Art The Artistry Weekly 17th - 24th: This Week's Subject: SMALL (Read 795 times)

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hi there pals.


this is a little thing i wanted to do here. i know that there are a lot of creative and talented members here at salt world, and i wanted to try and get those creative juices flowing a little bit.


the idea is, each week i'll choose a word, and that word will be the subject for the week. how you interpret that is completely up to you, and what i'd like is for people to contribute pieces of creative writing based on that subject. this can be a short story, a poem, whatever you want. i'm asking that each piece of writing is no more than say, 1,000 words, but this isn't strict, it's just a guideline. of course, you can go under that too.
this is based on what a pal of mine started which i think i linked to before: http://www.wifws.co.uk/ combined with a short lived project of mine that i want to revive some day: http://iftherearewords.tumblr.com/ which i might revive some day.

if you want to contribute a piece of music or some original art based on the subject, a photograph or even a short film or animation, that's fine!


oh, and if you want to contribute more than once, that's fine too.
THE SUBJECT THIS WEEK: SMALL
you can either post your work in this thread, PM it to me, or send it to my email address at [email protected]
note that it is encouraged to post your stuff in this thread anyway so people can see it!


i think that this could work really well, and i hope you do too. you have until Monday, 24th January to submit your stuff, and then i'll pick a new subject. if you have any ideas for a word to be used as a subject, don't hesitate to suggest it!
CONTRIBUTIONS:
a poem by aer
the sad swordsman - dr. ears
small - faust
small talk - biggles

feel free to discuss ideas and whatnot below too!
http://angrygeometry.wordpress.com
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So
Micro-sized
Always
Little,
Lost!
Wyrm  | Madolah | ær 
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Thought I might do a little two-frame comic featuring Sad Swordsman.

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Submitting a POEM. This is the first thing I've written that I've shown to anyone in like seven or so years, so UH OH! I tried to make it a little more humorous than the shit I usually write.


EDIT: Oh turns out that SEVEN YEAR thing was bullshit. I forgot that I read a poem to my peers when we were doing our CELEBRATION after qualifying as teachers. That poem was about a SEAGULL though!


-----


Small


They told me not to worry
I'd grow just like my dad
I'd lead the land of legliness
And scale up like redwood


They said it was a sure thing
- my dad went short when young!
I shackled all my growing shames,
Prayed for my evensong.


At first I was so sated;
It could not be but true!
Then later doubt, reigning as king,
turned Vermillion to Blue.


They lied to me, my parents
To get me to shut up.
To get me to not bother them
With "bullshit growing stuff".


They lied to me, those bastards
My fragile ego tricked,
And here I am at twenty five,
Standing at five foot six!
Hey hey hey
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I don't usually write poems, but I write a lot of raps. This is a poem. It could probably be more on-theme, but fuck it.

Small Talk

Shrunk in the mouthwash, a brook babbling,
barely tall enough to reach the table,
fumbling in footsteps but able to talk
for days,
fake phone conversations and present plays.

It's a small part of us that does it,
folded up in the brain - swaddling clothes.
It colours everything that we perceive,
crayon in nose,
a bridge between breath and what we know.

An organ of supreme perfection, melodic,
neurons like keys like grains of sand,
invisible yet our unmistakable face,
trunk on elephant.
Oak inside the seed. Elegance.

Trees in the mind, dendrites, grammar.
First words, building blocks take root
and later bear fruit and bloom,
words ripe.
The best in life and language is concise.
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the contributions have been great so far! keep them coming! i'm working on something proper myself, will hopefully be finished in the next day or two. good stuff.
http://angrygeometry.wordpress.com
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ive been meaning to write more since my prose is atrocious. unfortunately i have an eye infection thing that means i cant do it this week but this is a good idea and im gonna try to contribute in future!
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Nice poems, everyone!

I really want to submit something by Monday.  It takes me longer to conjure the initial idea than to actually write 1000 words, so this will be on my back burner as I'm out drinking tonight.  I'm thinking already about borrowing the "galaxy is on Orion's belt" talking pug from MIB except there are galaxies in a dude's kidney stones instead of in an amulet.  Nobody steal my idea!
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Small Stones

I feel like the world around me is immovable and unshakable, though at the same time I still realize it is still completely tangible and real. I feel like its too big and too confusing for me to make it move, to understand it, or for me to even matter at all. I feel like the whole of my existence is fully dependent on the flip of a coin, on luck and chance. Yet it seems like everything that happens in my life ties together in some form or another. Not necessarily because of some higher life form or divine spiritual entity, but because of how limited and enclosed my life actually is. Marbles rolling inside of a bowl can't help it if they hit one another occasionally. I feel like my life is the bowl, every person, place, decision, and action in my life are all marbles. And every accomplishment or fuckup that come, do so via collision of those marbles. Its weird how you notice some eerie similarities in your life almost like they're manufactured, but they're not. Atleast I don't think so. I think they're just the different variables in your seemingly small closeted life reacting in a way you wouldn't normally expect because you think the world is too big for such an unlikely thing to happen.
DEUCE: MEETING THE URINE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL AND REALIZING IT'S JUST LIKE ME AND MY PREJUDICES  THIS WHOLE TIME WERE COMPLETELY FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PTTTTHTHTHH GOD IT'S EVERYWHERE<br />DEUCE: FUCK THIS TASTES LIKE PISS<br />PANTS: WHERE IT SHOULD TASTE LIKE COTTON CANDY OR PICKLES<br />DEUCE: OR AT LEAST LIKE URINE NOT PISS
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Small Stones

Thought for a second you were stealing my idea.  Luckily I didn't have to kick your ass!

.

That period is of normal size.  Relative to other standard-sized punctuation, there's nothing small about it!
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hi there pals! if you have any submissions still to come, don't worry, just post them here and i'll include them in the PDF and stuff, but yeah, not long left now! get a move on!!!!!!
http://angrygeometry.wordpress.com
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Instead of doing homework, I've been typing up a story the past hour!  I'm making great sacrifices!
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Here you go, dicko!  I really hate the formatting on here.  I'm going to have to get my own page to display this kind of thing.




THE GALAXIES UNDER RYAN'S BELT


 
   Ryan's doctor at the local hospital looked just like Noam Chomsky, bespectacled and scholarly. He confirmed Ryan's suspicions that his urinary tract was harboring kidney stones.  Ryan took the rest of the week off work, prescription strength Ibuprofen in hand, drinking fluids as recommended.
   Lying in his modest living room, Ryan was immersed in the plush and fading fabric of his couch. Dr. Phil berated a teenage girl on the television set as the Ibuprofen's inevitable drowsiness took hold.  Ryan drifted unconscious, his abdomen finally at ease, and slipped into the strangest dream.
   He was standing on a metal deck plate in front an invisible glass window.  On the other side before him stretched the vast reaches of deep space.  No longer obstructed by gaseous atmosphere, the definition of countless became understood:  more stars than any naked terrestrial eye had ever seen.
   A most chilling signal emanated from the expanse, a sine wave at the lowest registered frequency of human hearing, where one would question whether anything was audible.  Of course, sounds as humans know them do not travel through space.  This was not such a sound, but an otherworldly telepathy that Ryan would never comprehend.
   The weird tone undulated into a deep superhuman voice, authoritative yet calm and inviting. Soaring from some twisted and remote corner of the universe, it addressed Ryan, “The time of my children has come at last.  With their conception, the time of deliverance is nigh.”
   Ryan woke to the sound of a frantic scratching on the back door and a muffled canine whimper.  He lifted his head from its resting place and the scrunching of his torso triggered sharp pain.  The stones were advancing, traveling delicate pipes never designed to accommodate any solid object.
   Ryan slowly tried a second time to stand, laboriously and with great discomfort.  He limped to the back door and pulled it open a crack.  A flat dark snout sniffed rapidly through the crack before a pug's wrinkled head pushed the door open eagerly and the ugly little dog forced its way in.
   “Whose freaking dog is this?” demanded Ryan.  “Get out of my house, dog!”  Briefly he watched the dog trot, sniff, and snort around the living room.  Ryan slammed shut the door and resigned again to the couch.  He was in no condition to chase animals.  Someone would come looking for this nuisance.
   He better not pee in here, Ryan thought as he closed his eyes, and listened to the intruder crunch down a half dorito from the floor.
   “Mmmmm. You got anymore of those?” said a gravelly voice.
   Ryan flinched and nearly fell from his perch, clutching his waist from the resulting twinge of pain.  Stiff and silent with fear, Ryan looked on wide-eyed at the animal, then all around the room.  The pug licked crumbs from its lips with a pink tongue.
   “What's wrong, Ryan?” 
   This time Ryan definitely witnessed the dog speak, and it was looking right up at him with bulbous eyes.
   “You're a talking dog!” Ryan exclaimed.
   “That's what I appear to be, Ryan,” the pug said, “but in all honesty, I'm not a dog, I'm a visitor.”
   Its voice sounded like a gruff but friendly Danny DeVito, pretty much exactly what one would imagine a talking pug to sound like.
   “I'm Rossi, ambassador for The Enlightened One.  I've come to see you, Ryan, because you are very important to The Enlightened One.”  The pug shook its curl of a tail vigorously.
   “The one from my dream?” asked Ryan.
   “It's likely he has contacted you.”
   “Well, what does he want?”
   Rossi leaped onto the coffee table, “You possess important new galaxies, The Enlightened One's new 'children', if you will.”
   “Galaxies? I thought galaxies were millions of stars and planets, enormous!”
   “You humans!  When will you learn that size doesn't matter?  A galaxy can be very small.”
   “How small?”
   “The size of a pebble, or a kidney stone.”
   Ryan clenched his abdomen, “Are you saying that my--”
   “Yes, I am.  Those stones contain star systems on a scale microscopic to humans.  You were chosen to produce the seed of a future civilization.  These galaxies, once delivered to their intended location in the universe, will be home to advanced culture and technology.  I think the time of their deliverance is nigh.  Do you feel it?”
   Ryan did feel it.  Doubling over, he felt that he might give birth to a thousand daggers.   
   “Go into your bathroom, but don't urinate yet, Ryan!” said the pug.
   Ryan shuffled bent over, all the way down the hall, and next to his toilet, feeling needles in his urethra.  He was unbuttoning and unzipping when Rossi scampered in with a fine sift from the kitchen.
   “Here, pee into this, Ryan!” 
   Ryan held the culinary tool in one hand, and his member with the other, groaning violently and trying to push urine with all his might. Rossi sat, watching curiously, and awaiting the crucial moment he had crossed the universe for.  The excruciating pain traveled down to Ryan's penis now, and he felt that it all just might explode into pieces.
   Suddenly, an irregular stream burst forth, and three small stones clinked into the sift in rapid succession, and golden urine passed easily through the sift into toilet water.  Ryan's urethra was relieved of the weight of a thousand worlds.  He held the sift up to eye level when he finished.
   “So that's it, eh?” he asked, looking at three tiny off-white pebbles. Five of them could rest on a dime.  “All that trouble for something so small.”
   “Let me see!” said Rossi, balancing on hind legs excitedly.
   Ryan knelt down and put the sift under Rossi's nose.   
   “They're exactly as The Enlightened One explained!  I can't believe I witnessed this!  To think, the genesis of a future civilization. Here, Ryan, I need you to put them in here.”
   The dog rolled over on its back and Ryan noticed a small vial on his collar, which he detached from a clip.  Using bathroom tweezers, he carefully transferred the stones, and the untold worlds within them, to the vial.
   Later, with the stones in tow, Rossi parted ways with Ryan in the backyard, new founder of species and infinitesimal cosmos he will never see.
   “Will I ever see you again, Rossi?” asked Ryan, shielding his eyes from the bright sun.
   “I can't say,” said Rossi, “but if I'm ever in the neighborhood...”
   Rossi's canine form had already begun to dematerialize before Ryan.  A light of great magnitude erupted from the dog's body, and Ryan was unable to see the material and very being of this extraterrestrial shoot out of the atmosphere and across the universe.

 
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  • Avatar of Evangel
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whre my pdf dicko!
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whre my pdf dicko!
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ha, sorry, i'll get the pdf's made sometime over the weekend, pretty busy, so many birthdays etc.

NOW GET CONTRIBUTING IN THE NEXT ONE!
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