Follow Me (Everything is Alright)

Anyone else doing NaNoWriMo? Follow me on there: Click here

Thanks!

Ry

Also, enjoy this little ditty that I wrote when I was lovesick about a boy that looked like an anime character:

Anime Boy
Though it wasn’t time to trust again, whom shall I blame?
Do I blame society for teaching the young that beauty markers matter most or do I blame the one who scorned?
I’d rather choose to believe in a world where love existed in the moments of the evening betwixt the two of us.
A flash of your debonair smile and conversations about nothing and everything.
Your social prowess and your youth attracts many; I’m sure I’m not the only whose fallen victim to your charm.
My ignorance is to blame.
My heart leapt upon the receipt of your number (though now it seemed like a ploy to get me away).
The night was nice as you made me your “special” drink.
Maybe that night will be all we ever share.
Your pitch black hair and your shining devilish grin.
It was a new hairstyle, you told me. Freshly dyed that day.
After you unceremoniously told me to go, I should have seen something was wrong.
That I distracted you.
I was blinded by the thoughts that it was a good distraction.
Texts exchanged: merely a few.
I went to bed with great thoughts racing.
Ignored in the morning.
Nothing to do but say goodbye to my night with the boy.
さようなら My Anime Boy.
The night lives in my heart.

The Best Anecdotes Featuring Oscar Wilde

My favorite author of all-time.

Interesting Literature

It’s Oscar Wilde’s birthday today – he was born on 16 October 1854 – so in honour of this, we’ve compiled some of our favourite anecdotes featuring the great author and wit. Wilde is probably known for his conversation as much as for his literary works. Here are some of the funniest and most thought-provoking stories featuring the man who, as well as being a great wit, was also often rather wise, too (and as the etymologies of the words suggest, the two are not unrelated).

The most famous anecdote involving Wilde concerns his arrival in the United States in the 1880s, when he was already a known figure in England – part of the reason for his trip to America was to promote the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta Patience, which mocked the kind of dandy aesthete embodied by Wilde – but he was known for his flamboyant behaviour…

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NaNoWriMo

I decided today to fulfill one of my bucket list items: finish writing a novel. What was meant to be a short novella, is going to be a 50,000 word+ novel. Maybe that’s still a novella? I’m not sure what classifies a novel. Anyway, I’ve joined NaNoWriMo to write 50,000 words in a month so by the end of November, I should have a steaming pile of shit of a novel. Albeit a novel, and my first, but a completed novel. 

If anyone would like a sneak preview, you can view some chapters or short chapter excerpts, as I am not sure how I am going to separate the chapters yet, here: Rides to Practice

If you read that, thank you, if not, maybe enjoy this semi-horror story right here:

As the boy crawled toward his inevitable demise, the mangled hand of the creature ebbed closer and closer to the boy’s unsuspecting neck. The gnarled nails first grazed, then dug into the pristine, young flesh of the male so quickly that he scarcely had chance to yell for help before his vocal chords were ripped from his throat. Gore splattered the pavement as the claws continued to tear at the neck of the teenager until it was certain that there wasn’t life left. The creature tossed the body over his shoulder and gently hopped the 20 feet in the air with the lifeless boy slung over his shoulder. Landing upon the roof of a nearby building with the ease of a ballerina, the creature flounced from top to top until he reached the center of the city. The creature glided down upon his wing-like appendages until he reached a lair whereupon he tossed the body. The boy landed with a thud upon some other dried bones picked clean from another night of food scouring. The boy’s jet-black hair fell over his thin-framed face, a look a horror upon his beautiful, golden eyes; staring into eternity. The creature admired the boy’s beauty, from his almond-shaped eyes that harbored that beautiful iris, to the perfect, petite frame with nearly no meat on it. This boy was perfect. This boy was not meant to only eat. No, no. This boy was meant to become.

The creature abhorred his own appearance. From his grizzly, rankled face to his blistering feet. This was his punishment from Circe. This boy was certainly a work of her own hand. Consuming him must bring him some beauty once more. If not, walking in his skin would bring him the satisfaction he desired. The ease with which the creature chewed through the bone and slipped into the boy’s skin can be admired, but not without horror. With the boy’s guise upon him all of the creature’s ugliness was covered. His continuous bubbling reality of puss and the constant bleeding that erupted from the open wounds on his back. The creature was pleased when he looked down at his arms to see the clear, hairless skin of the young Adonis upon his own flesh and was eager to look upon himself in the mirror. When the creature went to look upon himself in the mirror he saw nothing of the boy but only himself through the boy’s skin for as the creature gazed upon himself, Circe caused the skin to melt leaving behind only more pain and suffering for the creature. The creature bloomed two solid tears before bursting the mirror over his head and slitting what was once his neck and ending his life. If only for the end of the evening, for he would be born again in the morning.

Best,

Ry