March 01, 2011

Here I Am in Study Hall

Yes. The internet here's quite nice, too. Like a breath of fresh air, really.
People here are arguing about Darcy and spazzing about random stuff. I'm self-excluded as usual. But self pity avast!

YES. I guess I'll go ahead and post the rest of Ketchup. The newest chapter is number five, for some reason...I feel like I've probably posted half a dozen chapters on here already...I'll post the whole thing when something actually happens or something. I'm editing a bit here and there, so it'll be a bit better, hopefully.

5. The Author Uses Up Space


Were it up to the author to create a wonderful, flawless lovestory, he would doubtless fail miserably. In the deepest way the author has been able to muster, this story mirrors real life. It isn't too shameful to admit, either, that, in the more realistic scheme of things, several weeks or months have passed. In the story itself, one might imagine just after the sentence, "Jack careened off into the distance," the whole scene slowed to a standstill, Jack and all. Were the author more competent, he might have mentioned the presence of a rather pleasant sunset. As it is, the author isn't particularly competent. This may be partially due to the fact that the author is now engaged in a likely unprofitable exercise of his writing abilities, instead of doing something far more boring and educational. Regardless, this narrative must continue.

Jack continued careening off into the distance, in the general direction of a sunset not altogether unpleasant. His conscience rather harped on him and made its existence well known by the dispersal of several ounces of sweat, which would cause Jack the inconvenience, that night, of having to shower outside his normal schedule.

He soon arrived at the, "target location," as he'd nervously been repeating in his mind, exited the Hyperjet and proceeded to insert it into his pocket.
If, at this junction, the reader's mind fails to comprehend the previous statement, and decides to take issue with it, the author directs the reader to the abysmal writing that has so unpleasantly filled several chapters so far. If issue is to be taken with anything, this book should now have been put down and sprinkled with a soft layer of dust. If the reader feels reasonably sure they can deal with every and all oddity, verbal inconvenience, and complete failure of communication, the author genuinely hopes the following won't, "top it all," so to speak.

Jack found himself in a rather small block -- that is to say, a piece of land surrounded on all sides by city roads, a piece of land, moreover, whose size was sub-average -- wherein large quantities of people ambled aimlessly, smaller quantities jogged determinedly, and even less sat in the occasional patch of grass whose hue rather determinedly bellowed, "I'm alive!"

Trees of varying quality and size were strewn rather randomly over the green, shading the occasional patch of unkempt grass. The sun seemed to have gotten out of bed on the wrong foot and, suddenly finding himself gifted with appendages, trotted off in no particularly important direction. On the whole, the scene was ordinary. Jack noticed little of this consciously, because his conscious thoughts were occupied elsewhere. While the girl had practically seen him once in her life, he was still wondering the typical things a guy wonders when his heart is pounced upon suddenly by the fair visage of one of the fairer sex. Among these was the rather unpleasant debate of whether or not the girl even knew he existed. Still, Jack tried hard to be a man of action, and being here was the first step toward that. He was silently predisposed to think nothing could possibly happen that would make the girl aware of his existence, for the simple fact that he'd hide, run, or simply disappear rather than let her see him. This peculiar behavior can probably never be fully explained, but, in essence, the author is ready to assume Jack was afraid.

However, if he were simply afraid, he wouldn't have the slightest problem talking to a girl. He'd more likely skip the pleasantries and get to the whole hero act, supposing the impending threat was physical. As it was, the threat was in no way physical, but rather mental. Jack was rather unpleasantly disposed toward the whole human thing of talking to one another, and this simply because of fear. The precise reason of this fear may never actually be known, due to the depressing rapidity with which a guy falls for a girl and subsequently falls on his knee for a girl. Regardless, Jack was afraid.

Jack's first instinct was to use the Hyperjet to cloak himself, but that would sort of defeat the purpose of his plan. Being the military genius of the block, he sat down on a bench rather near the central sidewalk crossing from one corner to its opposite. His hands proceeded to exude sweat and engage each other in various recreative activities.






I just wrote that yesterday, I think...so enjoy! Oh, wait, you already did.




!Noah!

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