wound / wound wind / wind

The little silver-rimmed glasses gave him a look of deflected sharpness, as if they were hiding some dishonest plan that would show in his naked eyes. His fingers began to snap nervously and he forgot what he had been going to do. He saw his mother’s face in his, looking at the face in the mirror. He moved back quickly and raised his hand to take off the glasses but the door opened and two more faces floated into his line of vision; one of them said, “Call me Momma now”

The smaller dark one, just under the other, only squinted as if  it were trying to identify an old friend who was going to kill it. 

 - Wise Blood, Flannery O’Connor 

AM:59

Are you growing mistrustful of others? Do you suspect that your wife does not actually have cancer? Is every trip to the mailbox an exercise in loathing and remorse? Are your coworkers having trouble finding anything interesting to say when they talk about you behind your back? Do you deeply despise people who possess many of the same opinions and motives as your own?

 - AM/PM, Amelia Gray

kitchenknivesandcherrybombs asked: are you familiar with Haruki Murakami?

I read Dance, Dance, Dance after willing myself for a long time to get ahold of some of his work, because I’d never seen anyone who’d heard of him do much other than glow at the mention of his name. I think he’s got an interesting style. It’s really easy to read, but sort of warbles between these rare, peaking moments of surprising poignancy - and, subsequently, accuracy - and feeling like he’s pulling the same toy out of a box over and over again and you are, as a reader, being forced to watch him play with it.

I Told My Therapist About You, So I Guess We’re Getting Pretty Serious?

p0megranates:lxxepicxxl:

‘Work is for the boring and luck is for the privileged.’

She said that to me once, on the corner of 76th
and Broadway at a red light in the foggy confines
of my crappy car on a rainy Tuesday. I never really
understood what she meant,
or why I missed her like death.
But she was married now and I was finally ok with that.

(I bet he doesn’t even make you laugh the way I do did.)

I just wished,
for the next girls sake,
she hadn’t left me so jaded.

In the end I guess I can admit
to being guilty for a misdemeanor
or seven;
like always acting so heartless
and cold with the women I’m lying under to,
but every time I’m robbing affections
each and every one of my ex’s drives the getaway car.

It’s not all my fault. It takes two to make an accident
(just ask my parents). But I always get the blame
for other peoples lives sucking -
like Mondays.

But I like x’s; without them it’s just kisses
and I’ll kiss just about anyone.
Like she did when she told me
she wouldn’t go to prom without me
but went anyway behind my back.

Then I hated her all over again. I hated her so much
my eyes zipped to and from the crest of her v-neck blouse
to the smoothe curve of her lips and cheeks,
deviously plotting where I would love her first.
With her black dress laced across her skin, I wondered
if she was born that way: so perfect.

I want to tell her,
but I’m not so good at expressing
myself. Sometimes the words come to me
like lovers:
tenderly with wanting arms and embrace.
Other times I just drink.

“We plunged into the cornucopia, quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice.”

• Blank Notebooks. 
• Clothes appropriate for interviews and/or jobs that pay far better than my current one does. 
• Two bottles of gin.

Adultmas.

Screenwriting Tip #850

raptoravatar:

screenwritingtips:

Every skill, trait or item your protagonist uses to get out of a tight spot should be set up earlier in the script. A hitherto unmentioned ability to speak Latin is just as jarring as a hitherto unmentioned gun.

An astounding amount of a good screenplay is built from retcons that happen before anyone sees it.