and then...expense

It's a cyclical nightmare, not feeling worthy of love. Not feeling wanted, or appreciated, blahblahblah romatic sense bereft. 

I spoke to my Alpha Muse about it. I said "King, I am difficult to love. :("

He said: "Yes, but impossible not to love."

People will pick difficult over impossible, but it is ultimatum entire and young men really don't like ultimatums. In fact, I think, this conclusion I made with the Alpha explais why young men (the real ones, not the fictional ones), can be so completely volatile and inconsistent and emotionally abusive around me. The poor things, I've got to stay away!

My ladyfriends are commendable indeed; I can hardly adapt to myself.

Onward: I prepared my next Moleskine. For 2012 I have a theme for all of my daily journals. I'm eager to post them to YouTube and my gallery on this website.

For my POST COPE SYNDROME lifestyle, I have made lists; media, career moves, skills to learn, etc. I'm delighted about it but I can't talk about it yet...not until I've got the final cut ready...

Meanwhile I'm grappling with my University so that they'll give me credit for doing my job. There's so little real writing done at universities! What is the point? I'm supposed to halt all progress on my career if I'm to get a degree? I hope this post isn't redundant...I try to come up with new ideas over the week so that I have something good to post on Monday. Not the mention the frequent posting makes me articulate, instead of that artsy vomit which is best appreciated by the Translators. 

Aw, I miss being loved! :( No fair. Expense and worth and guys don't want a creative abstinent writer-like. Nevermind how much I love them. I forgot to wear my key choker today. *gulp* I'm supposed to wear it every day until the final cut is done and I feel naked without it. 

I want to produce a book trailer for Cope Syndrome, I start raising funds in 2013. Slow motions shots, black and white, I worry about the safety of the actors; I may need some new ideas. It's this such fascination with boys in deep water, such! I love you, Fragile Lovely!! You young men fictional so, driving me to fever!

So, my little darlings, get journaling. Your wants and needs and desires are important yada yada. Play with color, be playful, playful boys. 

and then...seashell

I have this crazy metaphor like, when I finish the novel, my perfect man will show up to fill the void. I think if you dance with a void long enough, it starts to take shape. 

The thing is that I am a conch shell and I can not be without a golden ratio, without a Mechanic to tie off my Artistry Translated. 

How romantic is that? I'm a conch shell and you're my golden ratio. Goddamn. >.<

Drafting paper! I got a fresh pad from Target and the pages are nice and thick, the ruling enormous. Paper's my bitch these days, I'm going through so fast. 

Let's talk about redundancy and oxymorons. They are often direct opposites. I have a higher tolerance for oxymorons, though. 

Redundancy first, it's a real problem: 

He circled around the pillar.

Oh for Heaven's sake, you know better than that! Watch:

He circled the pillar. 

That's better. "Circled" is the stronger word. Prepositions are only your friend as far as they act as flags for sentences that need work. Just get rid of those things whenever you can, the sentence is almost always better. Now for the King of Oxymorons:

He confessed his love to me.

arghargharghfjasdflkjasf

If you can say something like that, you either misunderstand the word "confess" or the word "love." Think on that.

Am I writing pornography? Well you would think it, the way my pretty boy Protag carries on with his "looks like snout" and "looks like hooves." He's so precious! I am keeping him safe but he can't escape his own innuendos natural. Or perhaps he is trying to spice things up for me. We don't give a damn, we burn those pencils to the quick. So I don't think I can stand to stay away from my yellow paper any longer

and then...astronomical

I want to name a star after him, so that he will remember how much I love him every time he looks at the sky. But if he doesn't think he deserves my star, then I must dance with the void. 

I intend to name a star after him, though. and take long walks and make kisses and share dreams and secrets and all fear, speak through walls and carry his voice over the sea. And get a job. And learn to sing and dance and play my piano for my love, but the first thing to do is to finish writing a novel.

It's like a single mother leaving for work. Abandon the children or abandon the children. Feels like you're stuck, but we are never stuck.

Mickey Willard tells me that inspired art has two parent characteristics: silhouette and contrast. How we love duality. I say desire and conflict. But what's the difference? Things connect so much more than we think. If there is one other person in this world brave enough to integrate, sing your name so that I may hear you!

This world is simple--life is simple--it is people who are complicated.

Anyway, back to silhouettes and contrast. I don't know how much synesthesia affects my visions, but I can't imagine that something as instinctual as creativity is inaccessible to some people. We are sensual creatures, and we can use our senses to solve problems. Me, I'm a visual person; but there's something for me to say about the shapes that sounds make. Humans can see patterns. You Translators can, anyway, you Critics and the like; perhaps you could translate my blogposts for the general public?

tricks of the trade...okay...take the best idea you have. The best sequence for that story. The best scene from that sequence; condensecondense. If you had to express the essence of your story in a twenty second video, how would you do it? 

Our instinct is to speed things up. Get in as much as possible as quickly as possible. You ready for this?

Take the best ten seconds. Imagine it in slow motion. 

And that's how I have boys sinking in water. Boys sink and wear vapor masks like snouts.