Liam's Literary Lair's Journal (original) (raw)

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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded inLiam's Literary Lair's LiveJournal:

Wednesday, March 9th, 2011
_3:57 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	he He makes no mistakes, they say. He is love and He loves you. They say He is flawless, and He has a reason for everything and a plan for everyone, and He loves every one of us. he is a child, building clumsy figures of grass and mud, misshapen, mistaken, hideous creatures capable of committing horrific acts and full of rage and hate. he is a child, burning ants with a magnifying glass, and finding much glee in our cries. (Comment on this)
Friday, February 11th, 2011
_5:16 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	SOME POEMS( Four Short Poems Collapse ) (Comment on this)
Thursday, February 3rd, 2011
_11:01 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	( Flash Fiction: Reconciliation Collapse ) (Comment on this)
Thursday, November 11th, 2010
_12:15 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	NaNoWriMo Excerpt ( Baaaaarf. Gay fluff.Collapse ) (1 Comment \|Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 10th, 2010
_4:14 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	NaNoWriMo Excerpt I steer the shopping cart down the frigid Pizza-Beer-TV Dinners and Wine-Liquor-Liquor-Liquor aisle. Everything a bachelor could need on a lonely Friday night, except maybe the unscented lotion and tissues; god, I'm a fucking pervert.I grab five pizzas; there are a lot of lonely Friday nights in my immediate future.Almost by instinct, I reach out and wrap my hand around the squarish body of a bottle of Johnny Walker Black - and I freeze; I panic, I don't know what to do, what I want, what I should want. I think of the people who will be upset by the wrong choice - mother, shrink (Call him George; you trust George), perhaps I will get a reproachful look from my cat Mr. Stevens. I personally will not be upset, because I personally will be in an inebriated state.My fingers twitch, tip the bottle towards me, like fucking gravity, like the strongest magnetic attraction, that bottle wants to be in my shopping cart next to the frozen cardboardy pizzas and quart of milk. Oh god, it's begging.I was never one to toss a coin into the beggars' cups. Sorry, Johnny. (1 Comment \|Comment on this)
Sunday, November 7th, 2010
_5:13 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	Autumn; Florida The first day of autumn passes in a haze of heat waves on the asphaltAnd none of the palm fronds blaze fiery red or bright yellow -The only thing on fire is the humid air, heavy and sticky like napalm. (2 Comments \|Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010
_5:14 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	NaNoWriMo Excerpt ( Excerpt, Writing Journal of Patrick Lee Franklin - June 2011 Collapse )The basic premise of my ~~novel~~: A semi-jumbled timeline of four to six years of Patrick Franklin's life, starting from the day before he moves to college. Since I love my angst, I'm going to drag this kid through dirt and rusty nails. But I think I'll attempt a moderately happy ending, for some of the main characters at least (there are three or four MCs). There'll be sexual identity crises, drug and alcohol abuse and addiction, physical confrontations, shame and disappointment. IT SHOULD BE FUN, YES? (Comment on this)
Thursday, October 28th, 2010
_6:50 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	Flash fiction, ~800 words ( The Only Thing Collapse )Wow, it feels awesome to actually finish something after so many months of writing useless scraps and poems. Even if it is rather shoddy writing and only 800 words. (Comment on this)
Saturday, October 23rd, 2010
_5:10 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	( Reminiscences Collapse )NOTE: This is 100% fiction. (Comment on this)
_4:51 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	( Warnings Collapse ) (Comment on this)
_4:41 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	( Untitled Prose Collapse ) (1 Comment \|Comment on this)
_4:35 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	HI GUISE IT'S BEEN AGES RIGHT.( Have some prose.Collapse ) (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 25th, 2009
_7:17 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	Here I’m starin’at the ceiling and it’s doin’that spinny thing, makin’me all nauseous and dazed.I got headphones in my ears,blaring the not-quite-soothingvoices of gravely-voiced menwith shattered heartsand scruffy jaws.I’m tryin’ not to relate,‘cause what do I know about anything?just a kid, I ain’t seen a thing;my pain can’t possibly compareto anything in the grand,big old scheme of things.I’m trying, but I’m failing, and I don’t give a damn;I feel like I’ve been ripped apartand thrown in the dust.I feel like these guys whose gruff voices and whiskey-roughwords can give me a cure,or alleviate my pain just for a while.And the ceiling’s spinning in time with my headand the music’s pulsing in time with my heart,and all I want is peace and sleep I don’t want this hurt, this feeling like I’m being crushed, over and overand I just don’t know whyI sat at a bar all night with my whiskey and my smoke all in a cloud around meI turned into a cliché because of youand I hope you’re damn pleased, you got that damn smug grin on yourbeautiful flawless face, ‘cause you destroyed me, just a “goodbye” note on my table and I died right there. Now my ceiling’s spinnin’ pirouettesand I’m feelin’ kind of nauseous,but I close my eyes and try real hardto make your face, the smug fuckin’ grinleave my mind, get the hell out of my life.But I drift off to sleep and those wordsfrom a man with a heart just as woundedas mine float up to my mind,and he’s tellin’ me it’s no use; you got me,left your scars all over my soul. (1 Comment \|Comment on this)
_4:11 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	For a long time, girl, I couldn’t stand to see your face;just thinking about youmade me hurt so much inside.I went and saw a therapist;she told me it took time. I take my pills and count the days,but my insides feel like ice.I stood in the rain the other dayand looked up at the sky;it was flat and grey, and it all poured down on me.That day you left me on my own, there was a thunderstorm,the sort we used to watch,arm-in-arm, safe on the balcony.I looked up that day, staredat the sky til the rain blurred my eyes.I stood there for hours,and I think I drowned that day.So I walk like a zombie now,like a soulless voodoo monster,and I take my pills and I pay my billsand I don’t have to worry any more. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 14th, 2009
_8:12 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	You’re digging your own grave,they say, they beg, they careabout me and my well-being,success and good health, to be loved by another and love inreturn; that’s all they want for me.You sound so sad, my mother saidto me on the phone. I forced a smileinto my voice and then I was fine, just wiped out from my full life.I sound so sad; they give mepills and I try, try try to be happy. but to tell the truth, I’m perfectly fine,content and pleased with my life,just sitting at the bottom of an economy-sizedbottle of whiskey. (1 Comment \|Comment on this)
_3:40 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	I’m sifting through old photographs,picking out the ones of you, paper creased and worn with age.your golden hair and emerald eyesshining bright in frames of your youth.As the world turns, the photos becomeyounger; their subjects grow weary.You cut your hair close to your neck,and the glint in your eye has gone;your posture is poor, bent with yearsof dreary life and failed attemptsto find the dream you had as a girl.The Earth turns, turns, and years pass;your golden hair is streaked with gray.Empty smiles don’t reach your eyes;the dark circles beneath tell of sleepless nights spent pondering how you cameto be this way; searching desperatelyfor an answer at the bottom of a glass.I drop these memories into a boxand the last thing I see before shuttingthe lid is the sad shell of a mother,and her emerald eyes staring back at me.I shove the box onto a cluttered shelf, and will it out of my life, out of my mind.Slam the door shut and trudge down the stairs to the rooms where she held me,read me stories and stared blanklyat the walls in catatonic depression.I close my eyes against the memoryand open a cabinet to pour myselfa copious amount of whiskey,just the first glass of many tonight. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 13th, 2009
_1:19 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	I think through the hazethat one more shot will surely get me there-to the place where painis a meaningless word,and everything feelsas if it belongs.It never changes, never fades.Just one more will take me to a place where I don’t care,and I don’t need to care,because I feel nothing,nothing is there.Someone told me I should resistthe urge to down that one shot,I should resist the temptationto go to that placewhere nothing mattersand nothing hurts.I can take the pain now, if I can have the numbness later. I can stand the looks of shame and second-handembarrassment for me,if I can just experience this for a few blissful hours.I’m ignoring you now, and downing a shot of firethat’ll take me to that place where nothing mattersand I don’t need to care. (Comment on this)
_12:21 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	kinda like this one, for once. You were the calm before the storm,the peaceful breeze that told of rainand wind and fierce thundering rage.The peaceful notes of a tragic opera preceding the climactic death of a hero.You tiptoed gently into my life, and when you left in a whirlwind, everything scattered; I’m lost in debris.And as I try to put together remnantsof a life I used to have, I can’t helpmyself, and I wish you were back,an innocent warning of things to come,the quake that will destroy what littleI’ve managed to glue back together. I am a storm chaser, my darling,and you just might be the onethat gets me, the one I can’t outrun.You’re deadly, and yet I find myselfdrawn to you, dark roiling cloudsand chaotic streaks of electricity,a deadly beauty drawing me in.As I shove these thoughts out of my mind, I think I feela gentle summer breeze, warmand comforting, but an edge is hidden, and it bites at my heart,and I am reminded of you, andthough it hurts me so, I have to smile. (Comment on this)
Monday, January 12th, 2009
_3:32 pm_[mr_liam_to_you]	I lay on wet asphalt with the rain pelting and stinging. the furious grey clouds before me mock and taunt, thunderous laughter at my plight.My hand rests on my chest,covering the gaping holeyou left when you said goodbye. I gasp for breath with burning lungs;tears mix with rain on this road.Things are muted and blurred;I can’t tell what’s realand what my mind wishes was true.I thought I saw you standing on a street cornerwhere we waited for a busso many months ago.I raised my hand in greetingand you disappeared like a memory, programmed by my mindto fade away with time.And you’re fading awaylike mist in the morningand snow in the spring.You’re leaving my lifeand I’m finding myself. (Comment on this)
_8:50 am_[mr_liam_to_you]	Slamming coffee at five AM,fresh pack of cigarettes half gonealready, and you’re wired and electrified and you’ve got to get out,you’ve got to do something.The pencil in your hand is frantic.Catch a glance of a haggard face,dark pits beneath their eyes, two days’worth of facial scruff and the mostunruly, disorganized hair you’ve seen.and you realize you’re staring at a mirror.Ignore the face and concentrate on NOW,this coffee, this cigarette, this paperyou’re furiously scribbling on,and what the fuck is this garbage?Crumble it up and throw it on the faux leather of the diner booth. The sun’s rising outside the windowand the rays shine in your groggy eyes; you squint and hunch over like a cave-dwelling hermit,and you take another gulp of coffee.With the rising of the sun, you pick up the battered book ofworthless words, and pay your bill.Your feet drag you home of their own accord, and you go along, pay no attention to the world.There is more to life than being a tortured, neurotic writerwasting away in diners and bars. (Comment on this)

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