What Drinking Water Looks Like

Where’s the story ?

Is the story on the water, under it, in it ?
Is the story the water itself, or how it got there ?
Is the story the reflections on the surface, the ripples sent out by the crazy old man, the good times shared by three generations of family as we drank coffee we made with the water ? What’s the story ?

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What Food Looks Like

Forget fast food, forget packaged and processed food, this is what food actually looks like.

I was planning to write about how food is food, and packaged shit is packaged shit, and writing is writing, and most of what seems to pass for writing is now actually packaged shit too, but then I realised that there now seems to be more writing about how to write than there is actual good writing, and actually this is just more regurgitated packaged shit, so Shut The Fuck Up Me.
Nice food though. Not for thought. Just for eating. Nom Nom Nom Fucking Nom. Whatever.

What a (Mad)Man Looks Like

Is there any excuse for this ?

Ok, so, let’s say you’re writing a story whose protagonist is kinda nuts… is it helpful to take on an appearance that may suit such a character ? Or to act the way he or she does, sometimes, but in your own life… And how far should you take it ? Like a method actor, but for writers instead.
Unless you’re writing about serial killers… but then again, maybe the appearance at least ?
Or is there just no excuse to wander around looking like the, umm, Thing in the photo ?

What a Man Looks Like

Does this look like the sort of man who needs some other man’s name printed on his undies to make him feel better about himself ?

Yes, that’s a little knife he’s holding. Yes, that’s pieces of kangaroo he’s been cutting up with it.
Yes, that’s his axe you see behind him, and yes, in his late 70s he’s still cutting all his own firewood plus enough for a neighbouring family.
(No, my American friends, the u in neighbouring is not a spelling mistake, and neither are most of what you might think of as my spelling mistakes, it’s the correct spelling in English, as used in pretty much every English speaking country in the world except yours, but that’s a subject for another day)
The life of the old guy in the photo is the basis for much of the best and truest and most meaningful fiction I will write. But I really want to do justice to it, so I decided to write two other novels first, hoping to learn how it’s done.
But… I’d really like the old guy in the photo to read some of that future work, and given the nature of ageing, and also the mad bugger’s propensity for high risk behaviours, I sometimes wonder if I should maybe write some of the stuff based on him first. Waddayareckon ?

Write What You Know ?

Page somethingorother, Touched with Fire by Kay Redfield Jamison.

So last night I wrote a suicide note. which is a bastard of a thing to tell people, although, fairly obvously, if you are now reading about it….. etc etc.
I’ve been Not Very Well in the Head lately, always happens for me this time of year, quite normal and nothing I can’t handle.
So I’ve been trying to get some writing done, and had this great idea to take advantage of it and write a suicide note one character may or may not end up writing in my FWIP. It turned out pretty well I think. Well it upset me a lot anyway. Anyway, there is a point to this stupid post.
Just having a problem spelling it out somehow.
Is it worth it, writing crazy shit when you’re not right, and it might make you worse ? Or should someone like me not write about anyone like me ?
Or, whatever, make up a better question and give me an answer, I’m a fucking moron to be writing this, I’ll probably be in the shit with everybody who knows me for doing it anyway, or maybe not, I don’t know, I’m pretty big and old and ugly now, maybe people realise I can look after myself and I might just be trying to find an answer to something. I suppose if it bothers anyone I could do a post about fluffy bunnies next.
Of course, those bastards, or mechanical versions of them anyway, have been known to inflict certain injuries of their own. 33 years ago today in fact. Fuck them.
Can anyone believe how much I rant, considering I don’t even drink ? Almost seems like I should start, just to have an excuse.
Anyway, if anyone has any sort of answer to any of those questions half way down this rambling pile of shit, I’d love to hear it.