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Stuff I done wrote: Take Two Read, complain, critique, rip into

#1 User is offline   Patrick Bateman Icon

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Posted 05 July 2005 - 09:48 PM

Schoolgirl



It itched. It itched and ran a groove across the bone and however much he wished it otherwise, it would simply have to be accepted.
While it was his duty to perform it had of course been coopted, Julie would never wear a ring she had not chosen and he of course could never spot the ring she would choose. He had taken a half day to shop for engagement rings but to no avail, he struggled to capture what it was that held allure, in the end they were all simply shiny, they were all tied with string and a tag that itself almost drew breath.
“Julie, I've grown to know in you a love that breaks my heart. I would be ever so honoured if you were to spend your life in my arms.”
It was the 'ever so honoured' that she teased him over, but it was the 'grown' that stuck in his throat .You were not supposed to grow to love your wife. Were you?

David Chambers. No matter how the day ended he would wake David Chambers. Would she wake Julie Chambers or Julie Richards?
He ran his index finger and thumb across the ring again, twisting and pulling slightly, adjusting, letting it breath and sweat against the knuckle. Goddam it itched. She had chosed style over comfort and here he was, on his knees adjusting a ring and blinking more than usual.

Her voice melliflousous, supple, her tongue could slide and gracefully tickle the roof of her mouth - your mouth - lips, teeth, tongue.
And she would tease you with a glance, she would turn slightly and that would be all, that would be all until lunch perhaps, she would pass your table and brush your knee with hers. Years later you would be in the middle of your bullshit relationship and she would appear, still sixteen, green woolen jumper and pleated skirt, white collar peaking and silver cross stroking her collar bone, and you would wretch ... you would quietly die one more time, every time. And you would look back at you and yours and you would nod a little, it was all good. It was all good, but never as good and it would never be ...


What was it Father Thomas said? This was a commitment for not simply this life but the next? Was that right? He'd barely been paying attention, a load of superstitious waffle, but ... for all eternity, why did this seem so intimidating? That teasing smile, those big green eyes, the nape of her neck ... for all eternity.
Right knee calls out for a rub, too old now to kneel for long, too old perhaps for confession ... he half smiled at this and adjusted to a crouch, a squat, bouncing now he felt the cool breeze of first sweat as he knew a decision was near.

...

- Fuck me Dave, all hell's breaking loose, Julie's oblivious but you've hell to pay with her folks, they know a sick puppy when they see one. What the fuck got into you? -
He did not move, eyes still on the silver and gold he replied, voice crack a needless reminder
- I don't love her ... or I do, but ... -
He placed the ring in the palm of his hand and index finger and thumb now massaged the bridge of his nose, eyes slammed shut, a swallow, regathered he continued
- It's off. It's all off. It's all ... -

The crowd disbands, pews empty but for rose red programmes, a broken man lightly steps down the aisle.
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#2 User is offline   WalkingCarpet Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 05:53 AM

The word melliflousous is making my brain itch.

Sounds interesting though, I like the tone of it so far. Keep it up.
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#3 User is offline   Rhubarb Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 07:49 AM

Can I have a synopsis?
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#4 User is offline   Hari Seldon Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 07:56 AM

Is it "complete"?
"I prefer rationalism to atheism. The question of God and other objects-of-faith are outside reason and play no part in rationalism, thus you don't have to waste your time in either attacking or defending."

Isaac Asimov
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#5 User is offline   Marky Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 03:05 PM

There doesn't seem to be a clue.
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#6 User is offline   Patrick Bateman Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 07:34 PM

Yeah dude it is complete. I think I made it a little too vague, not a good thing to do.

It's about a young man minutes before his wedding, who has grabbed the ring from the best man and retreated to the little side room the groom has to chill before the ceremony. He is panicked over the commitment and is on his knees trying to figure out what to do. The ring is supposed to be a metaphor for the smothering of the marriage ... also the relationship - she chose it, it itches and is too tight but she wasn't considerate enough to worry about this. The italics are his memories of his first girlfriend, someone he has been able to shake off, she taunts him during every relationship he has had since. The best man comes in, it's called off and the groom -after waiting for everyone to leave - leaves, apparently a broken man but with a spring to his step.

I'll post something else up, a little less vague hopefully, also a little more R rated in parts. I'm not sure if that's cool so if it isn't - whoever censors these boards - feel free to let me know or delete it or something.

And rhubarb, I apologise for being nice ... it shall not happen again, bitch.

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#7 User is offline   Hari Seldon Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 07:50 PM

QUOTE (Patrick Bateman @ Jul 7 2005, 12:34 AM)
Yeah dude it is complete. I think I made it a little too vague, not a good thing to do.

It's about a young man minutes before his wedding, who has grabbed the ring from the best man and retreated to the little side room the groom has to chill before the ceremony. He is panicked over the commitment and is on his knees trying to figure out what to do. The ring is supposed to be a metaphor for the smothering of the marriage ... also the relationship - she chose it, it itches and is too tight but she wasn't considerate enough to worry about this. The italics are his memories of his first girlfriend, someone he has been able to shake off, she taunts him during every relationship he has had since. The best man comes in, it's called off and the groom -after waiting for everyone to leave - leaves, apparently a broken man but with a spring to his step.

I'll post something else up, a little less vague hopefully, also a little more R rated in parts. I'm not sure if that's cool so if it isn't - whoever censors these boards - feel free to let me know or delete it or something.

And rhubarb, I apologise for being nice ... it shall not happen again, bitch.

  tongue.gif


It's a little too vague, maybe... or maybe I didn't pay enough attention while reading.
But it seems to be well written.
"I prefer rationalism to atheism. The question of God and other objects-of-faith are outside reason and play no part in rationalism, thus you don't have to waste your time in either attacking or defending."

Isaac Asimov
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#8 User is offline   Patrick Bateman Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 07:55 PM

Hows about this one. Hopefully a little less vague ...




Well, satisfied.





So there I am, one arm resting against the speckled gray. Not a simple task, the edge of the bar is curved, leaning too far to the right I'm able to balance somewhat precariously. I ease my left arm to horizontal and chug a lug the remains of my White Russian. My mind screams to stand upright and relax awhile, screams to resist a grimace at the aftertaste. A foul drink to drink, but a fine drink to order.
The floor pounds with the stomp of hundreds of behind the beat feet and tipsy tiddly toes, yet none belong to a torso of interest.
Flashes are all that appear. An arm is raised, then at the side, fingers running through the hair and then pointing to the sky. The eyes see the flashes and snapshots of adrenaline overload and the mind complies, aware of the deception but too joyful to resist.
Yet even here, in this most perfect environment, I am unable to feel any excitement.
And then...
I turn and see the glass rattling slightly, and raise the eyeline to her shoulder, nape of the neck and lips as she yells for another round.
She turns, meets my gaze and smiles the smile of a thousand daily greetings.
Secretary I think, used to plastic politeness, manners as artifice.
“Secretary” I say, with a little raise of the head, slight grin, smiling eyes.
“No” she replies, but does not leave. She does not turn and walk away, the drinks stay put.
I have her and I know it. I am not alone, a woman rarely risks a man's first move.
“Why secretary? Why not model?”
“You're too pretty to be a model. You're... well, too pretty.”
She smiles at the absurdity, I grab her hand.
I feel a tug of resistance. She needs to say goodnight to friends and friends of friends. She points to me and I point back, we all stare a little too long and pretend to approve.
I should have scouted the room one more time, a brunette has escaped my gaze and now she stares back a little too intensely.
The more attractive friend.
Interesting.
Oh well.
The night air brings water to my eyes. I have my arm around her shoulder now as I lean out to hail a passing cab. We step inside, the cabbie knows the drill, his sheen of jealousy the halo of a fresco saint. Judas perhaps, the fallen disciple. Judas kicks the accelerator and we begin.
We take over a corner of the back seat and make unbelievably small talk. I scramble for anything to say, something, anything.
“Simon can dance, but Judas can Disco.”
It works, she laughs and all is comfortable again.
“What does that mean?”
“I have no idea, but it would make a great title for my autobiography. Peter can dance, but Judas can Disco perhaps.”
I stare out the window, prepare my most winsome face, apply, “People always search for love in the wrong places, search for advice from the wrong faces. We search for love's answers from the famous, the wonderful, the glorious. We need to search where love is the only possibility. Find the skankiest, most unkempt, foul, putrid malcontent and ask his wife these same questions. Here the answer can only be love, and nothing more.” It is the soliloquy I employ most often and it never fails to delight.
She nod's agreement and with this we feel we have elevated the night into something it is not. This is no longer a night of folly. This is to be a night of love, a set course in the search for love at the least.
Nothing could be further from the truth of course, but we are fools most willing.
We stumble from the cab and step ever so briskly. I grab her ass as I bring the keys to the door. Freud has a field day as I struggle with the lock.

I kiss her on the cheek, her neck, her chest, she makes a kissing noise in simultaneous reply. That, the desire to kiss, to share, is of great comfort.
I come so hard I feel I'm drowning.

She wakes in my arms and I mouth hello. I have never felt more naked, neither has she.
We look at each other, smile, we both know.
There's something... what a pulp magazine would call, something missing. This is no surprise but always disappointing. Like scratching two liberty bells and a cherry.
Perhaps we both want the same things, just not each other.
I want someone to read the morning paper to, she wants someone to share back pockets with on afternoon trips to the supermarket.
No spark.
We're like two best friends who make out Friday night because they can't be bothered changing into less comfortable shoes.
She dresses and leaves, I offer to pay for her ride, she declines. We cheek peck goodbye, I return to bed.
Drifting off I remember a caterpillar that stayed with me all day, years ago. On my arm lecture after lecture, staring back at me, like the worm on every Richard Scarry page. By the end of the day I was exhausted, but for that day I felt I had won.
I was ahead, not satisfied, but ahead, one step closer to satisfaction.
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#9 User is offline   Rhubarb Icon

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Posted 06 July 2005 - 08:32 PM

QUOTE (Patrick Bateman @ Jul 6 2005, 07:34 PM)
The italics are his memories of his first girlfriend, someone he has been able to shake off

Ohhhhhhh!
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#10 User is offline   Marky Icon

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Posted 11 July 2005 - 05:53 AM

Your stories seem at first to have something to tell, but in the end it's all a bit too obvious and it lacks a real plot, in my opinion.
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#11 User is offline   Otal Nimrodi Icon

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Posted 11 July 2005 - 07:20 AM

An excellently well written story. I loved it! But, there is one thing.

QUOTE
People always search for love in the wrong places, search for advice from the wrong faces.

-You, this story.

Sounds an awful lot like

QUOTE
Looking for love, in all the wrong places. Looking for love, in to many faces.


-Some (probably country) singer, slightly less recently.

Other than that, it was perfect! (And just so you know, this is the best review I have ever given.)

This post has been edited by Otal Nimrodi: 11 July 2005 - 07:22 AM

Want a Tarot reading?

PM me, we'll talk.
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#12 User is offline   Patrick Bateman Icon

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Posted 13 July 2005 - 10:46 PM

Thanks for all the feedback guys.
I just got an email today from an editor of a literary magazine here in NZ accepting a short story for publication, so it looks like I am slowly on the way.

I never noticed the

"People always search for love in the wrong places, search for advice from the wrong faces."


"Looking for love, in all the wrong places. Looking for love, in to many faces."

similarites before, but now that you mention it, yeah I agree it is very suspiciously similar. It's funny, from time to time I write something and then a month later find a line or two in my favourite novels. I suppose the old brain subconsciously steals from time to time. Thanks for pointing that out, it may save me from being sued in the future!!!
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#13 User is offline   Slade Icon

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Posted 17 July 2005 - 02:52 AM

Yeah, it does. Bradbury called his character's Faber and Montag without realizing that they were a pencil and paper company, respectively, in Farenheit 451. I've had it happen to me upon occasion, and my outlook on life always seems to sneak into what I write even if I don't want it to.

I am intrigued, but you need some hardc0rz0r editing done. Your lack of punctuation and abrupt and unintentional voice changes make my hair sad. Keep it up though, I say!
This space for rent. Inquire within.
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