gradster1's blog

Lover- lover, lover...

It wasn't entirely on my mind the way I
Intended it to be.
It happened.

The truth- well, it hurts to say.

So soon after I was so shocked after I was
Awed by how this world
Lets us go; we can try momentarily...
But we get tossed off

This delicacy of interconnectivity- I found it
Satisfying to the extreme, extremes meeting, forming
Circular cycles. Twisted in two, broken and meeting
Simultaneously.

I can't stand it.

Aren't we all?

That was yesterday... The truth- I won't fight it.

I found this recently- a handful of words from last year I had saved in a document called 'Keep Me'. Even when I finally finished it today, the title stuck.

A double is a step forward
In a world so full of steps back.
Who are we to prevent double stop
In such a concentrated illusion?

A cellist is comforted
By the solid feel
Of a presence to curl around;
They have a second body-
Human substitute-

Granted,
It is comprised of wood
And varnish
And curves

(But humans are comprised of bones
And blood
And curves

And how is that any different?)

Now with added sound.

i. Lightning-split, she lies prone at your side
Hips graze naked hips as she wonders
Why have you abandoned your horizontality?
She smiles, bemused...
Then wraps her hands around your waist-
The perfect match
To the heat rising from
The gentle concave dip in your back.
She pulls you down
The pressure inappropriate
Yet effective...
And you kiss distractedly
As the warmth of your skin seeps
Deep into the porcelain.

ii. Her voice must not have been
Translucent & ferocious-
It must not have been tempered & raw
It must not have been
It could not have been

I've been working on this all day without really knowing why. The only reason I'm uploading this in its unfinished form is that people want to hear what I've got so far- and this is the easiest way to do it.

I think I'll finish it tomorrow.

Without further ado, though, have a listen to my a capella cover of Guster's What You Wish For. (The only non-voice component is me hitting things- my desk, a book, or my head, I'm pretty sure.)

The lyrics, up to where I got (which is three quarters of the way through the bridge):

Woke up today to everything grey

Life is just a series of chance encounters, funny, that; poetry is just a series of idiots thinking they can sum life in so many words. These are just as not special as the next or the previous or the simultaneous and I don't mean to be cynical, but hasn't the world got better things to do than cater to the whims of its misbegotten children? We've already forgotten how it is to be. What we all knew when we were five and we were all five and that's what really brings us together, is it not?

Nevermind, no longer testing, because I have a rather serious question: Why is there no longer a delete function?

I'm losing my poetry and I'm losing myself and part of me- and I don't- and I can't care.

Je m'oublie, she said this afternoon, would not be correct. Hopefully you would not forget yourself! You are attached to you, I would think.

You would be wrong, ma dame, I wanted to say. Reflexive verbs or not; I can still say this in two completely different ways, and though I know in the literal sense you cannot understand one of them, I also know that in every other sense you cannot even begin to comprehend any of them.

I think someone did care, once.

Title's a quote from a cool A Fine Frenzy Song. Qwertygirl'll know it.

You might recognise sampling from Hay Burner by Count Basie and Hello Seattle (Remix) by Owl City. You will probably not recognise the sample from Your Horoscope For Today by 'Weird Al' Yankovic, but it's in there.


Copyright © 2008 - either Bunmi Hazzan or Ganiyu Hazzan; I can't tell which. Sorry for ruining it, whoever you are.

Super long section - almost two thousand words - but it all goes together, so you'll just have to bear with me.

Jess needs work. She's just a shell right now. She'll get a HUGE makeover while I'm editing.

Word count at this point: 13668. Somewhere between days ten and eleven.

A shorter sleeping sequence. I could have made this longer and fit it better to the story, but at this point I wasn't really fully sure about where I was going with it. When I'm editing, I'll change it.

Word count at this point: 11961. I think this would be about day ten.

You must think I've given up, YWP! Well, it's no wonder. I haven't really been exactly diligent about posting - after the first third of the month, that is - and I don't blame you for getting that impression.

Well, I'm sorry. But here's the rest as an apology gift! Now that there's so much of it, I'll try to make the sections a bit longer, so as not to clog the site.

From where I left off (I'll add a paragraph from the last one for perspective):

The season could be a problem. I'd intended for it to be summer, but that doesn't work so well if school's still in session.

Word count: 10509.

A bit long. How do you like Patrick? Word count: 10112.

Harry arrived at the top of the stairs, already more relaxed. The house had a calming effect on him that didn't seem to be completely limited to his mind - his limbs were feeling a little heavy as well. Perhaps he'd take a nap, though it was a little late for that. He'd probably be called down for dinner soon, if that was the way this family operated.

Sorry for the delay. The weekend was a little hectic writing-wise. I didn't get as much as I wanted done. Word count: 9323.

Word count: 8936.

Well, there's a natural break, if I ever saw one.

Don't worry - I'm posting the next section in a few seconds, so you won't be left with a cliffhanger for long.

A nice little interlude between Harry sections. Sorry it's so long - there weren't really any natural breaks during the section.

Kate had learned to ride her first bike at age eight. It was something she was very proud of, and every summer since, she had biked everywhere that was within her range, which only grew as the years passed. By the time she was thirteen, Kate was racking up at least fifteen miles a day during the summer, and a good five on the days the weather allowed her to bike to school and back.

The attractive poker - Kate - had led him on a winding track throughout the school that was apparently his normal routine with her. It was a very good thing that she had been in a hurry and needed to prepare to bike back home, because those two things meant that Harry could get away with being the worst best friend known to mankind. He stared intently at everything he could get his eyes onto, and even more intently as time went on and he was surer he would be staying, paying as little attention as he could to Kate.

Sorry for not posting these last night.

Harry Blain opened his eyes. Then he closed them again. Then, once more, he opened them. He shut his eyelids for a final time, opening them with a snap. Harry Blain was still on a bus.

Harry Blain had high hopes for this one.

Sorry for not posting these last night.

Harry Blain opened his eyes. Then he closed them again. Then, once more, he opened them. He shut his eyelids for a final time, opening them with a snap. Harry Blain was still on a bus.

Harry Blain had high hopes for this one.

Now do you see?

Well, maybe you don't. But here's a part of it.

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a hand slapping a paper onto the surface in front of her. “Pay attention, Miss Zaber,” ordered the instructor, Mr. Griffin, as he passed her desk.

Nota bene again: Any formatting - italics, the like - will be lost. That said, read on. Oh, and to the person that has been making this a book page thing- thank you so much. I wanted to do that, but did not have the time.

The last excerpt for tonight. As promised, my total word count: 5138, the minimum being 5000. It may not look like much, but it felt really satisfying to pound those extras out.

I quite enjoyed this. Foreshadowing and actual planning - no way!

I'll take advantage of the shortness of this section to explain that tonight - au contraire - was not, in fact, a so-called 'bad night'. I finished strong with a good solid... Well, you'll have to read the last excerpt from tonight to find out the total. But my word count for today was 1766.

On with the regularly scheduled program.

Word count is low- only 3555. This is not looking like a good night.

Word count: 2806. Nearing the daily goal of 3334.

Nota bene: Any formatting that should be present - italics and such - will be lost in the copy/paste process. Sorry, but I don't have time to go through and edit.

Word count: 1410. Hopefully this will not be a long night.

Where was a risky choice. Though it seemed less stupid at first than who, whoever was with him would generally also assume he would know where he was- though this hadn’t been quite as true in one case when he’d woken up in a hospital. That had been a good one, indeed. A whole family waiting right there for him, ready to take him under their wing; to comfort him and make him feel loved. In any case, where was not the correct option.