750 Words

[Tiana Calthye]

750words.com is a writing site/blog thing with one goal: to get you to write 750 words a day. For people who need a little bit of psychological kick in the pants to get writing, this will email you once a day at a time you set (if you want it to) and if you don't write, YOU DO NOT GET AN X. You can earn badges for making certain goals. It lacks the external distractions of blogging... it's simple and contained without ads everywhere and unlike a blog, it's private unless you chose to share. Unlike a notepad you can see your word count and it keeps you on a goal if you're the kind of person who needs goals to write.

 

It also has funky statistic things for people who love stats.

 

Here is the stat graph thing for today.

http://750words.com/entries/share/450700

 

I'm just using it as a way to sort of ramble fiction ideas into being.

 

Here's my 750 (actually more like 800) words from today. (I'm using it to write fiction rather than diary or blog.) As you see, it's not all that many words.

 

 

This has been my off key year. I've spent a long time sitting here in this room and listening to the music that insists on filtering through the thin wooden floor, as if it just has to make its way to my ears but not bring anything to me: not words, not freedom, not anything but that little tiny string of inspiration and wanderlust. So I find myself sitting here, trying to ignore the sounds and beats that weave their way up through that vent and into my ears, and into my mind, and into my heart and soul.

 

There's something about the sound of blues that makes me feel a bit uneasy. Something that reminds me of a time that was a long time ago, I suppose. Maybe it was what I used to hear when I was a child or maybe there's something deeper to it or maybe it's just something about that idle freeform chording that drives me batty. I don't know. I've never asked myself why, I just find that whenever I hear those notes weave their way through the air and into my ears I grimace a little bit and wish someone would pull out a piano, maybe; an organ perhaps and play a few hymns.

 

Those also remind me of my childhood, but in a different way. This, I don't know. It's chaotic music, that's the best way to describe it. I've never been able to come up with anything that better explains it than just that sort of chaos, idle and uncontrolled, wandering sounds that idly, idly, ever so idly make their way distorted through the vent and through the air. Hostages of sine waves. Just like I am a hostage of this room. Or some bullshit like that. I can't remember the last time I'd actually seen real sunlight. Only ever moonlight for that hour where I can leave the club and light up a cigarette and inhale the freezing cold air.

 

Escapism is killer. But right now I'd give anything to tame that beast and have a little bit of escapism to call my own instead of just the containment of this room. But that was the terms of the contract, after all. I have to stay here. There's scratches in the wall--freeform blues music of their own accord, just in a more artistic way. I suppose someone would call them art, they are some kind of expression of the human soul, they would say as they looked at the marks, and push their glasses up a little bit higher... a little huff here, and little bit of a frown there. I don't know, I don't think it's art. I think it's just my own inner sort of beast showing up. I won't become an animal, though. I can beat this.

 

Right now I'd give anything for a cigarette, but the room isn't all that well ventilated and anyway, all of the stench of the club below makes its way right along that terribly jarring blues music. I can smell pot, anyway. Damn stuff. Drives me crazy. Sometimes I wish I'd been tagged as a vampire instead of some sort of... well, moonlight. Bullshit, it is, all of it.

 

Right now I'd give anything to see the sun. Pity it'd melt me, just like butter on a hot day; chocolate in someone's pocket; a woman in her man's arms.

 

Right now I'd give anything. Even my soul, if I had one to give. But I lost that a long while ago. Twenty years ago, or something like that. I'd have to count the scratches in the wall to be sure. I didn't bother. I don't need to know. Time doesn't matter. We just say it matters because we want something to focus on, we want something to make ourselves have some kind of purpose in this life. It's all a lot of bullshit, or, I know, lycanthrope shit. Ugh.

 

I don't even know if vampires shit. I've never been able to get close to one to ask.

 

I don't think if I did, I'd ask. I think if I did, I'd probably run like shit instead.

 

My thoughts are freeform, like those blues. I've never been able to contain them. Maybe that's why the music grates on me. Because the music is just as freeform as my thoughts, as chaotic as my thoughts, as lost as my thoughts and as idly as my thoughts. Idly trailing through the landscape that makes my mind my mind.

 

I know this room really I am Grooting well. Every little crack in the wall--maybe not all of the scratches I've made, but I was never so anal retentive to care about counting. But anal retentive enough to have counted every tile on the floor, every tile in the wall, every water stain on the roof. I know every board. I know every scratched bit of graffiti that reminds me that before me, someone was here. Before me someone spent their life here and lived out the rest of their soulless misery, contained to a room where they're forced to listen to the soul of the city and the soul of music.

 

This has been a tuneless year, just like my tuneless life, offkey as that high C.

 

So yeah. I'm not ashamed of showing off my crappy writing. To me it's just a way to sort of randomly burst blots of fiction in a medium with less distractions... no one ever has to see it again, not even me... but maybe I'll come up with a good idea from what I scrawled there. Who knows?

 

If you like having goals to keep you writing, definitely give it a try.

[DarthBrendo]

Thats an interesting website. Have never seen anything quite like it. I'm to lazy mentally to stick with something like that. My plan is to get motivated next year because i'll be in that frame of mind for uni to be writing stuff anyway. I hope so anyway.

[Amidala Skywalker]

That's a neat idea. I used to keep a blog during the year I was in Africa. I really enjoyed it. Even if the entries just told about what I did that day, it was fun. My goal was to update it at least weekly, and I stuck to that goal. It was nice that I knew there were people back home reading it, because that gave me extra incentive to keep updating it.

 

I've considered starting to blog again, but my life is so dull that I don't think I'd have anything to write about! I'm not very introspective, and I rarely have any interesting insights to the world around me. But this site would be very interesting to think about doing.

[DarthBrendo]

I've got a blog I update very occasionally. Usually only when I'm having a pity party Things have been awesome recently so I've not been on there for a while.