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BLOGMATES
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audentes fortuna juvat: this is how a writer should write..
ABOUT ME:
chalkleight
chalkleight
Los Banos, Laguna, Philippines
usually first impression s'kin mataray,masungit and the likes..uhm,sad to say totoo un kc hndi ako msyadong sociable unless there's something in one person that i really like..sbi ng mga close s'kin good listener dw ako but i think im better in ignoring what they are saying pero when i feel n kylangn mo tlga ng mkikinig sau game ako lalo n kung nkakarelate ako s topic mo..'yoko s mga self-proclaimed..those who say a lot 'bout themselves (who cares 'bout them,anyway?) hehehe..trip ko mga humorous kc moody ako..another thing 'bout me is ung temper ko..uhm,it's always at the edge, u knw what i mean..if u nid 2 knw more basahin mo mga testi s'kin kc im sure they say a lot of things 'bout me.. :]
https://www.blogger.com/profile/15896205344583116855
Thursday, March 06, 2008
this is how a writer should write..
this is how a writer should write..
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. you change direction but the sandstorm chases you. you turn again, but the storm adjusts. over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. why? because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. this storm is you. something inside of you. so all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. there's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. that's the kind of storm you need to imagine.
And you really will have to make it through that violent metaphysical, symbolic storm. no matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it. it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor baldes. people will bleed there, and you will bleed too. hot, red blood. you'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. you won't even be sure in fact, whether the storm is really over. but one thing is certain. when you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. that's wht the storm is all about.
pp. 5-6
A dark omnipresent pool of water.
it was probably always there, hidden away somewhere. but when time comes it silently rushes out, chilling every cell in your body. you drown in that cruel flood, gasping for breath. you cling to a vent near the ceiling, struggling, but the air you manage to breathe is dry and burns your throat. water and thirst, cold and heat -- these supposedly opposite elements combine to assault you.
p. 10
