Viewing blog entries in category: Johnny
That feeling you're getting.
That feeling of sinking in a cold ocean. You being submerged by a pair of grasping hands. When you look who it is, you see a phantom of yourself pulling you deeper into the depths. You don't want to go where he's leading... dragging you to stay. You know you can't hold your breath forever. You tried before, it didn't work out.
So you thrash your way to the surface. You fight. You fight against yourself. You fight for the breath of fresh air that's been taken away. Nothing will be the same, but that's okay.
You're still here, grasping onto a plank of wood from the inevitable sinking ship.
It's Christmas season. Along with it comes the pure white snow on the ground, the skeletal trees swaying--lashing out--in the wind, and, of course, the story of a boy and his magical bag.
For about a year--on-and-off--I've been thinking about a story. It came from the idea that I wanted to do something like Alice's Adventure's in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll or like Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland, and I wanted it to be as dark as The Thief of Always by Clive Barker--maybe even darker if I can get away with it.
Maybe one day all the pieces will come tumbling my way. Maybe wishful thinking but who really knows, right?
I’ve been busy. I’ve got deadlines to fulfill. All three of them ending by October 31st. It’s been pretty strenuous on me. At the end of most days, I find myself shut out from my mind until the workers who maintain it tell me, “You’re ready to go back to work. Remember the furnace is broken, so if you feel light-headed, you’ve got to stop or we’ll be dragging you out.”
I hope by November 1st, I’ll be more active on the site than However, I will find the time to vote for the best—not my favourite— short story of the month.
I’ve got another deadline. But that’s on December 2nd. I’m not worried about that. Not at all.cydney likes this.
They say you can't get revenge on an animal. I disagree.
The pack of dogs that attacked my dog are going to get their comeuppance. They'll learn, for a split second, that they should have never messed with my dog. My piss boils every time I think of my dog covered in blood. It could have been worse, but luckily I stirred awake and went into a blind rage and scared them off.Ameshin likes this.
A plateful of bullshit landed on my lap. When I looked at the label attached to it, it said, "Johnny, On behalf of -----."
I was thinking, Why? Why is it my choice when it's supposed to be taken care of by someone else? I shouldn't be the one who's put on the spot. It's complete--
Bullshit. It seems a lot has come my way this past month.
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