Dust

[Alexander III]

Slowly, my past fades. The nights in Genoa when I walked along the sea, and my imagination was devoted to naive dreams of genius; songs full of future glory and beauty and adventure, which only a mind at seventeen is foolish and arrogant enough to create. Now that the guitar has gone silent, and I have forgotten the tune: only the obscure passions which the music created remain.

The memories of my infancy and childhood in Singapore, have abandoned me. They are but castles of sand which have been erased by the sea, the same sea which has endlessly taken with it the ruins of all eternal civilizations, and heroes, and ordinary men.

My time at university, all those nights spent with a few dear companions; youths who's spirits are bright and passionate, and able to obscure the flames of stars with their desires. Friends, the word itself seems an insult to what we were. We shared sentiments and thoughts like those of more than-brothers. The nights were filled with laughter and melancholy; sculpted by hard and steady fingers of philosophy and serious discussion; and also the softer furrows on those fingers, full of frivolity and laughter and understanding and humanity. The fingerprints of the sculptor on the clay statue of deity.

Those nights and mornings are real and alive in my mind. Their breath still leaving a fragrance of happiness, and my companions live in my thoughts as if they were all in this quiet room with me. All those nights full of youth and life, those friendships which are worthier to me than all the sublime sights to be found in this world - they too have begun to fade. These same men which I reminisce shall continue to live for many decades, but the youths of those nights, they are gone, and slowly yet surely my memories of them crumble.

In my mind their portraits are still stored, alive as if painted by the veined and wrinkled hands of Parrhasius and Zeuxis. But they shall decay, and the boys I once called my brothers shall become mere vague faces sketched in dust. That is all that shall remain of the tears and the smiles and the divinity which share: dust.

[Alexander III]

so...

[miyako73]

Alexander, you should really explore creative nonfiction. I see some traces of Pico Iyer in your writing, which seems effortlessly written and not too contrived.

[Alexander III]

Alexander, you should really explore creative nonfiction. I see some traces of Pico Iyer in your writing, which seems effortlessly written and not too contrived.

Thank you for your comment :)

[cafolini]

Dust right now or a little later? Devoid of reason a little later?

[Alexander III]

bumps for the sake of bumps


P.S Cafolini I am sadly forced to ignore you comment due to its illegibility. Weather it be my limited mind which cannot understand the profundity of your words, or if my mind is indeed clear and your words lack sentiment and reason - I cannot tell.

[miyako73]

Even your aside sounds elegant. How old are you? Is that Rimbaud in your avatar or some reckless American writer? How adventurous are you? Have you gatecrashed a party stoned while rumbling poetic lines?

[Alexander III]

Even your aside sounds elegant.

Thanks, I have always had a fondness for the Elizabethan poets and dramatists, for their elegance of phrase.


How old are you?

19, but I will be 20 in Autumn

Is that Rimbaud in your avatar or some reckless American writer?

That is Fitzgerald in his 20's, the very god of American recklessness.


How adventurous are you?

Quite a lot, I have traveled a lot of the world, and traveling is one of the few pursuits which I do not think pathetic.


Have you gatecrashed a party stoned while rumbling poetic lines?

I have never gone to a party I have not been somewhat invited to.

I am a university student, so I am stoned pretty much 24/7

Amongst my friends I am never poetic, only satiric.

[Darcy88]

This is genius. Its a fusion of Hemingway and Wilde. Great stuff man, great stuff truly. I will analyze it more later when I'm not struggling to keep open my eyes.

[Jack of Hearts]

Alex, this reader would feel like he was insulting you if he didn't reply to this with his true estimation. It reads purple and lofty. Someone might say that's only a matter of taste, though. Fair enough. This reader doesn't think your efforts lack all value. You have to run in the direction you feel is right- so this reply is also intended as good natured encouragement.






J

[Alexander III]

This is genius. Its a fusion of Hemingway and Wilde. Great stuff man, great stuff truly. I will analyze it more later when I'm not struggling to keep open my eyes.

You are to kind


Alex, this reader would feel like he was insulting you if he didn't reply to this with his true estimation. It reads purple and lofty. Someone might say that's only a matter of taste, though. Fair enough. This reader doesn't think your efforts lack all value. You have to run in the direction you feel is right- so this reply is also intended as good natured encouragement.
J

I thank you for your honesty, I could never be insulted by helpful criticism. In fact that is my chief problem, I always tend to write to abundantly and purply and it is a problem, I feared that this was too purple as well. Are there any instances in particular you think should definitely be cut to make the piece better?

[Jack of Hearts]

It's hard to say. Whenever this reader writes anything to purple or flowery it's not really a misstep in execution as much as it's a conceptual misstep. Surely everyone runs into this problem sometimes? Maybe it's more about a preconceived notion of what 'beautiful' writing is. The only thing this reader feels he can do is encourage you to search for a solution that suits you.





J

[Alexander III]

It's hard to say. Whenever this reader writes anything to purple or flowery it's not really a misstep in execution as much as it's a conceptual misstep. Surely everyone runs into this problem sometimes? Maybe it's more about a preconceived notion of what 'beautiful' writing is. The only thing this reader feels he can do is encourage you to search for a solution that suits you.

J

I see what you mean, well I have found re-writing is always the best solution - to re-write and re-write and then some, till you hit on it. Will try and re-write this thing and see if I can take it somewhere .

[miyako73]

Hi again, Alex. A loose advice from a lost soul in literature:

Your writing is already elegant, but your next step is to make your readers excited or agitated to know you and why you write that way. With your smoking habit and flagrant admiration for "the god of recklessness," you can spice your work with interesting edginess.

Maybe you can write about strippers and prostitutes as if they are angels or about beggars as if they can grant mercy. Maybe you can make an adventurous boy who wonders all day how one makes love your hero.

Well, these are the things I wanted to write in my youth but had no elegant prose like yours. You can write about apples elegantly but it won't move me. Write about orange peels as if they are fruits, I'll read it repeatedly word for word as if I eat them.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

I found this to be an excellent piece. I love your subject matter, Alex.

[dark desire]

Thanks, I have always had a fondness for the Elizabethan poets and dramatists, for their elegance of phrase.

19, but I will be 20 in Autumn

That is Fitzgerald in his 20's, the very god of American recklessness.

Quite a lot, I have traveled a lot of the world, and traveling is one of the few pursuits which I do not think pathetic.

I have never gone to a party I have not been somewhat invited to.

I am a university student, so I am stoned pretty much 24/7

Amongst my friends I am never poetic, only satiric.

The teenager you have created here is not very difficult to catch. :P

The lie of your age goes poetically with the piece. Logical assertions to prove this will be an insult to the piece you have posted here.

You made me imagine things
You struck a chord
with the teenage life
that I never got to live

That dream had vanished
And yet you brought it to life
A desire that never breathed life
That never will breath life

Many such desires are buried in the heart
A puff of air with a piece like this
This is all they deserve
this is all they can ever get

You call it's dust,
It's your piece, it's your past
I am no one to ask you to see it otherwise
I just want to thank you
For having written this piece

[AuntShecky]

I will give you my impression of this piece, albeit shaded by the uncomfortable
position into which my slowly-healing broken hip has forced me, the pain medication notwithstanding.

I'm afraid I have to agree somewhat with Jack-of-Hearts on this one. It's not
so much that the prose is "purple," however, but rather that it's a tad abstract. Although the piece begins with the idea that the narrator's memory "fades", he might have at least retained a few vivid recollections of such exotic places as Genoa and Singapore. In the general way in which the two references appear here, they could have been any two randomly selected place-names. I'm not entirely convinced that the narrator had ever set foot in either of the cities mentioned. Likewise, a brief capsule or anecdote about those university days and the narrator's schoolmates would have enlivened this piece.

Structurally as well as thematically, some expressive, active verbs would have vastly improved this narrative. For example, the second line, despite its length and inexplicable use of semi-colons, is actually a sentence fragment because of its lack of a main verb. Also try to avoid minor errors and typos such as "who's spirits" ( should be the possessive--whose.) Another pitfall to avoid is hackneyed thoughts and ideas, such as the amorphous description of the sea and the central metaphor, dust, a theme which has already been done ad nauseam.

In one of your replies you deny that you are lyrical and affirm that your personality is more "satiric." I've noticed that sardonic side of you in your other postings, and I do believe that's a quality you should try to develop. On that note, I'd say if there's one thing this piece suffers from is that it tries to take itself seriously.

Hope you accept this criticism and do not feel hurt as I do not mean to be harsh. Because of my current condition, my time on the PC is very limited, so please be assured that I thought that your piece was worth the time and comment.

Best wishes,
Auntie

[miyako73]

Auntie, this is the kind of critique I so want to read. You pointed to the writer where and what to develop. You did not mangle the structure of the piece. You dissected the content. Please write more critiques. I want to read. Thanks.