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Just one day left to send us your slice of weirdness! I'm working on my desperate and pathetically last-minute entry--how about you?
Just under one week left to get those entries in! We've only had two so far, so all you people who favourited and shared and rhapsodized about how goddamn awesome it was we were back, get your arses into gear!
Just under one week left to get those entries in! We've only had two so far, so all you people who favourited and shared and rhapsodized about how goddamn awesome it was we were back, get your arses into gear!
Yes, it's us again. We reincarnate more often than Kenny.
This time is going to be different, though. And you can trust me on that, because it's not me who'll be ensuring it. fyoot, a long-time contributor and judge for transliterations and someone whom I'm sure you all know if only by reputation, is stepping into the breach and making sure this dead horse keeps getting whipped. The one major change you should be aware of is that prompts will now go up on the 15th of each month and end on the 10th. Of course, this ending date is purely arbitrary and only influences who gets into the news feature; you can continue to submit whenever you want. We'll also be introducing a new category into our prompt cycle, but you'll find out more about that a little later on. And these changes pale in comparison to the fact that things will actually be happening.
She's a good influence on me, you see. She's the rod up my arse that keeps the clockwork turning.
On that note: Prompt Exercise No. 14!
Take a good look at these photos. A good, hard, throbbing looks at these photos. We've selected twelve unlikely scenes and scenarios for you, each with its own quirks and charm. What you have to do is choose two of these photos and translate the space between them.
What I mean by that is that this time, rather than translating the contents of a photo or painting or whatever madness we fling at you, you have to take on the other part of a translator's job, by connecting two things (or languages, or photos, or scenes) that never had a connection before. Show us the hidden links between your two chosen photos, the thoughts and occurrences just out of shot that join the two pictures together. Just as someone who translates a Chinese novel into French brings that novel closer to the French-speaking world, let your writing bring the essence of one photo to meet the other. And then bring that essence to meet us.
Which is all very noble. So to bring us down to earth, there's an extra rule: if you're writing about the naked dudes on bikes, you're not allowed to not mention the balls.
Submit your finished work to the Transliterations Prompt 14 Folder. All pieces submitted by the deadline will receive a journal feature from the group and myself.
The deadline for this prompt is July 10th. Happy transliterating!
A Matter Of Catching Up.
Gosh. So I guess I'm back. I posted a poem and everything.
Since I was gone, bearing in mind that I don't really remember when I left, I have:
Lived in San Francisco for four years;Been diagnosed with twelve chronic illnesses;Spent a year and a half bedbound;Got married, a bit;Reclaimed my autism (friends, I am autistic as heck);Entered a literary comic erotic fanfiction contest;Started a project called Share My Wonder;
Wrote a lot, but not nearly enough.
What have you been up to while I was gone? What's been happening around deviantART that I missed? What do you want to ask me about the years we spent apart? I just want to get to know yo
Devious Journal Entry
Gosh. Who's around here these days who I remember?
A Teachable Dicking
Last night I dreamt of a king who had journeyed far and wide, whose army had been decimated in battle, who was sick and weary of the world. Just when he thought all hope was lost, he came across the court of a foreign kingdom. They were suspicious of him—and for added flavour, the dream was very specific that they spoke French—but they invited him to refresh himself with dancing and music and a rest in a feather bed. Later that night, of course, two women of the court visited him and proceeded to ramrod him to death.
At this point, it was time to offer feedback. I told the writer I thought the plot was solid, but there were a num
Birthdays, Bubbles and Beauty
Talk to me about America. The green rind of the hills, the desert of the mind. The bubbles blown across Haight and Masonic by a hippy in her prime. Talk to me about the coffee shops, the flowers pushing themselves out of the earth in spring, the heart of things, the moles. Talk to me about dogs in the street and hobos in the park, the breathless rest, the soul. Tell me what it's like to land in San Francisco, the folk drumming of the engine coming to a stop and the tiny crumb you call yourself pushed out into the world. Tell me and I'll tell you how it feels to find a home in these tiny houses, to piece together a neighbourhood out of scraps
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