~~it's a lot like having polio.
Apr. 8th, 2003 05:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkareading this article on writing restored my faith in my slacker writer self. i just write because i can't tap-dance or sing the blues. plot, who?
my "self-contempt [is] giving rise in comic form".
and why in the world did my (dead) father die an entirely new and grisly death in my dream. GRISLY, i tell you. grisly. i mean, oh man oh man, i've never dreamed death like -that- before. in the end, he was squashed by a giant stack of papers. *laughs* i dunno, is that tmi? really? i mean, is it? but obviously i have issues. just in case my conscious mind wasn't aware, my subconscious is reminding me. DIE, PROGENITOR, DIEEEEEEE!!!
this is why i never took drugs. this is why.
The kids in your nursery project will be disappointed, but you have a calling, an urge, a delusion, an unfortunate habit. You have, as your mother would say, fallen in with a bad crowd.
.... i love this woman -.- i'm hearing this music, you see. this -music-. and this music sings to me, and it tells me, reena? this is your life. obviously, i have not yet achieved the fullness of it, but yes. i am that sad, sad writer chick. i am that oboe, clinking in the wind. i am every english professor's worst nightmare. oh. the self-love is boundless. so, so boundless. *cries*
~~
since when did hatred become sexy?
okay, so sometimes i just open my eyes, and blink, and wonder what in the hell have i been -smoking-.
and like, i don't know, because i'm still smoking it, obviously. but still! just. i should never go to ff.net. never, never, never. not for anything. not for candy. not for babies. not for anything.
and then i wake up -again- (it's like, dreams within dreams, wherein i keep secrets from myself. and i think i don't know things, just because i forget them for a second), and then it's like-- duh. obviously, hatred has always been sexy. like, back in the day, too. way back with the pillaging and the raping, and the "garrr" big man with his stick staking out his territory. and he pretends he doesn't have a soft bone (ahem) in his body. like, it's all about the "arg" and the "gar". because otherwise it's not manly. right? *laughs*
okay, i have no clue what i'm talking about. i was thinking, more, that conflict and adrenaline and fighting are just things that excite one, so bingo. lust.
but no, what confuses me isn't why -anyone- wants it, but why do -i- think about it at all. i think i could just doze out and think about the sky and the (surprising lack of) snow. and... maybe it's all too much angst to have over silly plebefic. i mean, it's kind of plebey, but i kind of like it. kind of.
i think it's because i try to imagine something else-- like, something softer and gentler, and my mind goes to sleep. or maybe i'm just in that state of mind right now, where i can see myself spacing out, counting baby ferrets in my head. one baby ferret, two baby ferret, three baby ferret....
death and angst and ridiculous humor are at least dramatic. if you're not dramatic, what do you have? limp noodles. a lot of limp noodles. right. brain not functioning.
it's an interesting question, to me: how does it work, this drive towards exploring darkness and failure and abuse and inequality, versus the drive to write fairy-tales with the light at the end of the tunnel, and the ultimate redemption of the characters, and the way that the story tries to be a journey towards something rather than a descent.
it's incest month at the midnight-oil mailing list, and so i'm seriously considering the sort of impetus one would have to write it, or any other semi-abusive power dynamic. in the end, i suppose it's not even worth that much thought. there are all sorts of issues in life, and by writing, one explores them. not everything can be or should be escapism, and there is something to be said for catharsis and pure exploration of the human psyche and all the ways in which it can twist and tangle.
i sometimes write stories with a dark apotheosis-- the 'light' achieved is rather dark, rather the opposite of itself. but it is still a resolution, an ascention-- except to darkness. it intrigues me, the idea of writing and -wanting- to write about descent, about the slow, subtle degeneration of a mind. there are some things that cannot turn out well. some people would include my idea of "meant-to-be romance" among those things, and that's okay. but i mean, rather more generally-- abuse and the slow descent into madness, the breaking down of the self, the setting up of boundaries and the walling in of one's psyche. voluntary and involuntary prisons.
what kind of intrigued me was the idea of the sort of mind-set that would prefer writing this to writing fantasy and escapist fiction. obviously, to me, fanfiction is an escape-- like fantasy, like romance itself. i read it and write it because i want to think about certain things in a certain trajectory-- it's not that there is always a happy ending, but i guess you could say there is always a happy ending in my head.
writing my non-con, even in a cursory way, even just for a night, rather scarred me. perhaps i'm just overly delicate. i mean, i'm fascinated by the workings of the human mind, but i'm wary of digging deep into the dark, damp places, the bogs and the swamps, until it's within the wild time of my own descent, a time when i'm torn, in the grip of great internal conflict. i've been known to write things that are quite heavy on the abuse and the bleakness, merely to get it out of my system.
i try to write things that inspire me, that make me happy. i wonder if there is some sort of laziness involved in that, some sort of abuse of talent. here i am, using it merely for mental masturbation 95% of the time, when there are people using fanfiction to explore "issues" and all the things that hurt to look upon.
of course, i get this sense of pleasure from them. it's not like most people who write incest or non-con, for example, don't enjoy it. they do. i get this sense that they are just like me, writing what they enjoy: it's not like it's hard swamp-digging work for them, at least not completely. that was what baffled me. here i am, feeling vaguely guilty because i've been lolling about on the flowery fields while there they are in the swamps, and i'm too lazy to put on my gas-mask and get to work unearthing the secrets of the soul.
i don't think i -lie- with my more indulgent fics-- i don't think i sugarcoat things for my own pleasure, unless it's just humor-- that was my issue with the person i quoted once who said they write fluffy endings that don't make sense even to them. i mean, i understand mental masturbation, but it has to retain some vestige of authorial honesty, or it's just badfic, and that is that.
maybe if you live in a swampy land, you learn resistance to the poisonous flowers, and you appreciate them even though you can see their rot at the same time. or maybe you just get a different set of aesthetics, i don't know. it's like, i totally understand the desire to just write h/d porn-- i mean, i totally am with sara in the whole "let's make a banner and spread h/d porn to all the needy"-- er. but even sara wants dark h/d porn with the non-con, although not so much with the realism, so i don't know. anyway, we all have our kinks, mine just happens to be Great T00by Eternal Lurve. is there something wrong with that?!
*ANGST!*
my semi-fluffball status gives me angest and pain. -.-
let's face it, it will rain frogs in hell before i write weasleycest or malfoycest. this reminds me very happily of `books of magic'-- mmmm, hell. see, i like hell. it has evil!barney and teatime and morpheus' poor wife and of course it has the infinitely gorgeous lucifer himself. mmmmmr, lucifer. you know all the people who have a thing for lucius?? they just haven't met the wonder that is lucifer in dc comics (and in `dawn', but not as much). *grins*
anyway, i once wrote lucifer/adam angest. it was all about issues and... well it just had issues (angels having illicit sex and sex-changes and The Fall dark enough?)-- but on the other hand it was about True Love gone bad-- but isn't everything about True Love gone bad? maybe that's just me -.-
and this, this isn't going anywhere.
i like lucifer, but not lucius, as much. see, lucifer is Grand. he's Epic. he's... lucifer. he's not a pathetic conniving mean little man. no, he disagreed with god. he has Ideas for mankind. he is the ultimate Darkness/Light metaphor, in the flesh, so to speak. and oh, i'm pretty sure he's the sexiest thing in all the 999 planes, let me tell you. the original blond god, the original bad boy, the ultimate slytherin. yes, baby. yes, yes, yes, YES! mmmm, so corrupted and so conflicted. yum. (*holds up sign saying, "FLAME ME, I'M YET ANOTHER HP HEATHEN!!"*)
on the other hand, draco's kind of a pathetic conniving brat, too. tree, apple, and so on. hmmm.
still. he.... he.... he.... he's young? oh, fine. i'm biased. fine. yes.
yes, it's all about the porn, yes.
i'll go away now -.-
my "self-contempt [is] giving rise in comic form".
and why in the world did my (dead) father die an entirely new and grisly death in my dream. GRISLY, i tell you. grisly. i mean, oh man oh man, i've never dreamed death like -that- before. in the end, he was squashed by a giant stack of papers. *laughs* i dunno, is that tmi? really? i mean, is it? but obviously i have issues. just in case my conscious mind wasn't aware, my subconscious is reminding me. DIE, PROGENITOR, DIEEEEEEE!!!
this is why i never took drugs. this is why.
The kids in your nursery project will be disappointed, but you have a calling, an urge, a delusion, an unfortunate habit. You have, as your mother would say, fallen in with a bad crowd.
.... i love this woman -.- i'm hearing this music, you see. this -music-. and this music sings to me, and it tells me, reena? this is your life. obviously, i have not yet achieved the fullness of it, but yes. i am that sad, sad writer chick. i am that oboe, clinking in the wind. i am every english professor's worst nightmare. oh. the self-love is boundless. so, so boundless. *cries*
~~
since when did hatred become sexy?
okay, so sometimes i just open my eyes, and blink, and wonder what in the hell have i been -smoking-.
and like, i don't know, because i'm still smoking it, obviously. but still! just. i should never go to ff.net. never, never, never. not for anything. not for candy. not for babies. not for anything.
and then i wake up -again- (it's like, dreams within dreams, wherein i keep secrets from myself. and i think i don't know things, just because i forget them for a second), and then it's like-- duh. obviously, hatred has always been sexy. like, back in the day, too. way back with the pillaging and the raping, and the "garrr" big man with his stick staking out his territory. and he pretends he doesn't have a soft bone (ahem) in his body. like, it's all about the "arg" and the "gar". because otherwise it's not manly. right? *laughs*
okay, i have no clue what i'm talking about. i was thinking, more, that conflict and adrenaline and fighting are just things that excite one, so bingo. lust.
but no, what confuses me isn't why -anyone- wants it, but why do -i- think about it at all. i think i could just doze out and think about the sky and the (surprising lack of) snow. and... maybe it's all too much angst to have over silly plebefic. i mean, it's kind of plebey, but i kind of like it. kind of.
i think it's because i try to imagine something else-- like, something softer and gentler, and my mind goes to sleep. or maybe i'm just in that state of mind right now, where i can see myself spacing out, counting baby ferrets in my head. one baby ferret, two baby ferret, three baby ferret....
death and angst and ridiculous humor are at least dramatic. if you're not dramatic, what do you have? limp noodles. a lot of limp noodles. right. brain not functioning.
it's an interesting question, to me: how does it work, this drive towards exploring darkness and failure and abuse and inequality, versus the drive to write fairy-tales with the light at the end of the tunnel, and the ultimate redemption of the characters, and the way that the story tries to be a journey towards something rather than a descent.
it's incest month at the midnight-oil mailing list, and so i'm seriously considering the sort of impetus one would have to write it, or any other semi-abusive power dynamic. in the end, i suppose it's not even worth that much thought. there are all sorts of issues in life, and by writing, one explores them. not everything can be or should be escapism, and there is something to be said for catharsis and pure exploration of the human psyche and all the ways in which it can twist and tangle.
i sometimes write stories with a dark apotheosis-- the 'light' achieved is rather dark, rather the opposite of itself. but it is still a resolution, an ascention-- except to darkness. it intrigues me, the idea of writing and -wanting- to write about descent, about the slow, subtle degeneration of a mind. there are some things that cannot turn out well. some people would include my idea of "meant-to-be romance" among those things, and that's okay. but i mean, rather more generally-- abuse and the slow descent into madness, the breaking down of the self, the setting up of boundaries and the walling in of one's psyche. voluntary and involuntary prisons.
what kind of intrigued me was the idea of the sort of mind-set that would prefer writing this to writing fantasy and escapist fiction. obviously, to me, fanfiction is an escape-- like fantasy, like romance itself. i read it and write it because i want to think about certain things in a certain trajectory-- it's not that there is always a happy ending, but i guess you could say there is always a happy ending in my head.
writing my non-con, even in a cursory way, even just for a night, rather scarred me. perhaps i'm just overly delicate. i mean, i'm fascinated by the workings of the human mind, but i'm wary of digging deep into the dark, damp places, the bogs and the swamps, until it's within the wild time of my own descent, a time when i'm torn, in the grip of great internal conflict. i've been known to write things that are quite heavy on the abuse and the bleakness, merely to get it out of my system.
i try to write things that inspire me, that make me happy. i wonder if there is some sort of laziness involved in that, some sort of abuse of talent. here i am, using it merely for mental masturbation 95% of the time, when there are people using fanfiction to explore "issues" and all the things that hurt to look upon.
of course, i get this sense of pleasure from them. it's not like most people who write incest or non-con, for example, don't enjoy it. they do. i get this sense that they are just like me, writing what they enjoy: it's not like it's hard swamp-digging work for them, at least not completely. that was what baffled me. here i am, feeling vaguely guilty because i've been lolling about on the flowery fields while there they are in the swamps, and i'm too lazy to put on my gas-mask and get to work unearthing the secrets of the soul.
i don't think i -lie- with my more indulgent fics-- i don't think i sugarcoat things for my own pleasure, unless it's just humor-- that was my issue with the person i quoted once who said they write fluffy endings that don't make sense even to them. i mean, i understand mental masturbation, but it has to retain some vestige of authorial honesty, or it's just badfic, and that is that.
maybe if you live in a swampy land, you learn resistance to the poisonous flowers, and you appreciate them even though you can see their rot at the same time. or maybe you just get a different set of aesthetics, i don't know. it's like, i totally understand the desire to just write h/d porn-- i mean, i totally am with sara in the whole "let's make a banner and spread h/d porn to all the needy"-- er. but even sara wants dark h/d porn with the non-con, although not so much with the realism, so i don't know. anyway, we all have our kinks, mine just happens to be Great T00by Eternal Lurve. is there something wrong with that?!
*ANGST!*
my semi-fluffball status gives me angest and pain. -.-
let's face it, it will rain frogs in hell before i write weasleycest or malfoycest. this reminds me very happily of `books of magic'-- mmmm, hell. see, i like hell. it has evil!barney and teatime and morpheus' poor wife and of course it has the infinitely gorgeous lucifer himself. mmmmmr, lucifer. you know all the people who have a thing for lucius?? they just haven't met the wonder that is lucifer in dc comics (and in `dawn', but not as much). *grins*
anyway, i once wrote lucifer/adam angest. it was all about issues and... well it just had issues (angels having illicit sex and sex-changes and The Fall dark enough?)-- but on the other hand it was about True Love gone bad-- but isn't everything about True Love gone bad? maybe that's just me -.-
and this, this isn't going anywhere.
i like lucifer, but not lucius, as much. see, lucifer is Grand. he's Epic. he's... lucifer. he's not a pathetic conniving mean little man. no, he disagreed with god. he has Ideas for mankind. he is the ultimate Darkness/Light metaphor, in the flesh, so to speak. and oh, i'm pretty sure he's the sexiest thing in all the 999 planes, let me tell you. the original blond god, the original bad boy, the ultimate slytherin. yes, baby. yes, yes, yes, YES! mmmm, so corrupted and so conflicted. yum. (*holds up sign saying, "FLAME ME, I'M YET ANOTHER HP HEATHEN!!"*)
on the other hand, draco's kind of a pathetic conniving brat, too. tree, apple, and so on. hmmm.
still. he.... he.... he.... he's young? oh, fine. i'm biased. fine. yes.
yes, it's all about the porn, yes.
i'll go away now -.-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-04-10 04:19 am (UTC)my address is reenka @ livejournal.com ^^
Re:
Date: 2003-04-10 12:55 pm (UTC)Oh, I intend to send a long e-mail with my story attached. But I have to comment on your story, and this isn't enough space.
Re:
Date: 2003-04-10 01:24 pm (UTC)Unless of course, it won't let me because I don't have an lj address.
*bangs head momentarily*
Help?
no subject
Date: 2003-04-10 01:31 pm (UTC)><
i'm a dork.
my paid account expired. er. it's lorien @ core.binghamton.edu
*sighs*
<-- DORK -.-
*laughs*
Re:
Date: 2003-04-10 02:55 pm (UTC)I forget what I say 2 seconds ago in normal conversation. But it still happens, so it's just normal. :)