I don't even have time to be here writing but then again, I have been rushed to deploy my feelings to this post as my all time therapy. Pero Dio' Mio! En que maldita cultura vivimos!!!
Ya me tienen hasta ecribiendo blogs en espanglish. : s
The capital sins as you may know are: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. But jeez! Does people really notice when they are wrapped around them. Well, I kind of have my own interpretation of them:
LUST is an important sin that is supposed to be enjoyed instead of condemned, but with whom in hell are we going to get sinful with?(We are all asking ourselves the same question, so don't give me that face as if you're getting some, and if you are I bet it's not from a source of your preference). I'm open to suggestions, 'cause I have come to notice my judgement on people is very poor.
I call GLUTTONY to that necesity to feed yourself off others! as a leach!. Gosh!, mix it with greed and you are giving my worst nightmare. Food? U think this sin is about food? No, eating is healthy, conceptually speaking, is sucking the life out of others by consuming their goods which I find extremely repulsive.
Some of "us" don't even notice when we do it. But I consider gluttony "to feed my needs out of other people's supply"; worst kind of gluttony ever is to solve my life with other people's ambition. Well, fuck you! I'm not been GREEDY! But if somebody takes the time to figure a solution to their needs, why do u suck...up to them? Stop been such a SLOTH, cause for that sin you CAN get punished, remember "Karma is a Bitch". So if you sit down doing nothing, karma will give you...nothing. Go get yourself a better job dude!Make something out of your life, so you won't continue to feel ENVY on those who do work!.
And hey like I said, I'm not been greedy, it's call been protective of my own interests. However it does make me develop a WRATH that won't go away in a while until some people figure out they need to develop some fucking PRIDE...for their own sakes.
Sincerely,
SYNful Ol'me.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
An amateur's attempt to write a suspense story:
I wanted to write a poem in spanish, my mother tongue, but I failed; so I proceeded to use the prose to write about "her" but then I ended up making a story and noticed right in the middle of my writing that I was writing a suspense one. Enjoy it's a little of Edgar (Allan Poe) mixed with Anne (Rice):
" The cuckoo clock shows the 1300 as he likes to call it. The heat is rising. The wood is crackling. The damage of the sun is running it’s course. –“Someday this house will evaporate into smoke” – she thinks.
The landscape is dry. She’s there in the porch, smacking the flies, fighting her angst, sucking in the heat, sitting again in her rocking chair. Even though she is in pain, she made sure she woke up early that morning because she’d like to be there for his welcome.
She cleaned the house well, but for some reason the dust is back. Tom is going to be upset. It must be the hot wind of the desert, pulling it back in, after she brooms it all out. Bored to the bone, she is hating the desert, however, it’s the house he built for her; based on gratitude “she loves it”...He’s running late. Last week, he had left to the city to get provisions and had gotten home two days later.
Drunk and empty handed. He was tough and rough, a country man, yet he liked the pleasures of the filthy city. He hit her too hard that day, but it was her fault, dinner wasn't ready. She fell through the stairs but she's ok now; after seeing her in pain he apologized and cuddled with her. Tom really knows how to make it right in the end. He is good man, just that alcohol brings the worst out of him, like anyone else. He was very upset, said he'd never meant to hurt her.
–“Today he’ll come”- she says, but nobody listens, she’s alone there waiting. She checks on the food, because he doesn’t like his stew too dried.
-"My mother’s recipe must be respected" he has always said. So she has been trying to keep up with the legacy.
She checks out the clock, it’s getting late. She goes back to the cleaning, but there is more dust, the stew looks dry and a stench is coming up. He’s not here yet, but he will be. She is going back to the porch.
-"No matter how much I clean, the dust will keep coming back"- she says to herself.
She is hurting a lot, that fall has affected her motion. Hours keep passing by, and it's getting dark, the stench is becoming painful, after all the dusting the house remains the same. She's tired of waiting for Tom.-"Those women again, the lust and the alcohol!!! The seed of the devil!! Oh Tom, what are you doing to yourself?"- she cries...
He’s drunker than the last time. He falls on the doorstep, and takes another sip of his cheap whisky. He’s crying like a child, yet she stares in fear. She tries to feed herself some courage. She has spent her whole day waiting for him, she has spent her whole life sacrificed for him.
– Oh Tom, why do you keep this up?- She tells him. But he is ignoring her like always. He picks himself up as he can and walks inside the house. She follows him.
–Why do you keep doing this to ourselves?!- she screams.
But Tom is busy trying to stir the dried stew. He continues to sob and cry. He doesn’t even look in her direction. He takes the mop, throws some cleaning liquids on the floor and starts cleaning the bottom of the stairs.
He screams: -“Shut up!, I don’t want to hear you anymore!”.
-“Well, you will have to, for the rest of your life!”- she replies.-“I’m tired Tom, of not been able to keep up to your expectations, tired of cleaning, tired of cooking, tired of waiting for a man I’ve never had to come home!”-
He kneels on the floor. He stares hard at the bottom of the stairs.
-“Stop! Ok. I’m sorry” – he says.-“I never meant to hurt you so bad”.
He stands again, he turns to her, yet he’s not looking at her. He’s looking over her, at the closet, at …the stench. Surprised by knowing the origin of that horrible smell she follows him again as he walks towards the closet door, still crying, still sobbing.
-Just shut up, please!- He screams again. Yet she’s aware she hasn’t talked in a period of minutes.
He finally opens the closet door and sits in the floor. She stares in awe as he hugs a stained duffel bag and whispers: -“I love you dear. I swear I’ll never hurt you anymore. Never again”
THE END"
I hope you enjoyed the twist, if you were of those who thought "she" had killed Tom.
Laterz!
" The cuckoo clock shows the 1300 as he likes to call it. The heat is rising. The wood is crackling. The damage of the sun is running it’s course. –“Someday this house will evaporate into smoke” – she thinks.
The landscape is dry. She’s there in the porch, smacking the flies, fighting her angst, sucking in the heat, sitting again in her rocking chair. Even though she is in pain, she made sure she woke up early that morning because she’d like to be there for his welcome.
She cleaned the house well, but for some reason the dust is back. Tom is going to be upset. It must be the hot wind of the desert, pulling it back in, after she brooms it all out. Bored to the bone, she is hating the desert, however, it’s the house he built for her; based on gratitude “she loves it”...He’s running late. Last week, he had left to the city to get provisions and had gotten home two days later.
Drunk and empty handed. He was tough and rough, a country man, yet he liked the pleasures of the filthy city. He hit her too hard that day, but it was her fault, dinner wasn't ready. She fell through the stairs but she's ok now; after seeing her in pain he apologized and cuddled with her. Tom really knows how to make it right in the end. He is good man, just that alcohol brings the worst out of him, like anyone else. He was very upset, said he'd never meant to hurt her.
–“Today he’ll come”- she says, but nobody listens, she’s alone there waiting. She checks on the food, because he doesn’t like his stew too dried.
-"My mother’s recipe must be respected" he has always said. So she has been trying to keep up with the legacy.
She checks out the clock, it’s getting late. She goes back to the cleaning, but there is more dust, the stew looks dry and a stench is coming up. He’s not here yet, but he will be. She is going back to the porch.
-"No matter how much I clean, the dust will keep coming back"- she says to herself.
She is hurting a lot, that fall has affected her motion. Hours keep passing by, and it's getting dark, the stench is becoming painful, after all the dusting the house remains the same. She's tired of waiting for Tom.-"Those women again, the lust and the alcohol!!! The seed of the devil!! Oh Tom, what are you doing to yourself?"- she cries...
He’s drunker than the last time. He falls on the doorstep, and takes another sip of his cheap whisky. He’s crying like a child, yet she stares in fear. She tries to feed herself some courage. She has spent her whole day waiting for him, she has spent her whole life sacrificed for him.
– Oh Tom, why do you keep this up?- She tells him. But he is ignoring her like always. He picks himself up as he can and walks inside the house. She follows him.
–Why do you keep doing this to ourselves?!- she screams.
But Tom is busy trying to stir the dried stew. He continues to sob and cry. He doesn’t even look in her direction. He takes the mop, throws some cleaning liquids on the floor and starts cleaning the bottom of the stairs.
He screams: -“Shut up!, I don’t want to hear you anymore!”.
-“Well, you will have to, for the rest of your life!”- she replies.-“I’m tired Tom, of not been able to keep up to your expectations, tired of cleaning, tired of cooking, tired of waiting for a man I’ve never had to come home!”-
He kneels on the floor. He stares hard at the bottom of the stairs.
-“Stop! Ok. I’m sorry” – he says.-“I never meant to hurt you so bad”.
He stands again, he turns to her, yet he’s not looking at her. He’s looking over her, at the closet, at …the stench. Surprised by knowing the origin of that horrible smell she follows him again as he walks towards the closet door, still crying, still sobbing.
-Just shut up, please!- He screams again. Yet she’s aware she hasn’t talked in a period of minutes.
He finally opens the closet door and sits in the floor. She stares in awe as he hugs a stained duffel bag and whispers: -“I love you dear. I swear I’ll never hurt you anymore. Never again”
THE END"
I hope you enjoyed the twist, if you were of those who thought "she" had killed Tom.
Laterz!
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