This is Almost Off-topic

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Archmage144
 

This is Almost Off-topic

Unread postby Archmage144 » Mon Jun 14, 2004 1:25 pm

I started writing randomly, kind of stream of consciousness, based off something I wrote earlier for the hell of it, and this is what came out:

The night I met her will stick in my mind as an infamous, unforgettable time in my life, one that I simply cannot bring myself to forget. Every detail of the evening is permanently etched into my memory. The dim red light of the room contrasted sharply with the silvery, shimmering evening gown that had wrapped itself around her body in an embrace that later I would find myself unraveling. Conversations wafted through the dining hall that night like the odors of fine wine and garlic, but none of them mattered, as they were merely muted voices that could never sing in chorus with my companion for the night, not even worthy of serving as harmony. That night, in retrospect, was all a lot of frilly lace and candles, flashy garments and expensive appetizers. And I'll never forget the year. 1997. Not the year we met, of course, but the year on the bottle of Cabernet Sauvingon, which to this date I swear up and down was the best fifty dollars I ever spent.

Unfortunately, this was a complete and utter fabrication, and it stank like a cheap cigar snuffed out on the back of a sleazy stripper in a disreputable club crammed in the back corner of a downtown that had seen better days—most notably before it was built. A pitiable and clumsy metaphor, admittedly, but the best I could do to describe the horrendous lie that was the past six years of my life. None of it had really happened, and trying to put the lot into any sort of temporal perspective was much like opening a box of cheese crackers. Inevitably, no matter how lucky or skilled you were, there was going to be a lot of debris on the bottom that there was simply no way to eat short of scooping up the pile and shoving it into your mouth unceremoniously after making sure no one was watching your gluttonous display. Coming off as piggish was always a negative. Nevertheless, after tearing apart the words that seemed to so adequately describe an intricate falsehood, I came to a conclusion that any sane man would have reached given a few hours in a study with a green desk lamp that provided the atmosphere of a banker’s office minus the actual responsibility of being a banker—and most certainly minus the associated cash, because in those days, I was broke beyond understanding of most mortal men. To suggest that I was poor would be an untruth, because poor is a word used to describe the toothless, slimy beggar who stands on the corner in his thrift-store lumberjack button-up shirt and greasy, torn jeans. If he had bought them that way and spent over sixty dollars on them, the rips, tears, and faded spots might be considered a fashion statement, albeit a bizarre and paradoxical one, but since he had to work for his ripped jeans, he was a bum, not a trendsetter. Alas, I digress, as I have a tendency to do when tearing apart my own creations and tossing them, like so many bank statements, into the paper shredder.

Somewhere in this morass of thought and disjunction, I was attempting to describe one simple fact: I knew, then and there, that I had to find a new opening for my novel.
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Capntastic
Aa, cracked glass!
 
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Re: This is Almost Off-topic

Unread postby Capntastic » Mon Jun 14, 2004 7:08 pm

This is decidedely O. Henry, and thus I give it a doubleplus good!



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