Big junkyard (enough for 2 weeks)

"A witty saying proves nothing."

-- Voltaire

"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve immortality through not dying."

 -- Woody Allen

"As sensitive and broad-minded humans, we must never allow ourselves to be in any way judgmental of the religious practices of other people, even when these people clearly are raving space loons."

 -- Dave Barry

"When you're swimming in the creek
And an eel bites your cheek,
That's a moray!"

 -- Fabulous Furry Freak Bros.

"A day without sunshine is like night."

 -- Unknown

"Fruitcake is like semen, there's a lot of it about but no one wants to swallow it".

 -- Oscar Wilde

"The Psblurtex is an 18-inch long anaconda that hides in the gentlemen's outfitting departments of Amazonian stores and is often bought by mistake since its colors are those of the London Reform Club.  Once tied around its victim's neck, it strangles him gently and then claims the insurance before running off to Germany where it lives in hiding."

 -- Mike Harding, "The Armchair Anarchist's Almanac"

"NASA should not be allowed to operate in a vacuum".

 -- Editorial, Aviation Week & Space Technology, 2/2/87

"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I've watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate.
All these memories will be lost in time,
like tears in rain."

 -- Roy Baty, Blade Runner

"I can explain it for you, but I can't understand it for you."

 -- Unknown.

"There are still places where people think that the function of the media is to provide information."

 -- Don Rottenberg

"Life admits not of delays; when pleasure can be had, it is fit to catch it.  Every hour takes away part of the things that please us, and perhaps part of our disposition to be pleased."

 --Samuel Johnson

"I'm Buh-ish, which is a cross between Buhdist and Jewish. That's where you sit and wait for things to go on sale."

 --Robin Williams

"Hypocrisy is the Vaseline of social intercourse."

 -- Unknown

"The difference between theory and practice is always greater in practice than in theory."

 -- Unknown

 
"In theory, theory and practice are the same thing, but in practice they're not."

-- Unknown

"Definition of a hermaphrodite: a bisexual built for two."

 -- Jeff Daiell

"All I ask of my body is that it carry around my head."

 -- Thomas Alva Edison

"It is up to us to produce better-quality movies."

 -- Lloyd Kaufman, producer of _Stuff Stephanie in the Incinerator_

"Gosh, math is hard!"

 -- Talking Barbie

"I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous."

 -- Unknown

"Style distinguishes excellence from accomplishment"

 -- J. Coplien

"You may buy from me in your own language, but sell to me in mine."

 --Willy Brandt

Random Impulse Part II

     I was somewhere in the middle of the parking lot when he started coming after me. “I’ll take you home,” he demanded.

     “No!” I turned my head and kept hiking it towards the highway. I made sure to swing my ass a little so he knew what he was missing. While treading away, my first thought was I didn’t want to mess up my new heels. My second thought was that my feet were going to start hurting within about five minutes of walking. Then, my third thought followed and I told myself I needed to get in the truck. It was either walking home and getting raped on the side of the road, or riding home and getting raped in the comfort of a truck.

     The truck was red, lifted, suspended axel with a chrome brush guard, and decked out with all the good shit a real truck should be. ‘I wish I could date the truck’, I thought. I touched the side of it as a checked it out. Nice paint job, nice brush guard, and definitely nice wheels. I definitely had wished it was mine.

     He walked over to the passenger door and offered to help me into the massive carriage. “I got it!” I blurted. I grabbed the “Oh Shit” handle the hung on the side of the door and pulled myself up into heaven. The truck shook as he plumped his ass down. The roar of the engine was loud. I observed the interior as he backed out of the confined area. The radio thumped and the speakers vibrated underneath my ass. It was probably the best part of the date.

     He put it in drive and drove to the road where I examined the houses and trees as we passed them. “Fuckin’ rough,” he said. I shot my eyes over to him. They burned a hole right through his head straight to the window. “Can you hurry?!” I impatiently demanded, “I have to go do my laundry.”

     “Hurry?!” he yelled, “You can fuckin’ hurry!” He slammed on the breaks and my body flew towards the dash board. I scrambled around to pick up the contents of my purse. “Get out,” he demanded.

     I didn’t give a shit. I hopped out of the piece of heaven with the devil that rode inside. The soles of my feet landed on the pavement so I wouldn’t break any of my new heels. With one finger in the air, and my pepper spray in the other, I watched him drive away.

Random Impulse Part I

Last Ron-De-Vu

            It was big and had me going.

     Its curves were enormous and had me from the first moment I had set my lustful eyes on it. If only I could get my hands on it. Lord knows what I could do to it. I knew I could take it for a ride and treat it like a baby. My baby. My hand lingered down the smooth side of its walls, while my mouth salivated. God, I wanted it so bad.

      It was awkward. His breath was shitty, hands were sweaty, and his words were dumb. He was a loser that couldn’t ever get a date in his life and I volunteered on the pity level to do it. My back stood against the damn wall as his face inched closer to mine. “What the hell man!” I shouted, “It’s the first damn date and I don’t even like you. No wonder you can’t ever get a girl. Gee!” So much for these pity dates I go on. This was the last one I ever pity. They usually just sit and nervously talk, but this one had some seriously bad actions that turned me off.

     He was already making a move. What an idiot. I yanked my purse away from him, grabbed my keys full of jangles, and shoved his fat ass out of the way. I flipped my hair back in anger and turned the opposite way. My heels clomped as I marched off to God knows where.

4 Incredible Reading Responses

After watching an epsiode of Doctor Who, I now see why everyone thinks it's so awesome. At first, I thought the weeping angels were a little bit cheesy, but dang, when they got their scary faces on screen that was a little bit more than creepy. I learned from watching this that different items that are inanimate objects can be made into a story. How awesome is that, and Doctor Who. I wish I had a British accent.

In chapter 10 of Steering the Craft, the main focus is multiple techniques for revision, such as crowding and leaping. Le Guin talks about the effects of crowding and keeping descriptive and lavish language. She also mentions the element of leaping (Often used in poetry as well). It is applied the same way to short stories as it is poems, except more in depth. I usually try to explore "leaping" from every aspect of my writing.

In chapter 9 of Steering the Craft, the main focus is indirect narration. It is discussed that the writer should create description through scene instead of creating a random palcement of description. This technique is known as invisible exposition or intertwining information "silently" within dialogue. Sometimes, this technique can add difficulty to the readers' imagination as they read. I would say it would not "flow", but we all know that's a bad word in creative writing.

In chapter 7 of Steering the Craft (point of view and voice), it is stressed that multiple points of view are important for short stories to help draw in the audience. The different types of voice that were touched on were reliable narrator, first person, limited third person, involved author, detached author, and some others. I believe this is one of the characteristics I have the most trouble with while writing a short story. I do try to incorporate multiple dialgue, but never point of view. I will be trying this new technique.

Response to Emily's Random Impulse

Rolling hills, where I gained self loathing. Grass unbending to gusts of needed wind. Water holes run dry with heat. He is a drunk bastard with no beads of sweat. Cattle crossings and southern embellishment mascaraed as the sentiments of home. Trees of subtle shade bring relief to my worn down eyes, squinted under a cap of brown, tender sweat. A dinged white undershirt, thin: my mother has washed too many times.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Emily--
I'm not quite sure how you feel about poetry, (cause it's my fave, maybe that's why I am going in this direction) but I see a lot of potential in this piece for a poem. And if not exactly quite a poem, then maybe add the language to your junkyard, or flesh out the story more. For example, if I were to create some poetic elements out of this... It might go something like this: Rolling hills, grass unbending,/ gusts of wind needed./ Holes run dry.... (You get where I'm going?) Awesome. Also, the "self-loathing" is a bit ambiguous. I would try to work on that as well. Great job.

Response to Josh's: Break Up mostly finished?

First, I would like to say how humorous it was to click on your page and then have a pop up box saying, "Would you like to continue? This page may have content only suitable for adults?" Haha. Forreal?? Anyways... Back to this peer review...
This short story is awesome. So, make some more drafts-- perfect it. Then, when the time comes, submit it to the Eclectic. Forreal. My favorite characteristics of the story are the harsh elements you used throughout the context of your story. For example, ESKIMO KISSES. Thatis soooo creepy, but awesome. Needless to say, when I read your story I do get that "shock factor" in it as well. I am glad you cleaned up the first paragraph from the first draft that I saw about the communicating. I do believe you fleshed out your idea, and now it is more clear.
The end of your story would have to be my favorite part when the character says, "Eskimo Kisses." Creepy. And the reader knows what is exactly about to happen. Wow. Awesome. Keep up the great work, Josh!

Random Impulse-- Back to Poetry (Can't handle short stories!)

Apitoxin

The moment floats, its focus uncharted,

He here and I unmasked like candy in sun.

I fish out excuses to bridge the force,

But excuses too are seared and long-lived,

Excuses slashing life as life’s counterpart.

Still, I fall in the valley. The standstill

Stills all sweat—lines, curves, crevices—

Like stumbled bruises on the beaten path,

A small dam where the hand burns and pulls.

If six roses align in the neon pasture horizon,

I could imagine them as my outlet

Toward a path on the opposite of excuse:

Excuses clothed, excuses stripped, excuses kept.

A firm hand that meets points to joints.

With excuses, I can imagine what’s next

To know. With the excuse, of course.

I am in the calefaction of the situation,

It’s endowed, well endowed, with its knowledge,

It’s dance, on the hard peak of its comfort.

Of course there’s no other way. Of course not.

Side to side the bee comes and departs

From one rose. I look down to touch

The feel of sting: exhausted, worn,

A stem limp from a days work.

While I look, the bee does not return. Ever.

These are excuses when a reason is more than excuse

Or excused action: chocolate swimming in taste buds,

Medicine, amending, all reason being filled

To hear: an excuse.