I'm A Disgusting Writer

I feel way too guilty that this blog has been left so empty... But lately life has taken way too many twists, turns, and bellyflops so I guess it just makes me keep wanting to find an excuse to not have to think about things like this blog, work, school, etc... School's been over for a while so I don't know what I'm doing still not doing anything productive at all! XD

Maybe nothing at all is a bit of an exaggeration since I've already picked my classes for the next school quarter (it's looking super busy! D: ) and I've also finished reading "Catch-22" by Joseph Heller. When I was a kid I was picky about books - I disliked 1 out of maybe 10 books that came in contact with my hands. Because of that I used to think that I hated reading in general, as I got older I realized it's not that I hate books, but I've been a dope for letting other people pick books for me instead of me picking books I like on my own (durhurrr...). So lately I've been trying to get myself to read like I never used to do.

Today I have no art to share but today I will share that I am an occasional (sadly not so great) writer of strange short stories and senseless drabbles. If anyone's ever read Catch-22, it will be easy to see that that book's style inspired the drabble.

Here's a random snippet of what I wrote as of late:

“Now, see here. I am the only one who will help you – can't you understand that?”

“I can't understand that.”

“Why not?” And he would furrow those greying blonde brows of his. After all, Mr. Mansley the school counselor before him was a man of true compassion and principle. Mr. Adelbert Mansley was heartfelt over the principle of looking like he was a good man.. “Understand this – no one will help you but me. Me and my...” he cleared his weak throat for a moment.”Our friends.”

“Our friends,” he agreed.

“Our friends are here to make sure that you're good to go for life.”

“Good to go for life!” he raised a fist into the air.

“It's what you could be if you'd just let us help you then you'd see it our way.”

“If it's our way then I must already understand it now, sir!”

With that he pounded his thick fists against the table. As he was a boy full of much respect for his authorities, he made special sure to pound his fist on “sir”. That way the man could revel in the fact that his very presence was enough to demand passion and fervor. And to be theatrical and demonstrate how deeply he felt, he even got up and kicked the plastic chair he sat upon.

The man shook his head. His face was contorted in an expression of some strange passion. He must have understood what he meant with that moment of passion.

Exactly.

To the dot as to what he'd meant..

“No, no, no... I don't think you quite understand...” with that, Mr. Mansley sighed and kindly offered his self-pitying self a bottle of water to quench his poor throat. The compassionate man's talents were being wasted on this boy who made no sense to him. The only thing that was keeping Mr. Mansley on board with this was the respect that the boy was so good at presenting and the dream that if he could solve this boy's "case" then he'd become a hero of some sort.

The boy picked up the chair and stood it up on its sides, never taking his eyes off of the school counselor as to make sure it was known that he was still being perfectly respectful.