NEWBIE:Lower than batshit.Lower than Jessica Simpson's IQ.The lowest of the low.
Oh sweet jesus help me. I'm new here and lost as hell. I'm headed for the writer's workshop though. I've been lurking over the weekend. I wanted to try posting a hello. This site is going to completely destroy my productivity at work.
I am a fan of Mr. Palahniuk. After lurking here for a short while, I'm quite a fan of this site. I feel strangely at home here. I tried a writer's workshop class a few months ago, and I'm just now starting to get over the experience. I think I like it better here.
As a writer, I am a complete failure. My failure is exceeded only by passionate self-loathing. I'm trying to change my writing process as it is dysfunctional and sad. In the past I have done some music reviews for an experimental/electronic e-zine community in the UK. I received free music. The site/ e-zine changed format and I no longer write reviews there. I want to start writing fiction or creative non-fiction or something. I just need to be more productive. Lately I have been responding to (and corresponding with) those Nigerian advance fee scam e-mails. It’s amazing what people will let you say when they are trying to steal from you. When I was in high school, I had a girlfriend who was totally over my head. She would run away from home and come to my house in the middle of the night. We’d listen to “The Wall” all night and have sex. My room was on the second floor of our house, so I created this fantastic crisis wake-up-ringer mechanism for when she’d run away. I ran a rope out of my window and down to the ground. Attached to the other side of the rope was a pair of vice grips clamped onto an antique rusted cowbell that my grandmother gave me. My grandmother lived with us years earlier and would ring the bell from her bedroom when she needed something. Anyway, this beautiful girl would run away from home, come to my house at 3am and pull on the rope. The rope would pull the vice grip/cowbell contraption off my desk and fall ringing and banging into the wall. I’d be in a total panic from all the noise but I’d sneak her into my room and the smell of her hair would slow down my heart rate. Sometimes her parents would be inquisitive and figure out that she had left home in the middle of the night and would send the Maryland State Police to my house. We might be having sex in the bushes and I’d see the police roll up. I’d have to run around the house to the back door, into the house, answer the door and tell the police that I had no idea where she was. She used to draw pictures of household chaos. Children starting floods, cats licking up spilled Windex, babies on fire and the like. I would take her to parties and have to seek her out at the end of the night. At one party, the police came. We had to get out of the house but I couldn’t find her. I heard a police officer say that he had found some whacko girl balled up in the fetal position, crying in a closet. I interrupted him and said, "oh, that sounds like my girlfriend." I broke up with her so she bought me sheep's testicles from the grocery store. I think she had to order them special. She gave the testicles to me in a bag with all the love notes I had ever written her. I saved the testicles for a month in my garage. I was planning on giving them back to her when they were ripe but I forgot. My mom found them and I've always wanted to capture moments like that on paper. I hope that this forum and the writer’s workshop can help me.
[SIZE=1]Some scientists claim that hydrogen, because it is so plentiful, is the basic building block of the universe. I dispute that. I say there is more stupidity than hydrogen, and that is the basic building block of the universe.