almost crackle against each other as she walks from end to end, corner to corner, trying to cover the pebbles with the last drops of gas from her truck.
Standing on the edge of the roof she sets off two Zippos. As she steps forward she tosses both of them over her shoulders and as she drifts down onto the fifth floor fire escape the gasoline screams out into the night.
During the trip down the fire escapes which safe haven each floor she knows she now is the storyteller she always wanted to be.
And to the images of the frightened fleeing the building walked out of an alleyway the image of his dream dying. She walked across the street and leaned against the outside of an Army recruitment center.
A character description from the top down as she watches the fire explode in anger as it hits each floor is ear length pink and white hair, skin as white as light, dollar store sunglasses, a black short sleeved shirt covered by a dark brown vest, tattoos of prayers that do down each arm, long nails painted dark blue, black jeans, and black used combat boots.
Here comes the storyteller, the firestarter, the reaper of words. For those with dreams she is the unwanted faith. For those of despair she will turn her head because no martyr will she be to your causes. In time you will call hatred in her face, call hack with shards of glass, and get confused by her rejection of the station. No poet or folksinger, no rock star opera singer, no breast feeding mouth horse will be safe from an interrupted badge. Through extreme teens and devil pockets the fires and stories will burn on.
She leans herself off of the death dealer's wall and turns and walks down the street remembering a poem she wrote.
She rises from the grassy moisture,
She stands on her feet,
She looks into the sky and sees the smokes blackness taking over,
She slowly weeps,
Turning down her eyes she see a pawn walking in opposite of being told,
She is inspired now to be bold,
(C)brian c. williams
There are ghosts in the sunshine beading down upon her face,
Whispering spirits brushing against her lips trying to get her to sing,
Her eyes are open to her own death,
Laying in the grass tasting her own breath,
Nothing tastes as fine as saying just what you mean,
The building houses The Teriyaki Club publishing company. The first floor is the P.R. offices, up one and you find the management cubes, up two and there is the art department slaving away, the fourth floor is overloaded with lawyers, and on the top floor are the in-house writers...ok, they have two in house writers and the rest of the space on the fifth floor is crowded with storage boxes but really, what need does a publisher have with writers?
The roof of the building is flat with pebbles all over its surface of tar and metal, two inches thick with pebbles like the bottom of a goldfish's world.
Her boots make the pebbles almost crackle against each other as she walks from end to end, corner to corner, trying to cover the pebbles with the last drops of gas from her truck.
Standing on the edge of the roof she sets off two Zippos. As she steps forward she tosses both of them over her shoulders and as she drifts down onto the fifth floor fire escape the gasoline screams out into the night.
During the trip down the fire escapes which safe haven each floor she knows she now is the storyteller she always wanted to be.
And to the images of the frightened fleeing the building walked out of an alleyway the image of his dream dying. She walked across the street and leaned against the outside of an Army recruitment center.
A character description from the top down as she watches the fire explode in anger as it hits each floor is ear length pink and white hair, skin as white as light, dollar store sunglasses, a black short sleeved shirt covered by a dark brown vest, tattoos of prayers that do down each arm, long nails painted dark blue, black jeans, and black used combat boots.
Here comes the storyteller, the firestarter, the reaper of words. For those with dreams she is the unwanted faith. For those of despair she will turn her head because no martyr will she be to your causes. In time you will call hatred in her face, call hack with shards of glass, and get confused by her rejection of the station. No poet or folksinger, no rock star opera singer, no breast feeding mouth horse will be safe from an interrupted badge. Through extreme teens and devil pockets the fires and stories will burn on.
She leans herself off of the death dealer's wall and turns and walks down the street remembering a poem she wrote.
She rises from the grassy moisture,
She stands on her feet,
She looks into the sky and sees the smokes blackness taking over,
She slowly weeps,
Turning down her eyes she see a pawn walking in opposite of being told,
She is inspired now to be bold,
(C)brian c. williams
Friday, May 23, 2008
THE TITLE IS: FOREVER?
REFRESHING BORING DEADLY will be delayed until Friday night due to my health and generally feeling like shit mentally and physically. Apologizes to all were planning on downloading it.
Projects, dreams,trucks,family, thoughts of dying, bills, and thoughts of fading out of existence. There you have a look into the state of mind of this writer.
C.
Projects, dreams,trucks,family, thoughts of dying, bills, and thoughts of fading out of existence. There you have a look into the state of mind of this writer.
C.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
THE TITLE IS: THERE ONCE WAS A LITTLE MAN WHO COULDN'T DO IT...
I will be putting my truck up for sale, actually someone has already told me they will buy it in the middle of next month. The truck has mostly just sat in the parking lot since I left my last job because Wave's car is better on gas, drive, and everything else. I really don't wont to do this but for many reasons it is the best course of action for me to take right now. I walked in Florida for a few years before I purchased my truck and it looks like I'll be doing so again. One it needs work done to it that I can't afford to have done, two it burns gas, three when I finally find a job it would have to be within walking distance anyways because of gas prices so I might as well get rid of it, and three I need the money. I need the money to buy my love a birthday gift, I need money to pay bills, and I need money so I will not feel like a total worthless piece of shit sitting around being shit and playing writer boy.
Speaking of writer boy. The PDF for the dollar download collection REFRESHING BORING DEADLY will be linked up from here tonight as I'm currently working on last minute, "THIS IS TOTAL SHIT! THIS IS TOTAL SHIT!" edits.
C.
Speaking of writer boy. The PDF for the dollar download collection REFRESHING BORING DEADLY will be linked up from here tonight as I'm currently working on last minute, "THIS IS TOTAL SHIT! THIS IS TOTAL SHIT!" edits.
C.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
THE TITLE IS: THE NIGHT THE CATS CAME OUT OF THE CLOSET
I was sitting in the living room floor last night watching Doctor Who and Garfield as usual was asleep beside me when Salem walked up to him and started licking his head to wake him up. After Garfield woke Salem continued licking his head and then Garfield leaned back and started licking Salem's neck and Salem returned the favor on Garfield's neck. Then Garfield put his head down and snuggled up to Salem's belly as Salem licked his stomach.
I love our gay boys.
Kidding aside, Garfield and Salem really do love each other and they are always laying right beside each other or playing or putting some loves on us. Our little family.
Wave just gave me a kiss and read this over my shoulder and said, "Don't tell everyone about my gay cats, you have no right to out someone else."
C.
I love our gay boys.
Kidding aside, Garfield and Salem really do love each other and they are always laying right beside each other or playing or putting some loves on us. Our little family.
Wave just gave me a kiss and read this over my shoulder and said, "Don't tell everyone about my gay cats, you have no right to out someone else."
C.
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