Gus, get down with your bad writer self! Way to go!
ION, I drabbled. It's longer than 100 words, and I don't even know if I like it, but here it is:
I'm told that I should want to be a part of your shining golden ranks. So I do, and I cry when you ignore me...but not for long.
I'm told I should be filled with wide-eyed admiration at the Greek letters on your shirt, and that I should offer my body up to you in sheer gratitude that you would choose me. So I do...and I end up watching the clock over your shoulder and wondering when I can go back to my dorm room, my unoccupied bed, and my books.
I'm told to pare down my very flesh in order to lure the pick of the stud farm and make sure he stays by my side. So I try, but I am, it seems, too much to be contained in a tiny frame.
I will never be, never have, never achieve what it is that I'm told I should want, no matter how hard I try. Because, you see, what I want isn't in there. It's out here.
Congratulations, Gus! Be sure to let us know when we can pre-order it and artifically drive up your numbers on Amazon.
Wait. Those Greek dudes back in school were actually having an effect on the prime womens?
t parses
Ok. Not so much.
Anyway. Yes. The cool dudes are out here.
leers, winks
So I try, but I am, it seems, too much to be contained in a tiny frame.
Damned fucking right, yo.
Nothing against the tiny frame - at least half of the people I've loved in this world and currently love are smaller than me - but my 5'9" barely holds what I am, which may be why it keeps breaking.
Sing it, sister. Sing it loud and proud.
Go Gus!
So I try, but I am, it seems, too much to be contained in a tiny frame.
Tep, this is razor sharp. I love this sentence so very much.
The In Crowd
Last time I checked, high school was twenty years behind me. My first PTA meeting proved me wrong.
It was us and them, just like always. A glittering cadre of Jimmy Choos, spray-on tans, and the keys to Escalades hanging from Louis Vuitton key rings on one side of the room. An array of sweatshirt and jeans on the other, complete with grape jelly stains and bags grubby little fingers had groped through searching for lunch money and gum.
Now the cool girls’ badge is running the bake sale and taking playground duty. In crowd by tax bracket never changes.
Heh. Amy, they sound more like Ferragamo or Manolo types than Jimmy Choos.
Since I am now a paid-up member of the writing community, may I now comment on how writers are just like everyone else?
We all lust after StephL, we are all mostly broke, and we all want a good sentence.
Yay, Gus!!! That is so very cool!
