jesus christ. perhaps i should put a barbed wire fence around my luscious ass. something's got to be done. i know this. i have to pee. be right back. that's better 
so how was everyone's weekend? last night i rocked out with hyde and treason at this industrial club near times square. i haven't danced like that for so long, just hours and hours and hours of head banging and bootyshaking and sliding my hands along this hot chick's fishnet dressed legs. yummy. they played the faint, nin, marilyn manson, pop will eat itself, depeche mode and a bunch of other cool shit. and there were some hot dudes there, too. i felt like i was in a gothic version of queer as folk's babylon 
hot shit, yeah, yesterday was total sex.
but i'm afraid i have some bad news. jane dystel agency rejected Demonic. i can't say i'm that surprised. it's not exactly Bridget Jones's Diary. i suppose i have to write something mainstream and then slam the mainstream with the extreme and get my gritty stuff - stuff that really matters - published later.
i just don't know
but you won't be deprived. i'll post the rest here like i've been doing. i'm SO GLAD i found christopher rice's "a density of souls" tonight used so now i can read it and it'll make this week better. it's about high school life in new orleans and how demented it is. awesome.
i feel sick. gonna go roll around in my own vomit. who wants to join me?
here's more of my rejected soul.
Demonic
***Devon***
Everything was starting to turn to shit. The diner I was supposed to meet Clyde at was closed for renovations. That was our diner. We went there all the time. Our fingerprints must have been on every menu. The waitress always knew what we wanted. The owner was a bit of a stiff upper lip but he always nodded at us from the counter where he chewed on a toothpick. Now we had to go to Minute, this shabby fast food place where Natalie worked. I phoned Clyde and told him Id be there in half an hour. Now I was pissed. Too pissed to go anywhere just then. I didnt like it when things didnt go according to plan, especially on a morning like this. It was pivotal that I just got what I wanted from start to finish. If my day didnt start with me getting what I wanted I felt like it was going to be cursed, I felt like it was going to be.what the fuck! I slammed on my gas and hollered out of my window.
BITCH! Watch where youre going! I was kind of taken back by the girl who just lollygagged out into the street. She looked like shed already been hit by a car. She paused and looked right at me, like how dare I get mad because she wasnt paying attention to where she was going. Thats when I recognized her. Id seen her around. She was a dyke. She was the worse kind of trash. She had to be from Jacksonport. I watched as she slowly continued to complete her street crossing. She looked really out of it. I didnt want to just let her walk off. I had the good mind to slam on the gas and run her over, but it was too late. She had made it safely to the curb. I could tell being called a bitch got to her. Her body seemed to stiffen. She walked differently than before, like she was crumbling on the inside and trying to build a wall around herself. I paused and glanced at the white towel in the backseat. It was rolled up like a doormat on a shelf. Inside the fluffy white towel were all kinds of medical tools and simple knives. Some might say we were going overboard on this whole torture Marhollow thing, but when it came to my disgust for him nothing would ever be enough. I stared back at the girl again. I leaned over the passengers seat and rolled my window down.
Im sorry, that was a really terrible thing to say. The girl had her back turned. She had a plump ass and other than that she was pretty skinny. She wasnt too bad looking if I got passed the awful haircut and dirty face. You okay? She looked over her shoulder.
Yes, she answered timidly.
You dont look it. Can I give you a lift somewhere? I watched as her hand raised and covered her face. Her knee gave out or something, her leg just bent suddenly, and she passed out. I got out of the car. There was no one around this early. I was a few miles from the overpass, from the land of fast food places and car dealerships. I could collect her and put her in the car and no one would see, so, thats what I did.
so how was everyone's weekend? last night i rocked out with hyde and treason at this industrial club near times square. i haven't danced like that for so long, just hours and hours and hours of head banging and bootyshaking and sliding my hands along this hot chick's fishnet dressed legs. yummy. they played the faint, nin, marilyn manson, pop will eat itself, depeche mode and a bunch of other cool shit. and there were some hot dudes there, too. i felt like i was in a gothic version of queer as folk's babylon hot shit, yeah, yesterday was total sex.
but i'm afraid i have some bad news. jane dystel agency rejected Demonic. i can't say i'm that surprised. it's not exactly Bridget Jones's Diary. i suppose i have to write something mainstream and then slam the mainstream with the extreme and get my gritty stuff - stuff that really matters - published later.
i just don't know
but you won't be deprived. i'll post the rest here like i've been doing. i'm SO GLAD i found christopher rice's "a density of souls" tonight used so now i can read it and it'll make this week better. it's about high school life in new orleans and how demented it is. awesome.
i feel sick. gonna go roll around in my own vomit. who wants to join me?
here's more of my rejected soul.
Demonic
***Devon***
Everything was starting to turn to shit. The diner I was supposed to meet Clyde at was closed for renovations. That was our diner. We went there all the time. Our fingerprints must have been on every menu. The waitress always knew what we wanted. The owner was a bit of a stiff upper lip but he always nodded at us from the counter where he chewed on a toothpick. Now we had to go to Minute, this shabby fast food place where Natalie worked. I phoned Clyde and told him Id be there in half an hour. Now I was pissed. Too pissed to go anywhere just then. I didnt like it when things didnt go according to plan, especially on a morning like this. It was pivotal that I just got what I wanted from start to finish. If my day didnt start with me getting what I wanted I felt like it was going to be cursed, I felt like it was going to be.what the fuck! I slammed on my gas and hollered out of my window.
BITCH! Watch where youre going! I was kind of taken back by the girl who just lollygagged out into the street. She looked like shed already been hit by a car. She paused and looked right at me, like how dare I get mad because she wasnt paying attention to where she was going. Thats when I recognized her. Id seen her around. She was a dyke. She was the worse kind of trash. She had to be from Jacksonport. I watched as she slowly continued to complete her street crossing. She looked really out of it. I didnt want to just let her walk off. I had the good mind to slam on the gas and run her over, but it was too late. She had made it safely to the curb. I could tell being called a bitch got to her. Her body seemed to stiffen. She walked differently than before, like she was crumbling on the inside and trying to build a wall around herself. I paused and glanced at the white towel in the backseat. It was rolled up like a doormat on a shelf. Inside the fluffy white towel were all kinds of medical tools and simple knives. Some might say we were going overboard on this whole torture Marhollow thing, but when it came to my disgust for him nothing would ever be enough. I stared back at the girl again. I leaned over the passengers seat and rolled my window down.
Im sorry, that was a really terrible thing to say. The girl had her back turned. She had a plump ass and other than that she was pretty skinny. She wasnt too bad looking if I got passed the awful haircut and dirty face. You okay? She looked over her shoulder.
Yes, she answered timidly.
You dont look it. Can I give you a lift somewhere? I watched as her hand raised and covered her face. Her knee gave out or something, her leg just bent suddenly, and she passed out. I got out of the car. There was no one around this early. I was a few miles from the overpass, from the land of fast food places and car dealerships. I could collect her and put her in the car and no one would see, so, thats what I did.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
I don't suppose anyone would call Demonic Sunday school fare; although, I gyess that depends on the parts of the Bible you read. Never give up! Keep on writing!
Give yourself an assignment. Write a book like Beethoven wrote his symphonies--in four movements. Pick a form for each movement, and go for a momentous finale. Assign it a specific length. The subject can be simple, such as your last love affair (that might have been complex?). Analyze your experience from different perspectives. It doesn't have to be a crash, boom, bang ending, but just unique. It will be better than Bridgit Jones, and I'll bet you'll find it most meaningful.