My dad was an architect. I asked him once, what he liked most about his passion (because for him it never was just a job, but a calling really). Without too much hesitation, he said he liked the straight lines.
Lieutenant Commander Dallas Drake, formerly of UNT Directory, leaned against his leg, his boot firmly planted on a lump of sandstone. Squinted at the clouds of dust and sand sweeping the violet-tinted horizon. Unconsciously, his hand fished for the pack of cigarettes he’d tucked in a side-pocket of his trench coat. Plenty of time for a smoke, he reckoned.
Decay has always been an obsessive fascination of mine. Like an old friend who, whenever I thought he’d run out of stories to tell, would surprise me with one I haven’t heard before. He’s always been there for me, for as long as I remember.
It’s probably safe to assume you all know life is a box of chocolates (unless you don’t like chocolate, that is). Boldly, I’ll take it a step further and say life is a box of adventures. You maybe just haven’t pictured it this way before.
And you need a Gandalf of your own to help lift the lid on it.
It’s 23:57 and late in the day for good news. The clock keeps ticking, an inexorable tick tock, while the shadows around me diminish.
I’ve been to the movies with my lady (fairly) recently to see this film called La La Land. You may have heard about it. It’s been making quite the headlines for the past couple months. For good reason too, I think. It had enough good reasons to prompt me writing a new entry for Blank Page Down. But more on that after the jump (NO SPOILERS, guaranteed).
On a field of battle, it’s all in the details. There’s the details you see sharply and the ones can bring you a sharp end.
Writing has its fair share of difficulties, like any other occupation out there. It’s an exercise of will first, patience second. Imagination is the necessary foundation of your work, yet imagination on its own won’t carry you through if you lack the discipline to hammer your text into shape. One of the trickiest ingredients of discipline, at least related to writing, is learning to let go.
Standing in a battle line, crammed tight like salted cod in a barrel, you see your whole world through a new pair of eyes.
My name is Joe. I’ve the most important job in the world. I polish the Button. The big fat round one says ‘Don’t Press the Button’ above it, in brass lettering. It’s really the only button in the room, you can’t not see it. It’s red. The Button’s the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning and the last when I lay down on my cot.