I thought I'd share another piece of poor writing. It's called "The Water Tower." There's a water tower in the middle of my town that I absolutely hate. It's ugly, and tall, and ugly. I wanted to write something Palahniuk-ian about it. This is what I came up with.
I smirked as I flicked the last of my cigarette into the barren field. I was satisfied with my night's work.
I had grown tired of the ugly behemoth of a water tower. Painted white, with a big, ugly, blue "M" on it's side, I hated that water tower. I spent weeks standing in this field, staring at the tower, with the orange backlight from the cement plant in the distance. I hated that water tower. I plotted for weeks. Weeks. Countless hours I spent planning my revenge on that tower for disturbing my skyline. I never gave it permission to ruin my horizon. Before that tower I could see for miles. Then that tower came, and all I could see was that fucking big white tower. I hated that tower. The difficult part of the planning was getting to the top. Fenced off with razor wire, and lit up like the fucking christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, anyone could see me climbing to the top. I stole a city workers uniform from the dry cleaners. Handy tip, for $50, most employees will let you dig through the clothes. For $50, most employees will tell a client the clothes were lost. Clothes get lost all the time at a dry cleaners. The other hard part was how to get my equipment to the top. 400 pounds is heavy. I'm a skinny motherfucker. 400 pounds, skinny motherfuckers and tall towers don't mix well. I found a way though. But that's my secret. For now at least. Who knows, maybe by the end of this I'll tell you. Point is, I got it there. I left another 400 pounds at the base. I wanted this fucking tower gone. I took a casual stroll, not too quick, not too slow, to the barren field where I'd spent so much time screaming at the tower. I pulled out my ipod, and just as I got to my favorite seconds of my favorite song, I hit the button. Boom. Bye-bye tower. What a sight, the tower crumbling, the water pouring down. My only regret is that the water put out all of the fire, so I couldn't see the fucker burn. But I am satisfied.
I hated that fucking tower.
I smirked as I flicked the last of my cigarette into the barren field. I was satisfied with my night's work.
I had grown tired of the ugly behemoth of a water tower. Painted white, with a big, ugly, blue "M" on it's side, I hated that water tower. I spent weeks standing in this field, staring at the tower, with the orange backlight from the cement plant in the distance. I hated that water tower. I plotted for weeks. Weeks. Countless hours I spent planning my revenge on that tower for disturbing my skyline. I never gave it permission to ruin my horizon. Before that tower I could see for miles. Then that tower came, and all I could see was that fucking big white tower. I hated that tower. The difficult part of the planning was getting to the top. Fenced off with razor wire, and lit up like the fucking christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, anyone could see me climbing to the top. I stole a city workers uniform from the dry cleaners. Handy tip, for $50, most employees will let you dig through the clothes. For $50, most employees will tell a client the clothes were lost. Clothes get lost all the time at a dry cleaners. The other hard part was how to get my equipment to the top. 400 pounds is heavy. I'm a skinny motherfucker. 400 pounds, skinny motherfuckers and tall towers don't mix well. I found a way though. But that's my secret. For now at least. Who knows, maybe by the end of this I'll tell you. Point is, I got it there. I left another 400 pounds at the base. I wanted this fucking tower gone. I took a casual stroll, not too quick, not too slow, to the barren field where I'd spent so much time screaming at the tower. I pulled out my ipod, and just as I got to my favorite seconds of my favorite song, I hit the button. Boom. Bye-bye tower. What a sight, the tower crumbling, the water pouring down. My only regret is that the water put out all of the fire, so I couldn't see the fucker burn. But I am satisfied.
I hated that fucking tower.
deriecherie:
hating packing! but otherwise good... you?
deriecherie:
moving is almost done now.. just a last trip tom or tues then ill be done I got a bit sun burnt doin it too!