Short Story about a realisation of an existential nature.

[Jaybsp]

I loved her, for two years without doubt. At the very least it was for two years. Love is funny, it’s like a sickness, it’s something that consumes you, makes you weak and vulnerable and desperate but it’s filled with beauty. I tried so hard to get her to love me but she just didn’t want to, no matter what I did. I got a haircut, I listened to the same music. I stayed up all night talking to her, we flirted. She loved to flirt. She loved it. She would do this thing where she pinched my hands, really hard, she drew blood, I liked it, I thought it was romantic, she spat in my face, I spat in hers, it was nihilistic. There was always affection but never love. I realised that she would never love me so I tried to **** her, I wanted to **** her so bad, I was desperate, but she just didn’t want to. I gave up eventually, I found another girl, we were great together and she loved me deeply, she really cared for me but she had no passion. I got rid of her. This year I found out that all this time she did love me, but she was too scared of the idea that she never acted on it, when I didn't need her or her love she gave it to me. It’s moments like these that make like amazing, these little ironies. The pain I felt has shaped me immensely, I still remain a romantic but life is worth living, just for the absurd humour of it, it’s like something from a Woody Allen film, it’s very funny when I think about it. The contrast between extremes in life fills me with hope, if I can feel deep sadness then I can feel deep ecstasy and it’s this basic fundamental of humanity that makes life worth living, when we feel pain we shouldn't be annoyed or oppressed by it but rather find it empowering. We live a world full of absurdities and if something as insignificant and a teenage girl can show me the beauty of life then it can be found anywhere. Pain and beauty are combined notions, there’s no darkness without light, there’s no hot without cold, there’s no humanity without pain and empathy. This is what makes us different to the other animals. We live in this world with no meaning but we create it, we really do, how we react to situations like the one mentioned is what defines us as beings, gives us our essence. I found that at the age of 18 I understood myself and the world around me in a way that has given me purpose and hope. Life is all about authenticity, it doesn’t matter what your thoughts are but as long as they’re authentic then they will resonate and touch people in such a way. To think that I’ve found this out all through a ‘silly’ love I had for a girl as a 14 year old is incredible. Whoever tells you that teenage love doesn’t matter is lying, it doesn’t matter in the way you might think it does but this is proof that even suffering can lead to happiness.

[hillwalker]

I was immediately put off by the title (!) and the solid block of text (try using paragraphs and line spaces

like this).

And having read through this it didn't really mean much to me as an impartial reader. It's little more than navel gazing.

H

[WolfLarsen]

I was immediately put off by the title (!) and the solid block of text (try using paragraphs and line spaces

like this).

And having read through this it didn't really mean much to me as an impartial reader. It's little more than navel gazing.

H

I couldn't disagree more. This is very good writing. Unusual. I love the title! The solid paragraph form works in this case.

It's also writing full of life, definitely doesn't appeal to more academic types.

[Delta40]

You need to tighten this up. Somehow, it only really scratches at the surface. I imagined this as a monologue performance and it would not move the audience as it is.

[WolfLarsen]

You need to tighten this up. Somehow, it only really scratches at the surface. W imagined this as a monologue performance and it would not move the audience as it is.

Who cares about the audience?

The job of the audience is to pay, sit, listen, and clap.

[Delta40]

Who cares about the audience?

The job of the audience is to pay, sit, listen, and clap.

Lol. How I wish for the days when we could throw rotting fruit 'n veg if we didn't like what we heard!

[DocHeart]

Who cares about the audience?

The job of the audience is to pay, sit, listen, and clap.


Assuming they're retarded, it should be easy to make them do just that.

Guess what. They're not.

[liza]

I realised that she would never love me so I tried to **** her, I wanted to **** her so bad, I was desperate, but she just didn’t want to. I gave up eventually,

:ciappa: what did you try to do to her ?? why ?? it isn't necessary for people like you .. if you are a writer .. you don't need sex .. relationships and all these stupid things..

[WolfLarsen]

I don't think that the job of the writer is to entertain the audience. I agree that the audience should never be bored! But entertaining the audience and not boring the audience are too different things.

I got up in front of the audience at the Green Mill Tavern in Chicago and I made it clear to them that I wasn't there to entertain them in the classical sense. I was there to shove my material down their throat, whether they liked it or not. And I was there to shove my material down their throat in anyway I saw fit.

Those who were there will never forget my performance. I nearly caused a riot. Certainly, nobody was bored.

Even amongst those who hated it there were people who were glad that I stood up to the audience. The writer/poet should do whatever he wants, and not worry about whether the audience likes it or not.

Creativity and freedom of expression is everything, as well as the right to express it.

[Delta40]

I don't think that the job of the writer is to entertain the audience. I agree that the audience should never be bored! But entertaining the audience and not boring the audience are too different things.

I got up in front of the audience at the Green Mill Tavern in Chicago and I made it clear to them that I wasn't there to entertain them in the classical sense. I was there to shove my material down their throat, whether they liked it or not. And I was there to shove my material down their throat in anyway I saw fit.

Those who were there will never forget my performance. I nearly caused a riot. Certainly, nobody was bored.

Even amongst those who hated it there were people who were glad that I stood up to the audience. The writer/poet should do whatever he wants, and not worry about whether the audience likes it or not.

Creativity and freedom of expression is everything, as well as the right to express it.

You did that for you own expressive purposes but not every artist is working like that. I've already read the reviews of your self-published books - all of which strongly recommend to never waste your money buying them. Now this may not bother you because your aim may be only to publish your work and screw the audience but other artists want to produce work that will reach some portion of the audience at least who will want to see or read more of their work and that cannot be achieved unless some consideration beyond their own freedom and right of expression is given.

[WolfLarsen]

Airport novels reach lots of audience!

McDonald's hamburgers sell by the billions!

Meanwhile, Vincent Van Gogh was thought to be an ignorant painter during his lifetime.

And I can't help but wonder if some of those critics you talk about ever read my books. There are clues that they never did.

But regardless if my writing is good or bad the writer should always do whatever he wants. The writer should not be the servant of the publishing industry or academia or the prestigious/pretentious literary circus establishment, the writer should think of himself as a fountain of creativity.

In the past artists had to serve royalty, then they had to serve the church, and now they serve the bourgeoisie (in order to eat).

To hell with royalty – to hell with the church – and to hell with the bourgeoisie!

Let the artist serve only the creative impulses within his soul.

[hillwalker]

Your repetitive diatribe begs the question - if you're such a radical, self-contained artist WHY do you crave an audience?

H

[MANICHAEAN]

Dear H
Getting away from all this froth for a moment, any chance of you doing an update of last years end of term report for 2012? We all enjoyed it.
Best regards
M

[hillwalker]

Sorry MAN - too much 'real' writing to do over the next eight weeks. Have a strict deadline to meet before the end of February. :toetap05:

H

[MANICHAEAN]

Intriguing.

Do we get to read it?

Best regards for 2013.

M.

[hillwalker]

Intriguing.

Do we get to read it?

Best regards for 2013.

M.

Thanks M - same to you. Do you get to read it? Not until it's on the shelves I hope.

H

[MANICHAEAN]

H
The Kindle Collection blew the gaff. Strange, is it not? I had imagined you as a retired schoolmaster from the valleys, living on a pension; trampling in enforced exile, the Hibernian Highlands, in exile for unmentionable past sins.
Obviously Little Red Riding Hood has not fully comprehended the quality of the shining knights watching over her!
Regards
M.

[hillwalker]

:smile5:

Trampling rather than tramping perhaps.

H