Tuesday, March 2, 2004

Estne Scelestus?


You are Pig Pen!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
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Hah. Still no one's commented on my story.

I think some must feel, "Oh, he must have been raped, or something, when he was younger." No, actually, I wasn't. And that's the truth. The closest it's gotten to that with my dad is still pretty far.

One day I threw this big tantrum since I couldn't go to a friend's. Something stupid like that. So, up in my room, I kicked this low piece of wall that wasn't too thick. I broke it. Put a hole right in it. My dad soon came up, and on my bed he slapped me. It wasn't a big, hard slap. Just one slap. That was all.

Yeah. That's the closest it's gotten to rape on my end. Pff. Anyway. Just wanted to clear that up.

Or maybe no one's posting either a) because the story is so goddamned awesome b) they stopped reading it in revulsion after they found out what its subject matter was c) they're just too lazy to read it d)they thought it was terrible and didn't merit a post at all e) they just didn't read it and were too lazy. Whatever the case, it's no big deal.

I stayed after school and submitted some of my stories/ poetry to the new lit mag we're getting at school, Anti. It's headed by this girl who's also on newspaper staff and is co-editor. Her name's Lisa Horner. She seems interesting enough to me, but we haven't really said much to each other. Just passing things.

You see, she's one of those quiet-type people. And I'm one of those quiet-type people (who sits and watches people giving out sparse funny comments here and there).

Along with submitting the story I've been talking about this whole time, "This Note Is Legal Tender," I also submitted: "The Pig of the Machine (The Desolate Shatter and the Open Plain" and "The Desolate Shatter and the Open Plain (Poem)" and "The Looming" and "Cocoon Swoon" and "Maggotula Rose." I think that's all of it.

I plan on submitting even more. But for the time being, yeah, that's all of it.

Well, back to my story. I felt so wonderful after writing it. You know the feeling. It's the feeling where you just feel you've put down something right, done something right, and it's just great.

At first when I sat down to write the story, I felt devoid of anything. I didn't feel like writing. I had wanted to write more of "Dead Astronaut" but decided against it. I just wasn't in the mood. My dad had been giving me his daily sermon on how I need to clean my room and how I need a job and all that. So I wasn't in too good of a mood.

And then wham. The story was just there. I had a one dollar bill in my hand and I just started writing about it, describing it. And then it went further on. And then I saw what Silivan Taylor wanted me to do. I saw, on my dollar bill, "THIS NOTE IS LEGAL TENDER FOR ALL DEBTS, PUBLIC AND PRIVATE." And I knew what I was going to do.

The image was beautiful. Silivan would stick the dollar bill in his Father's headhole from the bullet. He would circle the upper left part of the front that said: "THIS NOTE IS LEGAL TENDER FOR ALL DEBTS, PUBLIC AND PRIVATE." And then he would walk away saying, "Now you can't say I never did anything for you, Father." It was genius. I still think it was genius.

It felt amazing last night at about one in the morning as I winded down and was finished with it. It still looks like that on paper. Every word of the thing is just so great, and I like the heavy subject matter, I like what it says. I love Sylivan Taylor as a character. . .I love him.

If you've been reading my stuff long enough, and I've shown you some other piece I did once, you'll realize Sylivan Taylor isn't a new character. I once wrote a piece about him, but it was going nowhere, and I didn't know what was happening, so it's sat where it's sat ever since. I'll have to find it and tweak it and make it into an ongoing part of Sylivan Taylor.

You see, I'm not done with Sylivan Taylor.

What he is now is interesting. You can't help but see what he is--he's a man that was molested, raped, and so on, by his Father. And so he's become like his Father. And he knows it, but he can't fight what he is. You just can't say what Sylivan is doing is wrong, exactly. That is, if you're being as openminded when you come to this story as I always am with stuff like this. I'm not saying what Sylivan is doing as character is right, but it's the way he is.

His Father made him like that. With his Father raping him, and so on, all those years, Sylivan had grown to like it. Had grown to like to rape women. To rape men. His Father, in turn, made him what he is. One could say Sylivan is just a disciple of Fate. The Fate that his Father would make him what he is.

Needless to say, Sylivan is one of the most alive characters I've ever written. I could just feel him when I was writing last night. It was great, great having the feeling I was writing such an amazing, such a good, character down. That I was writing something I knew was good.

I plan to write more of him tonight.

But, first, I have homework crap to do.

We have to learn Polyatomic Ions for Chemistry. 19 of them. I doubt I will be able to. I'm wondering if I should even do it. I'm so damn lazy, and I just don't give a crap about it at all.

You know, learning stuff the way school teaches you is just lame. But anyway.

I found my book, Night, by the way. I'll probably finish it tonight. I could've finished it yesterday, but I was busy. It was my brother's birthday last night.

It's pretty crazy, though. 2 weeks to read this book. I'm done with it in 2 days, and I could've been even less. The thing is, with stuff like this in this class, I usually put it off until the last moment. Such as when we were reading Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I wasn't interested in it, really.

There was a part speaking about how Maya was raped. That part was interesting, but Maya was so scant on talking about it that I was left with little about it. I mean, it's a terrible thing, but the only way to get it out of your system is to talk about it.

Yeah. Just a heads-up on things.

Lea just IMed me, and she said she was convinced the story was real. So was I.

So was I.
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