Jul. 23rd, 2010 10:55 pm
ravenswept: (Default)
Remember that post a few posts back, when I depressed the hell out of myself because I let my brain run to long on its own? Yeah, I seem to have the opposite problem right now.

I got nothing. Well, not true, there's thoughts, ideas, stupid short stories that I'm starting to get pissed about getting, when I have bigger projects that need work, but I let out anyway because I figure if I just go with the flow, they won't take up any more disk space and I can focus on other things, but right now...nothing.

Nothing I want to write about. Nothing that'd be interesting. It's a weird sense of wanting to just sit on the couch and stare at a blank TV until I fall asleep, all because I don't have the want to do anything better.

All this? Stream of conscious, only way to get anything down. And bloody difficult, that want to just veg and do nothingness makes typing harder than it should be.

And it whole experience right now is strange, because I do have things I could be working on. There's a short something or other, involving another nameless, faceless person, sitting alone in a room with a bottle of wine and a gun. Tigress is skimming along, most of the fixed outline is near complete. I actually have an outline for the still unnamed noir story, hopefully that takes off.

But I don't want to work on them, any of them. I don't want to force it, I've seen what happens when I attempt that. And it sucks. Sucks hard. This whole feeling does, it can go away anytime now.

One thing of note, if you want to call it that, is apparently I'll have to really bring out the big guns should I decide to go any further with that attempt horror story. That one, just a few entries downward. Yeah, I posted it on [livejournal.com profile] a_soc_k to see what kind of reaction I'd get off it, and god damn we have some jaded readers out there.

I can't say I blame them, I'm not too happy with it myself, looking back. Bad experiment, I think, trying to capture in a first-person perspective entirely in dialog. That, and following Saw, Hostel, and (don't blame me if you look this up, [livejournal.com profile] limiinal is the one who pointed me towards it) The Human Centipede, I'd have a lot of work making it something that actually be scary, or at least frightening. Especially in words, there are details that just are so much more... squicky when seen visually.

And Clive Barker has already beaten me to that punch. Hellraiser and all that.

But I'm starting to think I'm getting settled in first-person a bit. It's easy, falling into the mind of someone else. Not easy, always, getting that into words, but it's fun trying to convey how this person thinks, without actually saying it. Which is why I like the noir story more, it's a strange and fascinating dynamic where what she says and what she's thinking are often two different things. Or opposite things. Or the same, but still a lie. Maybe it helps that I know how it ends.

Okay, I've rambled enough. I mainly wanted to get something down here, I missed my self-appointed Wed deadline. I'd feel bad if I missed two in a row. Maybe.
ravenswept: (Default)
I'm not crazy you know.

No, I'm not. Not really. A tad bit mad, maybe...possibly...but not crazy.

No, that would mean I didn't quite know what I'm doing right now; are the straps too tight, by the way? I know it'll be meaningless in a few moments, but still, no point in unnecessary discomfort. See, would a crazy person care about something like that?

But, anyway, I'm well aware of the ramifications of my actions. The papers are just little bit more, shall we say, verbous in their depictions of my work. But they need to sell papers, going out of business and all, so I guess my little hobbies seem like wonderful little front page news for them.

I don't care for the nickname, though. "Macabre Killer"; it's so, I don't know, grisely. I'm merely an artist. My chosen canvas happens to be flesh, so can you blame me for getting a little uptight for being labelled by something so not what I'm going for? Also, please stop shaking, you're going to cause leather burns, and that's not what I'm trying to achieve this time.

Sorry to say, you won't be the main focus of this piece. That honor goes to her, over there. What? You don't like it? Well, excuse me, she's not finished yet. God, everyone thinks just because they've seen Saw and all those shitty sequels, anyone can be a critic. Do you know how much work goes into this projects? How much effort it takes to find the right subject matter, let alone getting them to my studio? Do you?

Sorry, sorry, hehe, I'm a bit passionate about my work. That's why I'm an artist, you see, the passion behind every cut and stuture. It's not unlike Dali's work in some ways, you see melted and disfigured shapes and objects, when that's not the point at all. It's the thought of why things are like that, why did artist choose to make them that way. It's actually quite quieting.

Oh, would you stop crying already? I haven't even started yet, and it's not like you'll feel anything, I'm not that cruel. I just flip this switch over here, and zap you're out like a light. I just need a few parts. It's one of the sad ways of my craft, actually finding the right tones and hues. But, lucky me, I found you! And you're just near perfect, yes you are. Yes, I'm sorry, here let me get those tears for you, but that's the way it needs to be. We can't all fulfill our purpose. So how lucky are you do finally do so, right?

I think I've rambled on long enough; thank you for listening. Well, whatever you heard between your little triads through the gag, rather rude I must say. But, listen you did, and I don't often enough have people to actually talk to, so thank you none the less.

...yes. I know, you don't need to say it.

I could. Easily, just loosen that one link behind you and it all comes loose pretty quickly.

I could.

But I don't want to.



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