Illustrations Of Insanity - Writers Forum

Jp · 04-19-2005, 06:15 AM

------------------------------Illustrations of Insanity
------------------------------------------By
----------------------------------------J.P.V.

------When I was child, knee high to a grass hopper, one thing was certain,
that I’d never grow up. Can you see? The grown-ups cannot see, or at
least, they chose not to look. They’ll never look at what I saw, nor have
they ever seen what I’ve come to believe. So without further ado, i’ll paint
you a picture that is plastered, and colored in all shapes and hues.

------My morning had occurred much like any other. I was rudely
awakened by an alarm clock; I had chose to set the night before. Every
morning I awake from the squander of my sleep. Each days events follow
like some transcendental truth. Life can seem bad at times, but I’ve
learned to trust my bed. She’ll never let me down! Elianora is a kind
tempurpedic kind of woman. O’ how I love Elianora, but she doesn’t help
me wake. The alarm clock does the dirty work, and for that, he goes
without a name. For you see, he does not care, that everyday is the same.
------Elianora provides the stark contrast to my nights. She fills them with
indifferent characters, ever changing plots, and a myriad of rarely spoken
words. It is a wonderland that’s filled with faces I don't know. However,
the moral always hits close to home.

------Eventually, as with all things, Elianora had to let go.

------After a brief moment spent tripping over random objects my feet
woke up, although, they had done so a moment to late. My left foot had
hooked itself under the kitchen tables leg. Two seconds later I found my
face upon the floor. I got up and found that I’d lost a sock, which caused a
string of off color comments to fly out of my mouth. I was stammering;
fro-and-to, back and forth, forth and back, to-and fro, but sooner or later I
made it to the coffee maker. (Im still not sure when), but at any rate, I
did.
------I looked down, or rather, I could finally see. To my disbelief I had
found the coffee grounds. They were not in the can. I guess, I scooped
them into the carafe. Who knows! After all, my head was still spinning
from the night before.
------Mercilessly the smoke from my cigarette twirled towards my right
eye. The slam of the door alerted me back to the lights. My Elianora was
standing in the hall. My alarm clock, a pirate’s parrot, was siting on her
shoulder. She briefly gave me a “come hither” sex look, and went back
into the bed room. But I had decided she could wait.

------The brewing coffee beckoned me back. All the coffee mugs were full
of bugs, but not one you can see.

------We’ve not taken to cleaning house, because you see, chores were
never our forte. She’ll do a lot of thing, but Elianora prefers me over the
dishes. (That is, if they get done at all.)

------The coffee tasted like hot oil, and the thought of water made my teeth
hurt. Although, not as much as our upstairs neighbors. They like to play
music (really loud), but not just any music, they like classical techno.
Today's mix, that blared from above, was none other than Ludvig Von
himself. It was an atrocious mix of beethoven’s 9th. There was what
seemed to be ‘a size able opera singer’ screaming over the notes. After
awhile It made me wish that something terrible would happen to make it
stop. The kind of thing that you could barley imagine in a nightmare. But
any thing would of done.
------Slowly and steadily the teapot grew into a hookah, as the quality of
the music continued to deteriorate. I drifted father away from my
acoustically challenged safe haven with each Snowcapped hit. The sizable
woman started to talk in a strange tongue. It was a series of clicks, that
was followed by a number of strange sounds. I could not fathom what she
might have been talking about, so decided to take her out. And not for bite,
she look like she had eaten her way here.

To be continued...

Chris Miller · 04-19-2005, 09:53 AM

This is a confusing piece. While the style is interesting and feels literary, content is lacking. I am not too embarassed to say that I couldn't determine what it was about. And, by the end, I didn't really care. Your character(s) fail to come across except as perhaps kind of stoned. Also confusing were the great number of grammatical errors, in strange juxtaposition to the otherwise careful writing style.

I would say, read this over carefully when the effects of the hookah have worn off. It was especially frustrating because you seem to have talent as a writer.

Pawn · 04-19-2005, 10:11 AM

Interesting. I couldn't help but find allusions to 'A Clockwork Orange' within this piece: notably in the invented word 'tempurpedic' and the phrasing of Beethoven as 'Ludvig Von himself'.

Unfortunately, this piece fails outright success in two distinct manners. First, as pointed out above, the often peculiar and frequently incorrect grammar makes life difficult for us as readers. If this is a stylistic choice then you need to further remove your style from common dialect in order to make this choice not only clearly apparent, but effective.

Secondly, your character is not sufficiently developed by the clues you give us. Our perceptions are varied to the point of being inconclusive.

I await further developments...

snuffypuffer · 04-19-2005, 10:52 PM

'Tempurpedic' is a type of bed supposed to be more comfortable than the average bed. It's marketed late at night to insomniacs and to geriatrics during the day. I know this because I have a strange work schedule.

Anyhow, aside from what everyone else said, you give me no reason to care about these characters one way or another. Who is the narrator, and why should I care about what's going on at this point in his life? What, exactly is his relationship with Eleiniora? What in the name of god does the opening paragraph have to do with the rest of the story? You lose the reader right away. Not a good thing.

dannyboy · 04-20-2005, 01:18 AM

That's the thing. I don't care about the characters and if I don't care I quickly lose interest. One of the tricks (though like all tricks not always) to a short story is to make the reader care quickly.

Jp · 04-22-2005, 01:28 AM

-------Well, It has been a while since I was on the forum. I wrote this story quite quickly; still, it could be revised and made into “good writing.” But It was wrote as way to take my mind off what I was doing. You see. I have been writing a novel; consequently, driving myself mad. The story became a way to escape from the riggers of the novel, and write something weird. My style, or the style it was written in, is what I am calling “delusionary.” Or as it has been referred to in some more serious stories, “illusionary,” but I prefer delusionary. My reference to Elianora being a Tempurpedic ‘bed’ was meant to show how she like a bed... (A kind of metaphor.) All of the comments, given how this peace is, have been kind. Thank you all, I am just wondering does anyone care for the notion of relating a bed to a person, as in the sense, that they are lazy and sleep all the time?

dannyboy · 04-22-2005, 01:57 AM

doesn't work for me 'cos I connect beds with a lot of activity (oops).... so i was thinking either a) she's sexy or b) she fixes his back - 'cos of a....