2006.06.19
Writing of a Previous Moment
Sam's days were full of wonder. There was not a day that went by without an angel. After a while, they seemed quite ordinary.I dug it up and read it to Ksenia (who's name is almost suspiciously like that of one of the characters) the other night after re-watching one of her favorite videos "City of Angels". I decided to transcribe it yesterday.
He hardly ever saw the angels when he was at work. He speculated that there might be something about retail clothing and the divine that just couldn't chime. But walking to or from the bust stop, or at home, there the surface of reality would sometimes twist, like the peel of an orange.
Angels came in all builds. Skinny ones, fat ones, lanky ones, tiny ones, muscular ones, grandmotherly ones, but always with a weird shimmmer-glow. And they were often wrestling with demons, ugly red and black and green monsters that reeked of sewage and ammonia. Sometimes the angel would win, sometimes the demon.
Every once in a while I think I should try to really get my prose mojo working again. The trouble is I don't feel like I have a story I just Gotta Write, and then I'm painfully aware of how almost any detail I put in a story is something from life, that I can't make up details (or, generally, even themes and plots) without cribbing from real life or other works.
Birthday of the Moment
Huh, Slate is 10 years old! EB thinks it's all consumer-y and lacks Salon's moral backbone, but...it doesn't have annoying interstitials, and seems to have a high ratio of interesting content, which is index'd in a very good "at a glance" manner.