What does the (___) Say? Fill in the blank!

My clothes, bunched in a pile Hiding inside wicker, A fragile basket After a cleansing wash And a bout with tumble dry Wanting to be rid of all dirt Smells, and experiences Of the last week Or any week’s past I’m not ready to hang them In their place Where plastic hangers Await to […]

via Seeking The Ultimate Mismatch — Elan Mudrow

This is a fabulous poetry author who writes better imagery than Bob Dylan. She’s a breath of fresh air after reading blog after blog (which I enjoy!) It’s a quick bite of something sour and sweet, like Sour Skittles or dark chocolate with sea salt sprinkled n it.  Not that her subjects are sour. It’s more like a quick “WHOOAA!” that’s genius! And then an “Awww” of appreciation. See? Sour and sweet!

I wanted to share this because her article sparked a curious “WHAT IF” for me. What if THINGS could write stories? People everywhere ask that all the time of old museum pieces and old houses and clothes worn way back when. “I bet they’d have some stories to tell!” What if they COULD write?

*PFFFFTTT!*<—sound of my mind blowing.

Really, THINK about it. That’s like, trying to comprehend all of Space or the Ocean all at one time. I’m sorry, my brain can’t bend that much. “There is no spoon” just doesn’t cut it for me. I’m all about big pictures but trying to imagine every inanimate thing chattering about their life like humans do? Oh GAWD. There would never be an peace.

Wouldn’t it be funny though if that house built back in the 1840’s could write a book? Wouldn’t it be funnier if it was published? No, that’s not funny. That’s degrading. *sad face* As if I don’t have enough anxiety about writing now, I have to imagine competing against my couch too? Sheesh…

Ohhhh but it would be entertaining! Could you imagine the truths and the lies that these things could tell? The famous white dress that Marilyn Monroe wore. What would it say about it’s continued fame? Would it be pleased? You have to imagine it would be! All those adoring fans! Plus hugging the curves of one of the most beautiful and iconic women America has ever seen? Ohhhh boy! I want to hear those stories!

And what about the car that drove John F. Kennedy the day he was shot? Does it mourn the death of it’s owner? Or is it mad now that it’s a museum piece, retired after only a short time in service, like a wounded but honored veteran? WOW.

How about The Grand Ol’ Opry in Nashville, Tennesse? The music that vibrated throughout it’s foundation and up through it’s boards to pour out the doors and windows. It must still hear echoes and cry tears of happiness. Or Radio City Music Hall in New York? It must be bursting to tell us what goes on behind the scenes! The fights, the gossip, the scandals! Or perhaps it’s jealous of merely being an audience member and it aches to sing and dance it’s own imagined number.

Doesn’t it boggle the mind, the possibilities? And it that’s not enough to make you wonder, then what about something more personal, like your baby blanket? If it could talk to you, would it sing you your favorite lullaby? Would it tell you about it’s favorite adventures with you romping through the backyard jungle or strolling with you through Paris Champs Elysees at Christmas time? Would it show you all it’s stains and battle scars and puff out it’s chest with pride that it survived childhood with you?

What about your engagement ring? The moment it’s revealed to the recipient—how would it describe that? The skyrocketing joy, the tears, the uncertainty vibrating from the man (or woman!) holding it? Would the metal absorb the intimate and joyful moment and keep it secret, like a time capsule for memories? Would that same engagement ring feel deep sadness if it was laid aside and hid in a jewelry box because of the painful divorce?

What would a simple clothes hamper have to say? Why don’t YOU think about it for awhile.

It really does make you wonder. And the possibilities are ENDLESS. I would love to walk into a museum and listen to what Ptolemy’s mummy had to say to me (although I’d have to get a smart phone with google translate on it). Or Marie Antoinette’s dresses. Or the sword of William Wallace.

Gosh. Alright, no more mind/spoon bending attempts for me. I’ll just bask in the wonder. You too, friends. You too. Good luck comprehending Space as well 🙂


This is not a Human…I mean Pipe

this is not a pipe

French makes everything classier, doesn’t it? It says “This is not a pipe.” It’s a famous painting by René Magritte, a Belgian surrelist painter and it’s sparked some heated debates over the years. Well of COURSE it’s a pipe! It has the bowl and the mouth piece and everything! Really? You think so?


It’s actually a PICTURE of a pipe. You can’t pick it up and stuff it with tobacco or put it in your mouth to puff like the classy person you are. It’s NOT a Pipe. And that was the point of the painting.

Now let’s take this concept and inject it into another avenue of thought. Let’s say, writing cuz HEY that’s kinda what I blog about: Writing about writing. At least for now.

Alright. In the very first blog, I wrote about Fear. Fear of blogging, fear of failing, fear of people, fear of criticism. No artist escapes this. We are our own worst critics and we fear deep down that we’ll tank completely and everyone will hate us. Partly because of this, we become reclusive. Hide from people and they can’t find you with their evil bitter words! YES! Great idea! The other main part as to why we hide in our Man Caves and She Sheds is to let our creative freedom reign, all the while making hyper-critical judgments of our own work and gnashing our teeth over the details. Really, is there anything better than hours of uninterrupted  creative freedom? We shun human interaction and often times (at least in my case) house work so I can mire myself in work.

Days pass. Weeks pass. Perhaps even months. We mainline coffee and microwaveable food for sustenance. We’re covered in paint or ink or whatever medium we’ve mired ourselved in. And then the Doors open with a burst of light–well, maybe not a “burst”. Creating stuff is exhausting. So let’s say the Doors creak open and light shines through–well, maybe not “shines” either. Artists work in caves and it’s probably three in the morning when they finally finish their work. Gotta be respectful of those normal humans sleeping like logs in their beds. Okay so the METAPHORICAL Doors open and BOOM there’s art. Simple and beautiful and proudly displaying a piece of the artist’s soul.

So what next?

Duh, it’s on to the next project!! So here we are, somewhat satisfied with a piece of art or a novel we’ve just completed and we’re ready to go on to the next one. You sit down in your chair. Your hands are poised above your instruments of creativity. You might have mood music on and candles lit to stimulate the senses. A can of pop is next to you within easy reach (or a cup of tea or a mug of coffee or a bottle of water…whatever). Annnnnd– for the sake of this article, let’s say you get stuck. You’re sucked dry of inspiration. You’ve got writers block. You look out the window and see the OUTSIDE, a place you hadn’t been in more than an hour two in the last month. You should go out there. Clear your head. But-But–people are BAD. They ask questions and you have to TALK to them! They JUDGE you.

*pat pat* I know. Those judgy buggers. But hang with me for a minute.

Let’s go back to the pipe. Now let’s replace “pipe” with “human”. “This is not a human.” Look at your art. Whatever you have written or painted or drawn…NOTHING about it is real. It is a 2-D representation of the real world. Real humans. Real plants and places that you’ve touched and seen and heard. Art comes from inspiration but it also comes from interaction, especially if you’re a writer. You simply cannot make a realistic novel without interacting with humans. Not a good one anyway.

“I’m sure that I, the great and wonderful author extraordinaire, could do just that! HA HA!!” Yes, I know that some of you reading this are thinking it. I challenge you to. I also challenge you to draw a picture of a dog to a small child who has never seen a real dog before and try to explain how they feel, smell, sound. They won’t get it. Not really. Mhmmm. Alrighty then…

Artists need to recharge their batteries and get fresh material frequently to stay on top of their game. As much as we like to be hermits, and as hard as it is to admit, sometimes our ideas grow crusty and stale. Even the most fiction-y sci-fi fantasy novels with names of villages like Trangflargephison need real dialogue, real humanistic reactions, believable battles, and real emotions. We can’t give the novel that if we don’t practice what we preach. If we don’t, then it’s just words on a page. It’s just a picture of a pipe. Example:

Margaret took a piece of paper and wrote something on it and then threw it at Jimmy, the boy who sat front of her. She liked Jimmy. He opened the paper. He wrote something back and slid it onto her desk. Margaret felt happy when she read it. 

It kinda sounds like the first draft of a novel, right? It’s like the author had never experienced emotion before or seen interactions between a boy and girl before. This isn’t even a picture of a pipe, friends. This is like, a sketch of pipe. Done by a toddler. In bright orange crayon. Don’t be this.

Authors, friends, as much as we like peace and solitude, DO NEED OTHER HUMANS. *GASP* *MOAN* *CRINGE* Ughhhh!! Are you saying that we need the very humans who will tear apart our ugly baby stories? What kind of masochist are you Jess!? Yep. Sorry. It came as a shock to me too recently when  I had spent an entire month in my house and didn’t have a single conversation with a stranger at all except to nod and say Hi in passing. When I finally did have a whole five-sentence exchange, I was a total neurotic DORK about it. Too loud, too bubbly, too fast while erupting with nervous hysterical laughter at the end. Yes, that was an interaction. An embarrassing one, and one I’ll quite possibly be able to use in a novel someday but the point is, I was out of practice. Where did Cool, Confident Jess go? Was she so far buried in her solitude she forgot how to BE human?

OMG!! I don’t want to be a picture of a pipe! I didn’t want to be seen that way! Or as a nervous, overly-enthusiastic psycho either. I don’t want people to run away from me. I need to practice. Yes. Practice. Practice being human and not just an author.

You can quote me on that, by the way.

“Practice being human and not just an author”–Jessica A. Jordan

Authors need to stay fresh with their creations by going out into the world, even if it’s just observing. We need to write down conversations we hear and take notice of what people are wearing and how they do their hair. Describe them. We need to watch the surfers roll through the waves and smell the flowers when we pass by a field of them. We need to ask questions and find the answers. Practice conversation with the cashier at your favorite Coffee Shop. Stop and listen to the street performers. Have emotions. Put yourself in awkward situations. And while you’re reintroducing yourself with the world, compliment a random stranger and brighten their day. Offer to pay for someone else’s meal, just because. Sit down and listen to that homeless woman’s story for fresh perspective.

These are the observations we’ll be taking back to the Cave with us and putting down on paper. These are the believable aspects that readers will get sucked in by and feel comfortable with. They’ll trust that you understand their humanistic view, even when they’re following the journey of Space Commander Hawlautiquan the 15th of planet Keir in Qualxia, sector 76.

Yes, whatever we write will definitely still just be a picture of a Pipe. They haven’t made 3-D books yet. (Movies don’t count!) But at least whatever you write will be BELIEVABLE. It’ll be rife with human emotion and real dialogue. It’s okay to be a recluse. It’s okay to crave solitude. But as an author, you need other humans to inspire you. As a human, you need other humans to ground you so you don’t turn into a completely neurotic idiot when you have a conversation 😛

Be human, friends. Not a Pipe.

The Bright Side of the Dark Side

writing meme taking away everything you love

I love the show My Little Pony. I’ve watched it since I was a kid and probably watch it now more than my two girls as an adult. If I were a pony from the show I’d be about 40% Pinkie Pie, the obnoxious party pony, 40% Twilight Sparkle, the serious intellectual and 20% Fluttershy, the gentle animal-lover. On my Blog, I main stream Pinkie Pie. FUN! BIG CAPITAL LETTERS! Crazzyyyyy break-the-rules grammar mistakes and spelling! Being Pinkie is way fun on here! But when I write, I’m a mix of Twilight Sparkle and Fluttershy. Serious, shy, gentle, earnest—*eyes droop and starts to snore*

Well hey that’s not fair! I have surprises! I have drama! I like to shock people with the unexpected and push the envelope sometimes—

AHA! Keyword there: SOMETIMES. It’s not enough. It’s NEVER enough. 100% of the time when you write you should push the drama, push the conflict, make them hurt, make them cry. (Your characters, of course.) Readers don’t want NICE! They might THINK they do but what do readers know about writing eh? (That was a totally flippant statement and meant to be sarcastic. Please don’t rip me to pieces!) The reason they keep turning page after page is the need to know what happens NEXT. They want to be taken on a journey with a cast of characters they care about and they want to see them safety through dangers untold and hardship unnumbered. So here’s what I’ve learned from my foray into writing:


WHOOOMP there it is; the hard truth that every nublet writer must face. We create stories from the pieces of our souls that call out to be put on paper. We become mommies and daddies to these ugly baby stories that we want to protect and cherish. We want our characters to have a happy ending and a good life because that’s what we want for ourselves as well, yes? Wish fulfillment in the form of fiction. Well guess what? If you handed that manuscript to an agent all glowing and shiny and scrubbed pink until it sparkled they’ll do one of two things: Throw it in the trash or stab it viciously with the Red Pen of Ultimate Death numerous times and send it back with a happy face on a post-it note.

You: *GASP!* Oh my baby! My poor murdered precious baby! *cuddles novel dripping with Red Ink*

Agent: Get over it and grow a pair! *smiles*

CUTE is not for adult fiction! CUTE is not even for Young Adult fiction! You want cute, go write lullabies and nursery rhymes for BABIES!!!!! Put on your big kid pants now because we’re about to dive into the Dark Side of writing! The Bright side of the Dark Side.

The reason I’ve been writing one story for 16 years is that I wanted my characters to be content. This was a story about ME, essentially. Who I wanted to be, falling in love with the man of my dreams, having the father I’d always wanted. I didn’t want to wreck that life with….conflict. I’d had enough of that on real life. I figured if I could at least make HER happy, then that was okay for now.


As long as no one was going to see it, then it was okay right? Yes and no. Yes because if no one sees it, then there’s no one to criticize and thus your happy fantasy land stays intact—in a dark corner of your desk drawer. No it’s not okay, dear Summer Child, because that’s not what being a PUBLISHED author is about. Conflict drives a story. Readers want to get tense and sweaty over whether Sally is going to finally be with Harry or if the humble girl is going to survive being hunted in a jungle with 11 other teens. And it’s not just the major climactic scenes either! Ohhh nooo my friends it’s EVERY SCENE. EVERY WORD. EVERY GESTURE. ALL OF IT.

Sally meets Harry. She smiles and there are pepper granules stuck in her teeth left over from lunch. He drops his coffee on her new Jimmy Choo shoes trying to shake her hand. They bump heads trying to clean it up. He mistakenly thinks she’s pregnant when really she’s just fat and congratulates her on the baby and she gets angry and calls him a bald eagle because of his thinning hairline. They part ways, angry, only to meet up again when both of them are interviewing at the same company for the same job. Round 2 DING! FIIIIIGGGGGGGGHHHHHT! 

See? Every word has to drive the plot forward and every scene has to have conflict for one reason or another. If Sally and Harry had a nice conversation, the reader would have been let down and disappointed. Might’ve even put down the book. It’s happened to you. Admit it. (It really is a wonder some books made it to print =/) Now I’m not saying that the characters must be driven by ACTION every single scene. That could be just as boring as having a “nice” conversation. There are different kinds of conflict and tension that can be explored and a skilled author can feel by instinct when each kind should be used in a scene to enhance the story. We will get there too my friends. It takes practice!! (ewww…hard work  x_x)

It’s really no wonder that writing a book is hard work though. On top of coming up with dynamic original characters and a stellar scene list, authors (that’s you too!) have to mire themselves in a stressful state at all times where their characters are concerned. They have to take their freshly minted protagonist and put them through the fires of hell for entertainment. (Yeah, I guess you can call writers sadists but lets not travel down that road in this particular blog shall we? 😉 )

BE MEAN. If a character is crying because her cat died, make it worse. If the Gallant Knight is bleeding from a wound, make it so that it was his lady love that gave it to him and then make it hurt MORE somehow. Even in the quiet moments of reflection when the characters are turned inward, make them rehash every horrible thing they’ve ever done (make them HAVE horrible things they’ve done!) Make them feel guilt, pain, shame! Give them thirty lashes with the whip of Contempt!! Drag them through shards of broken-hearted glass strewn over a bed of scorching hot Agony!

Why do we do this? Why do we have to put our characters through emotional and physical hell for entertainment? Because it makes a good story. Because we, as readers, need to care about these fictional characters and we want to experience their journey, connecting with them. We want to root for them and find similarities between their lives and ours. And deep down, I believe that we HOPE for the happy ending. It doesn’t have to be the perfect happily ever after and lots of stories DON’T have it. But after a long exhausting trek from point A to point Z, we need to know that it was worth it. That all the hard work paid off. And most important, we as reader, need to believe that WE CAN DO IT TOO.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” At least in theory.

So take a look at your story and imagine it’s an earthquake seismograph, divided into chapters. Wherever the character starts the scene, he or she should end up either above that line or below when it ends. He or she should NEVER be okay at the end. It can be on either side of “okay”. But never smack in the middle or at the same level as when the scene started.

Now these aren’t cut and dried rules. These are just tips and beliefs that I have found along my foray into author-hood so feel free to agree or disagree as you like. But if you find yourself nodding then I’m going to five you one final personal trick that I find helps me whittle down my drafts.

What helps me is to ask myself this one question after every scene: “Is there conflict?” And if the answer is yes, I ask myself a second question: “Does it drive the plot forward?” We can’t be having scenes full of conflict that don’t make sense now can we? No no. Give the scene a make-over or neuter it if you can’t see it working out. Of course, your second, third and seventh draft of your novel will help you weed these little mistakes out as well^^ No worries about getting it right the first time! Just keep those two questions in the forefront of your mind while you write.

So gird your loins my author friends. Don’t be Fluttershy! Don’t be Cinderella! Don’t be Peeta! Don’t be NICE. Nice doesn’t sell books! Unless you really are writing nursery rhymes and lullabies. Then by all means, don’t give kids nightmares like “rockabye baby” did for me. Seriously dude. It’s a NOT RIGHT song.

EMBRACE THE DARK SIDE OF WRITING!  Your readers will thank you for it and come back for more. Might even give you cookies…the dark side ALWAYS has cookies….. 😉

Traditions-an Ipod Shuffle Adventure

This one could have gone several ways but I chose, ironically, the LESS traditional. Mainly because the fourth song that came on was completely unexpected and I didn’t know how to fit that in with the theme but it added an element of fun that just suited a less-romantic relationship and a more familial one. Enjoy! All songs have been fitted with a YouTube hyperlink so you can listen along if you like. (If you missed the description on the point of the Game, i use my ipod to randomly shuffle the songs and then write down the first 5, turning them into a Short Story using the titles, lyrics, melody, or whatever comes from them.)

“Long Black Train”-Three Bad Jacks 

Impressions: waiting, anxious for arrival, excitement, rockabilly 

–Dad is waiting on his baby girl to come home. Every year she comes home around the same time. Always makes time for it, no matter how busy she gets. It’s tradition, ever since her mother died. 

“Tightrope”-Janelle Monae 

Impressions: Frantic, stressful, tense, keep balance, can’t make mistake, determined to keep ahead, hope, 

–Grown woman at a high stress job balancing life and job. Looking forward to a vacation and seeing her family. Clear her head and have some fun. 

“Arms”-Christina Perri

Impressions: love, pride, sweetness, coming home, hope, forever safe, 

–Dad and daughter meet up and both are so joyful. Girl knows when he hugs her, everything is worth it and all is right in her world. 

“Braum”-League of Legends Soundtrack

Impressions: goofy, having fun, heavy work, old world, proud man, getting ready for something, anticipation, joyful, happy, 

–Every year dad, daughter and family dress up in traditional Scottish regalia and attend the Highland Games held in their city. Kilts, bustles, tams and sporrans. Live steel demonstrations. Contests. They drink beer, play games, eat ginormous turkey legs, watch the shows. Everything is fun and wonderful.

“Get what you give-New Radicals

Impressions: Cool, wise, encouraging, funky, hopeful, 

–Dad gives advice to daughter as they’re eating dinner at a fast food restaurant after the Games are over. Still in costume, people look at them funny and they don’t care. They talk about times past and how much work she still has. Dad says don’t give up. That things will work out but never forget she has family. Don’t give up. Don’t give in.


Loyal like a Stray- an Ipod Shuffle Adventure

Wrote this last night before bed, as it has become my routine now, and was stumped at first. The songs gave me nothing but EMOTIONAL LOVE songs and then–Whanuum whaauuuum– depression, death, dying….like, WTF Ipod! Way to throw a curve ball. Well, I threw a curve ball right back 🙂 It’s not your typical love story. Read till the end! All songs have hyperlink to YouTube so you can listen if you want. (In case you missed the description, this is a fun game I play with my Ipod, where I’ll shuffle the songs and the first 5 that pop up I have to turn into a short story. You should try it! It’s super fun and challenging ^^)

“Fantasy”-Mariah Carey 

Impressions:  young love, teen love, innocent, inexperienced. sweet, wistful, fluttery

–When I first saw you, my heart stuttered. My pulse beat at my skin like hummingbird wings and my mouth went dry when you spoke. Where you were, my eyes found you and followed you, admiring the grace of your long limbs and the shine of the sunlight on your hair, like the glow of candlelight. I would stay there on the bench all day, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Sometimes you would say hi and all I could do was nod and smile. I’d never been so tongue-tied. 

“Strange Love”- Goo Goo Dolls

Lyrics: Loyal like a stray/ You’re never going to break his heart so have fun/ abuse it/ Passion junkie’s fix is never satisfied

Impressions: Stalkery, weird, FU, cruel, laughing, pathetic

–I followed you. You were with her; always with her. I had one like you once. Maybe that’s why I’m so caught up. 

“Waking up Beside you”-Stabbing Westward 

Lyrics: I’ve been so alone for so long/ Forgotten by the world/ forgotten by myself/ you effervescent eyes have awakened me/

Impression: sad, missing you, lonely, heart ache, depression, 

–The warmth of the bed beside me is nothing but a memory now. I memorized  your face as it lay beside mine on the pillow. The shadows mimick it now and it breaks me to know it’s not there. Your snore was a lullaby to me. My body is rigid under the blankets, forming automatically to accommodate yours. The ghost of yours now. I miss you, darling. Why did you go? Did you find something better? I could have made you stay. 

“Sweet Emotion”- Aerosmith

Impressions: Dirty, passionate, sexy, snarky, 

–Who cares about you now. I got a sweet sassy thing that struts when he walks beside me, looking up at me with trust and love. We stroll around town, smirking as the people stare. We have the glow Babe. The one people crave. Come on, lets go paint the town red! Wait. Wait! No…not that kind of red!  STOP! SHIT—


Impressions: hopeless, calling out for help, depressed, guilty, 

–Don’t mind the machines Babe. We won’t be here long I’m sure. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not mad. Look, there’s hardly any blood now. It hurts just a little from the sitiches. You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine and I’m yours remember? You came to me and I promised I’d take care of you. I know you’re afraid I’ll let you go but there’s no chance. We’re in this together babe. Whatever I did to make you bite me, I won’t do again, promise. Was it the cat smell? Did I have food on my hand? We’ll work it out. Do you want belly rubs? Yeah? C’mere little guy! Lets get that leg going. Maybe later we can go get your ball and go to the park to run. Ohhh look at that tail going! You like running huh? Atta boy! You and me babe. We got a good life now. Believe it. 

Their hearts never changed- an Ipod Shuffle Adventure

I did this last night before bed and it’s kinda long for one of my ipod sessions. I was rather surprised by where the story took me though and I was pleased with the outcome, if not totally satisfied. But that’s where editing and refining come in, should I ever decide to come back to it for further writing. I’ve provided YouTube hyperlinks to all the songs in case you’d like to have a listen. (For those of you who didn’t read the description of the Game, it’s basically putting my ipod on shuffle and the first 5 songs that come up have to be put into a short story using the title, the feel of the song, the lyrics, whatever! It’s fun, you should try it ^^)

“Puttin’ On the Ritz”-Taco

Impression: Classy, High Society, feel good, snobbery, fun times, champagne and chocolate strawberries, diamonds and satin spats

–Guy made a name for himself dressing in drag and going to elitist parties for entertainment. Silk, satin, jewels, designer clothes. But he was lonely and bored and seeking a way out. 

“Gone”-Ben Folds

Impressions: Snarky, regretful, bitter, FU, IDGAF, Leave if you want to, I don’t need you 

–Poor guy. (Boyhood friend of Rich guy.) Parents dead. Stuck with house mortgage he can’t pay. Ex-girlfriend dumped their new born baby off on him. Has enough money left in his pocket for baby formula and that’s it. Can’t work now, no baby-sitter. Hasn’t eaten in two days. House being repo’d. On his way to a Homeless Shelter with a bag of clothes and diapers and a baby strapped to his chest. Rich Guy sees him walking down the street and stops him in surprise. 

“Traveling?” rich guy asks.

“Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

“Oh. Where to?”

“Homeless shelter,” Poor guys says.


“Dude, you don’t even care so don’t pretend to for the cameras. I got my shit to deal with and you got yours.”


Lyrics:  Dress up in your best so I can be proud of you/ Never believe I won’t turn on you/ How I wish I could be rid of this ennui/ Make you regret and make you afraid of me/ And never believe I do this for me/ And never believe I’ll do this gently

Impressions: Bitter, reluctantly fascinated, mild revenge?, anger, 

–Few days later rich guy comes into the shelter undercover and begs poor guy to come home with him.

“Like hell I will to some fairy princess monstrosity!” says poor guy.

“Then we’ll go home to your place. It’s seriously scary in here and the baby could get like, sepsis or something. Not to mention psychological trauma,” Rich guys replies.

“If I had a place to go I wouldn’t BE here dumbass. Don’t you think I want better for my girl?”

Rich guy hands Poor guy a key.

“What’s that? A hotel key? Thanks but I’m good here. I’ll figure it out.”

“I bought it.” Rich guy says quietly.

“The hell you say?”

“The house. I bought it. It was my house for a long time too, remember? I couldn’t let someone else live in it. I couldn’t let them ruin my memories.”

“You actually remember all that shit?”

“Wasn’t that long ago. Birthdays, camping, Prom. I even had my first kiss there when I turned 16…Please, let’s get out of here. I think someone is checking out my ass.”

“Isn’t that what you want them to do now?”

Reluctantly, poor guy goes home. There’s nothing left except stuff in the garage. They sleep on air mattresses and sleeping bags with the baby between them.

-Rich guy wants to update and refurbish right away but Poor guy is reluctant and downright hostile about it. Afraid to say yes to anything and be even more indebted to rich guy. Afraid rich guy won’t stick around once he got bored. Just like last time. Back and forth arguments and anger and pain. Old wounds are opened on both sides.

-Rich guy buys dream nursery for little girl as a surprise. Poor guy breaks down and cries. Rich guy awkwardly hugs him. Vulnerable moment. Rich guys goes to work for a few days, leaving poor guy alone in his empty house. baby momma tries to come back. Heard he was shacking up with some rich chick. Looking for a hand out.

-Rich guy comes back and boots her off. Got into an argument with poor guy.

“What did she say?” rich guy asked.

“Just leave it. She’s a bitch hoe-bag looking for a payout.”

“Yeah but what did she SAY? Did she recognize me?”

“As a chick yeah. A famous one.”

“Oh. Good.”

“You’re not a chick!” Poor guy yells.

“Part of me is.”

“Not MY part.”

-Rich guy is stunned.

“I don’t know who that chick is; the one you dress up as. She’s strange and loud and fake. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“But she’s part of me now–“

“No. She’s the mask you hide behind because you can’t deal with your loneliness. You never could.”

Rich guy gets mad.

“Yeah? And who’s the one that did the leaving? One stupid kiss on my birthday and you freak out!”

“Of course I freaked out man! My best friend kissed me! I was 16 and stupid!”

“You avoided me after that. You got into sports and got too busy and the went off to Uni. Then you come back and what, know up some chick?”

“I hated sports. It was just something to do. Made pops happy before he kicked the bucket. And the chick was a mistake, obviously. First and last.”

“So it WAS because of me.”

Poor guy didn’t deny it and rich guy exploded.

“Do you know why I even have an alter ego? The dresses and wigs and make up are all because of you!”

“Bull shit!”

“No it’s true! I wanted to become a woman. A woman so famous that my face would be everywhere and you had no CHOICE but to look at me. I wanted you to be reminded of me constantly, to be something you desired!”

“You fucking moron.” poor guy snarled.

He grabbed rich guy and kissed him, hard.

“You’re the reason I got into sports, yeah. But it was only because I wanted to do that again. And again and again and I freaked out dude. You never left my head, even when I had broken bones and aching muscles. I still wanted you. My best friend. Ah, Fuck it all!”

Guy turns to go into house, turns back and punches rich guy in the mouth.

“You walked away from me when you put that chick mask on and left me in hell. You don’t get another free pass, asshole.”

Then goes and slams the door.

“Skyfall”–Our last Night

Impressions: Never giving up, face the world together, hope, passion, determination, won’t take no for an answer, loyalty, 

–Rich guy is gone for weeks, sending furniture to the house since poor guy refuses to touch the money given for anything except food and baby stuff. Poor guy tried to get a  job as a line cook or a pastry chef since he liked being in the kitchen. Start making payments to rich guy for the house. When he comes back, he has another key. This time to a restaurant. 

“It’s ours. And you’re going to be head chef, when it opens.”

“Oh yeah? And what the hell are you going to do while I’m slaving away?”

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure your eyes never look away from me again.”

Poor guy contemplates this.

“Alright. One thing though.”

“Yeah?” rich guy asks fearfully.

“You’re going to be the one that does all the girly shopping and shit when the baby gets older. You know. Bras and shit.”

Rich guy laughs.

“Fine by me.”

“Candyman”- Christina Aguilera

Impression: Hope, playfulness, dancing,

Epilogue: Rich and Poor guy open a restaurant called “Candyman” where rich guy still dressed in drag and employed drag queens to work there. Their secret inside joke. Happily, weirdly ever after.

Lowrider-an Ipod Shuffle Adventure

I wrote this last night right before bed. All songs will have a YouTube link attached to them so you can listen if you like ^^ (If You missed the description of this Game, the summed up version is I put my ipod on shuffle and wrote down the first 5 songs that came up….and made a Story! WOW, just like that? Yeeeep. Alright, Carry on…..)

“Pig”- by Seether

LYRICS: Could it be I don’t want to save you anymore/ Could it be that we don’t have what it takes/ Take it away cuz I don’t like this anymore/ Throw it away

Impressions: Dark, Angry, hopeless, accusatory,  guilty

–Black man taking care of his sister and dead beat boyfriend. Works two jobs. Good honest man. They waste money on drugs, eat all the food. Man stayed out of loyalty but can’t take it anymore. Packs a bag and starts out on a journey. He doesn’t care where it takes him. He just wants to get AWAY.


Impressions: Happy, goofy, cool, groovy, laid-back

–Insert one sexy red head with a penchant for forging car pink slips into her own name. Pulls up beside the man and tells him to get in. They drive a little into a town and take a hotel room.

“Take the Money and Run”-Steve Miller Band 

Impressions: Very obviously going to use the title of this one xD

–In the morning, they have a brand new ride and a hoard of cash. She doesn’t say anything about it and neither does he. She just drives and talks. They travel through the states, changing cars every few hundred miles, evading the cops, grabbing cash by selling off the other cars. Detective has been following woman’s progress for some time. Closing in on her.

“You gotta Lose”-Delta Bombers 

Impressions: Going to use the title of this one as well.

–Woman gets caught. Takes total responsibility for the thefts and turns herself in on the condition that no charges are brought against the man. Says he was a hostage. Woman goes away and man takes a job somewhere.

“Smooth”-Carlos Santana Ft. Rob Thomas 

Impressions: Sexy, sly, fun, cool, sultry. Using this as a basis for the woman?

–Next day the woman rolls up in a borrowed car and takes the man to an empty lot where a large square has been taped off between stakes. She says she bought the property and that she wanted him to build a house for them on it so that when she got out of prison, they could live in it together.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I love you, you big dummy.”