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Pietro
April 27th, 2014, 12:53 AM
When was the last time you wandered aimlessly, or have you ever? Time has not been bountiful enough lately and I rarely have the occasion to step outside anymore, with only my head on my feet, and set off without destination. But, from time to time, I still manage to open my black notebook on a new blank page and start writing without destination. I am now setting off from my front yard in the village; the sky is lovely black and the moon does not exist yet. A subtle cool breeze is discretely stalking me; I can feel it on my neck every now and then. Trees and plants are flaunting their buds up, each sending a different smell of seduction in the air with a fervent desire for mating. Spring is primitive eroticism. Mingled sounds from windows tell different stories, of a man still diseased with pride who listens to political talk-shows, of a jealous Lebanese housewife, of parents disciplining their son about social correctness, and other different paths I will not take tonight. So I hush them all with the volume of my radio, take Ludwig van Beethoven and his piano sonatas along for tonight's journey and we share some drams of heavily peated single malt scotch whisky sent by my fairy friends in Islay.


I start by looking for my dragon egg. My passion for dragons always takes me towards this path at first. I find discussing the truth that they once existed most absurd as they constantly exhibit their grandeur in different mythologies from every corner of the Earth. Nevertheless, finding the one surviving dragon egg so I can help it hatch is an endeavor I have repeatedly attempted and failed. I am not one who gives up however, and I am sure I am the one destined to find it. Once I do, I will need hills of gold to create an adequate nest. This will not be a problem as I already know an alchemist; he is currently preoccupied by the distillation of panaceum. Once I find the egg, I know I can convince him to turn the rusted metal of the last century to gold so we can help my dragon hatch his egg-shell. No, I am not being delirious nor pretentious, not the least more than that man who thinks he understands regional politics. Now the whereabouts of that egg are still a mystery but I am sure a little candid shepherd's son will stray one day from the herd and find it. I don't think it will be tonight; I might as well try another path.


Vanille and Cannelle are twin sisters. They may be my daughters or my lovers; I am still undecided. Vanille has fair blond hair made into a single braid, held at its end by a white ribbon, grey eyes and plenty of freckles on her white skin. Cannelle has her long dark brown hair always undone, sometimes covering her shiny brown face and wild hazel eyes. I love them when they play their music, Vanille on her flute and Cannelle on her violin, with Stravinskyish natural dissonance. Cannelle is easily aroused and highly emotional with her large, rebellious, and dominating voice and Vanille manipulates her with calm sweetness. But they love each other - maybe too much - and one day they will discover they have supernatural powers, or maybe go into a stormy emotional turmoil; I am still undecided, I only know they will not turn into jealous Lebanese housewives. I will not decide tonight. I might as well try another path.


I am an apprentice in cardiothoracic surgery. It is like plumbery, but magical: I get to contain life in a circuit of pipes hooked to a pump that I watch beating every day. I am being initiated to the art by a great wizard who has as many scars of experience on his face as the number of incisions he has made. He has achieved mastery in the matters of the heart and I am passionately watching and repeating his every spell. At nights when I am on watch, I stand outside the hospital overlooking the whole city, waiting for the siren to break the silence. I do not sleep; I lurk for an agonizing heart or a thirsty limb and I will never be satisfied before acquiring the ability to make blood gush out of stone. So for now I lurk with sparkling eyes and sharp teeth. This is a very delicate and devious subject, but come to think about it, my parents didn't burden me with too many chains of social correctness. However, it might make you desire being my patient, or horribly dread it. And since I have to make a living eventually, I will not delve deeper into it tonight. I might as well try another path.


Or maybe I will take the way back. The cool breeze that was merely stalking me has turned into a cold wind that is gripping me by the bones, I have ran out of whisky and Ludwig's fingers are weary on the piano. The neighbours' windows are silent now and nature's erotic play has turned into an act of predator and prey. No path has led us anywhere tonight but I had no destination in mind anyway. It was a nice stroll and I cherish your company as much as I do Ludwig's. I will go to bed now, I might as well try that path.


Pietro Kheir
27 04 2014 (tel:27 04 2014)

oggmeister
July 16th, 2014, 02:45 PM
There's a nice pace to this story that makes it easy to read. The choice of topics are interesting and varied, and the ending ties it up nicely. But I was expecting more as I read through it - some connective tissue among the three potential paths that you describe. If it's there, it's not entirely obvious so my suggestion would be to either to bring it out or if it isn't there, I would consider having something beyond "I might as well try another path" statement to tie them together. As it reads, it feels a bit too random and therefore less satisfying to the reader.
-Og

Pietro
July 16th, 2014, 04:04 PM
Og,
Thank you for your comment. This is an experimental piece I wrote at the pace of my thoughts and only slightly edited. It is, as it clearly states, just an account of random thoughts. I just thought it would be interesting to post it here.

Mickd
July 18th, 2014, 02:13 AM
I really liked your descriptions in this passage.


Vanille and Cannelle are twin sisters. They may be my daughters or my lovers; I am still undecided. Vanille has fair blond hair made into a single braid, held at its end by a white ribbon, grey eyes and plenty of freckles on her white skin. Cannelle has her long dark brown hair always undone, sometimes covering her shiny brown face and wild hazel eyes. I love them when they play their music, Vanille on her flute and Cannelle on her violin, with Stravinskyish natural dissonance. Cannelle is easily aroused and highly emotional with her large, rebellious, and dominating voice and Vanille manipulates her with calm sweetness. But they love each other - maybe too much - and one day they will discover they have supernatural powers, or maybe go into a stormy emotional turmoil; I am still undecided, I only know they will not turn into jealous Lebanese housewives. I will not decide tonight. I might as well try another path.

mstachowsky
July 18th, 2014, 05:58 PM
I love your descriptions. Very lyrical and magical. If this was an experimental piece, what was the experiment?

Pietro
July 20th, 2014, 11:08 AM
I am glad you guys enjoyed the read.
mstachowsky the experiment was to write down any random thought I have without having an ending, storyline, or endpoint in mind. When I was writing each paragraph, I still had no idea what the next paragraph be about. I wrote the whole thing at the speed of my thoughts (with very bad handwriting I must add), it took less than 20 minutes. Then I only very lightly edited it.

LeeC
July 21st, 2014, 01:12 AM
There's a writing exercise, no doubt you're aware, where one sets a specific time limit with a break halfway through, and writes down everything that comes to mind. Then sorts it all out to see if there're any thoughts worth mining. A variation being focusing on a specific matter. I did the latter in writing one of my sketches.

Whether consciously executing this exercise or not, you seem to have settled on an observation theme, and tied the thoughts together as the paths your mind took you. That you "only very lightly edited it" [the words "only" and "very" aren't both needed, being superfluous together] shows a conscious structuring of the train of your thoughts, with the details left to chance, at least to me. It also shows you have a more ordered mind than mine :-)

From the gist and mood of your thoughts, I'd guess you were listening to Beethoven's middle period pieces like Symphony No. 6 (the Pastoral Symphony), though as you say piano sonatas.

Well done I'd say, and as I've mentioned to you before, don't lose that innocence of English that has an endearing style.

Only one small nit:


so we can help my dragon hatch his egg-shell
maybe should be "so we can help my dragon hatch from his egg-shell" or "so we can help my dragon hatch out" or "so we can help my dragon emerge from his egg-shell"

Write on,
LeeC

Pietro
July 23rd, 2014, 09:53 PM
I was listening to the Sonata 14, then I shuffled a playlist that contains all Ludwig's piano sonatas. Thank for pointing out "hatching the egg-shell". I will correct it, keeping it as simple as possible "hatch from his egg-shell."

Ride the Pen
July 27th, 2014, 04:20 PM
I suppose this is a complete piece.

I like the mood and the "frame story" (first and last paragraph). The rhythm of your language and the vocabulary fits the mood very well and it also has a couple of phrases and ideas that I really dig ("It is like plumbery, but magical: I get to contain life in a circuit of pipes hooked to a pump that I watch beating every day."; "Spring is primitive eroticism.").

The three parts in the middle don't work for me, for the simple reason that they are not interesting enough on their own and not well enough connected to the frame (both of which essentially means the same thing). When you start the second paragraph, things get a bit confusing, same (to a lesser degree) when you start the third paragraph. When reading, I was wondering about the connections (plot-connections or at least thought-connections), and that threw me out of the flow for a bit.

Of those three middle pieces, I liked the last one best, because it makes for a nice analogy! The other two do nothing for me.

But props for the mood you are creating!

Hope this helps.

PS: I wrote this before looking at any of the answers in this thread as to not be influenced - IMO that's the only way of being able to write an honest critique!

Dr. Garp
August 8th, 2014, 02:27 AM
So the opening to this is amazing and sucked me in.. you're a writer and you're about to begin a journey to find a path suitable to express your imaginative writing skills or expression. Which sets up the story to have two characters, or points of view. The view of the man writing, and the view of the man within the writing. You wrap this paragraph up nicely and prepare the reader for your journey by coming out of your black note book (and the wonderful sights, sounds, and smells it had to offer) to the sounds of Ludwig and the taste of scotch.

I got confused when reading about the dragon egg. The man searching for the path he wants to take, and the man that wants to find a dragon egg seem to be the same person. When in the first paragraph the man that goes into his black notebook is clearly different from the man outside of it. The man IN the notebook tells a very interesting story. While the man writing in the notebook is sharing his thoughts and giving updates on where his path is going. I'd expand and focus on the man in the notebook more, because when you did it here with the dragon egg it is very nicely done. I think you can separate the two easily here by simply omitting a sentence or two. The sentence about regional politics really stands out as being outside of the story, not just the writer writing and finding his path.. but you the writer coming out of both notebooks to make a comment. Maybe try to tweak the first two sentences possibly to get the reader into the writers world where his character is trying to find a dragon egg. I'd just change how you say it. "My passion for dragons has led me on an adventure to search for a dragon egg."

In the paragraph with the two girls there only seems to be one point of view and that is the writer. I don't see the man in the story/notebook at all here.

The cardiothoracic surgery is written by the writer once again but he only seems to touch on the idea of jumping into this story. Which I think if he did it would be interesting. The ideas and details given by the writer here are nice.

I think you have something creative here, it is almost perfectly executed in the first paragraph but the others need work. I'd be ecstatic if I were in your shoes to have written that first paragraph.