Step 14: Write dick jokes and read about Ira Glass

This post contains florid extracts from my poetry, as well as some motivational information near the bottom, so you'll have to trawl through the poetry to get them apples. 

Tomorrow I'll post the next chapter to Children of the Pantheon, which is when the book begins proper, with actual characters.

That said, I just finished the first draft of chapter 8 of the fantasy novel today. Progress! The chapter involved a hole in the wall and a dude who likes a girl.

Sometimes, for me, the joy of writing is contained in its utter freedom to be as artfully foul as possible.

It was very difficult not to make that scene with the hole as glorious as possible, as my poems can attest to my fondness for phallic imagery. 

It's a challenge to hold back when I write stories. 

I almost wrote an alternate version of that chapter, perhaps a slash fic for premiere members of my future fan club, those who are willing to shell out large amounts of money for signed merch, I will write them custom designed erotic fan fiction set in my novels universes. Might as well write all of it in advance eh?

There's something about a good dick joke that appeals to the literati in me. The same literati that holds dear these lines from Scene 2 of Titus Andronicus, though I can't quite quote much else of WS:

CHIRON: Thous has undone our mother.

AARON: Villain, I have done thy mother.

Ah, but poetry.

Even if I am destined to lose a slam competition, such as last years Peel Street Poetry Slam, I try to leave my mark behind. One of the judges last year was a well-known journalist, comic writer in HK who used to make speeches at my school during assembly.

'Twas a live slam, and I had 10 minutes to compose, so excuse the profound imagery and perfect meter, what follows is an extract from the middle of the poem, which was made to be read live but:

[...]

Ever since that day,

Since Akin JJ,

This stage has been a place,

A place of privilege.

I ain't got much left in me today,

Woke up hard and sad,

And thought it was much too late,

But the words that have been said,

On this stage,

They circle my head,

Enough of a halo for me.

Said, and I've heard,

The way you've cheered,

So fuck it If I can't think of a dick joke in time

For Mr Vitacchi to hear me rhyme,

If I can't get it up in front of his eyes,

Then I'll dribble some words,

Make an Oh shit face and sigh.

Oh wait.

Is it too late?

To apologize?

I've got your attention with my verbal erection,

So in this last section I'm reach around

And you'll hear right now,

The only goddamn truth,

That from the bottom to top of my soul,

Thank you,

Thank you,

Thank you.

[...]

Thus thank you, dear readers, for reading these blog posts and any of my story extracts or stories whole.

Further on the subject of my fondness for a good bit of British pudding, here's an extract from my seminal masterpiece, "Jihadsterbation.":

[...]

I'm taking self-indulgence to the level of Holy War,

Poking a glory hole in the fourth wall,

So y'all can see what I look like with my pants down,

My life is rock hard!

And it can stay that way for hours, even days on end,

I can hear you moan

"Whose isn't?"

But you wont mind me talking about it,

Schlong as I insert a dick joke.

[...]

I'm a poet see.

Okay, so Ira F***ing Glass.

I have 159 images in my cycling wallpaper folder on my desktop. All of them are motivational images or what have you, and I add to it everytime I find something new, such as the Deadpool paper for the featured image of this one. But my two most favorite backgrounds are probably:

Because it makes me happy.

And more constructively:

Which frankly, I live by.

Lest thou judge me and my mature sensitivities, I refer you to Amadeus himself: