Rants 4 and 5,6 for today

After a rather nice morning stroll through the forest, a few thoughts rants and stories writen I sat down for a rather yummy breakfast. food for thought, or food to fuel a new rant of mine. Here I will continue my goal for today to write 10 short thoughs, roughtly around 600 words each enough to pose an argument, or enough space to ramble on. So far today I have writen three and have added a few of my resent favourites to the last post. Why not celebrate something I am proud of by reblogging? It is not as though reading it again will me ash in your mouth.

 

title: editing my essays

After breakfast things move slow, I had so much ambition to get things done today and yet I am stuck in this pit of like whatever, what is the point of carrying on. I am trying to stay focused trying to reach the seemingly unreachable. somemethods I have for writting is writng the same paragraph over and over again until it is somehow better and all the cluncky parts just fizzle out. This method I used a lot in high school, with the essays I had to write. I would write out the essay and then just right the same paragraph over and over again until it bought on its own sort of magical light. This proved useful as my teacher really liked the paragraphs that I had written again and again. A way to fix things but without putting too much thought into it.

This has proved much more tediuse with longer writings, as writing ten times the amount of paragraphs that a piece of writing will have, can be a process. But I feel as though at some point that I will have to do this if I want to bring my rambles into something more readable. though at the momemnt I like the mix of ramble to something more consise. Maybe this will be my style of writing? maybe this is how I will get things done? maybe this is a good thing, to not follow the rules that have been set out infront of me.

Title: split bill

Where was  I something about pork? I really don’t like shredded ham on pizza, so many times as a child I have had shredded ham. And felt bloated and not well. I think good food should leave you feeling well and happy like the delicious nepalise food I had last night and there was a split bill that we had last night and I don’t think we handled it the best when the cashier started to get confused. I think he had a learning disability and I have been in that situation as a cashier when I add something up wrong and then struggle to do basic math because my brain has turned to jelly. I wanted to solve it and make it simple for him, but so did my friends and that didn’t help the cashier with us all talking at once. I am thinking that a good way to not only solve it but to make it a less stressful situation for the cashier would be to make everyone take a break. “okay this will take a moment to sort out, but before we do that lets take a break. The lovely gentelman was nice enough to let us split the bill for the nice meal we have had. ” “friend, would you like to tell me your method of bill splitting so then we can repeat it nice and calmly to the lovely gentelman who is letting us split the bill?” then we would discuss my friends method, I would add whatever points. and with our organised method My friend would relay it back to the cashier. And done. Less stress, everyone happy, If only split bills worked that easily.

Title: I am but a simple milk maiden

I sat there crying my eyes out, what did I know about vampires? what did I know about the demans that lurk at night. I was but a simple milk maiden. An a-sexual, simple, milk maiden. who knew so little of the word, but had high speed internet to search up cake recipies. So I was a cake conasure, a-sexual, simple, milk maiden. Did I mention that I dressed super femme. I was but a simple a sexual, super femme, cake conassure milk maiden. who knew so little about vampiers. And yet I had been called into the town this evening asked to battle the undead. how did they come to the conclustion that I – but a simple  a-sexual, super femme, cake conassure milk maiden. who knew so little about vampiers. – To fight the undead. So I walked into town, carring a wooden pole thinggy that I carry to hold milk with. And placed it down in the town square, I gave the milk to the shop keepers who handed me coins in exchange. I then walked into the town square where people where gathering, many faces. There she is! I heard voices say. and wispering amongst the crowd. Come here, step to the front young lady where we can all see you.

I stood on the stage and looked around, it seemed like everyone in town and the sourrounding farms had gathered, this was more people than I had seen at the town dance last summer where I felt the happiest I had ever felt with my pink and purple dress, laying down in the hay with friends for a rest after so much dancing and giggling. Young lady we have some questions for you. I was so confused, I had never been the centre of attention even amongst my small ground of friends. As I was but a simple  a-sexual, super femme, cake connoisseur milk maiden. who knew so little about vampires. 

And so I stood there looking bashful at the many onlookers. Young child we have gathered here today as there has been some concern with the vampires that live over the far hill. They do not normally bother us, but something recently has given us great concern. Young child, the mayor of the town, held my hand. And then with his other pointed at the wall behind us, the old stone wall, that had stood the test of time, most likely build when people first settled in this area. On the bricks carved into the stone and then painted read in the carvings was: We want to speak to the Milk Maiden, regards the vampires!

This was pretty clear as I was the only milk maiden in the village that they would want to speak to me. But why? I told the townfolk that I did not know what this was about and that  I was but a simple  a-sexual, super femme, cake connoisseur milk maiden. who knew so little about vampires. But from the mutterings and chatter it seemed clear that whatever this was about they wanted me to fix it.

 

 

Sunday rants, stories, or whatever.

A daily collection of thoughts rants, rambles, short stories and moments of funny as I trundle and trudge through the mess and muck of my mind with one goal to write ten short stories a day. There will be nine short stories in this collection as I have already posted the first today. Basically all the titled notes below are rants that turn into stories. I did not seperate them as I wanted to show you- the lovely reader. How thoughts and ideas develop in my head, eg. from a rant about the weather into a story about a world of soup.  enjoy!

Title: writing is like jumping on hovering boxes, or whatever. 

600 words to say I am stuck seems like a loong way to get nowhere. what good is it that I am here and what good is it if I cannot move from here. It seems rather useless to just be and not have the will or power to make it something more than what it seems to be. I start out small or from a point that I can consider to be something worth while and from there I attempt to jump onto a higher point of thought something with a tale that I can grab onto, a sort of method in my madness.

But for now I am happy jumping on boxes, making my way up from one box to a higher box, leaping and making the climb, there is a long way to fall down now, and the sturdy boxes that seem to float in mid-air hold my body weight and the extra force it takes to jump and fall onto one. They are like a cardboard box, though made from copper or brass, but somehow a little softer than hard metal.

I would count to ten hold my breath and then make the leap to the next box. I would do this one after the other. I am not sure why I felt necessary to get this done, but whatever. Writing I have been told is like jumping on hovering boxes, or whatever. I look at how far I have come and it seems so inferiour. I take this time as I am sitting here to masturbate. This is my fantasy and I do what I will. Luckly I had a large bottle of lube in my back pocket, I pulled it out and covered my hand in the sticky mess. I fingered my arsehole. This was how I would start my “self-meditation”. And so it went, touching and prodding myself until I was to tired to care and just wanted to lay down and rest. reaching out with my non-lube-hand I grabbed a hovering box that was within reach and pulled it closer to me, on these two hovering boxes. I curlled up to rest. The warm air was like a blanket and the gental sway of the boxes in the brease rocked me to sleep.

I dreamt long and hard, of solid things, and soft things, I was climbing a great big hill and battling a dragon at some point, but really I was just farting in my sleep. When I awoke the sun was high in the sky and this could be why I felt so strange. could it be that I had grown, could it be that maths was my friend? I do not know where these questions come from or the answers that they would provide.

And so as the sun arose from an unknown point and blue filtered all around me I climbed higher for the purpose and goal of climbing, I had a process, a method to my madness and I was determined to make the climb. as I climbed higher the boxes changed shape from short skinny boxes to long flat boxes, and I found myself dragging small boxes with me, huddling them together to make a little nest in the sky.

I made a flat floor with a raised section for where I would rest. I built walls, and window holes, I made a roof, and after a long day as the sun began to dip away from an unknown point in the sky I hang my feet over the side of my nest and looked on, the world below, and my bottle of lube sitting next to me. I was the masturbatory climber in the sky. 

title: 2,000 reasons why to keep on blogging and why THE RULE-SETTER is bad for your town. 

A new chapter, I had come to this town to start a new chapter in my life and I was concerned that my past would somehow follow me, Like an unwashed cat, slinking about, meow, meow, meow hiss. On an unrealated not with regrards to blogging I remember reading artilcles online to work out how to run a blog, there were things about adding tags, having titles, and then there was also a side note I had forgotten about blog post over 2,000 words getting a better highraque? Idk how that is pronounced  but oh well. So that probably would explain why some of my older, longer blog post have stood the test of time. This post will be 600 words per short thought, times 10 short thoughts for the daily goal which would make it 6000 words? minuse the first thought I had already posted today would bring it down to 5,400 words…. that is a fair few words. and sounds like a busy day to me to write that much. But that gives me atleast 2,000 reasons why to keep on blogging today.

I started this day goal driven, when I make the rules then things go in the direction I want, when I set the goals things go in the direction I want. I can’t sit around for someone else to make up the rules, that would only put me at a disadvantage, who knows what rulse they would make or if they would change them. And like a raging thought that was born in my mind. The rule-setter was born.

Crying and windging the rule-setter was a small child, born with a piece of parchment and a quill. ready to take down notes, and jot down thoughts and ideas. The rule-setter had very few thoughts and ideas but all the same, food, poop, milk, hugs, cold, warm, was a start. these thoughts were scribbled down on the parchment, not as words but as lines that made sence to a baby that had not yet developed the ability to hold a quill, and had no understanding of the language in which it was born into. But with time and desire, the rule-setter began to write more ledgeable thoughts and ideas.

One idea that the rulesetter had was that all milk should be delivered to him before anyone else has any milk, until the rulesetter was full. This caused a lot of problems in the town as mothers and dairy milkmen, would come bounding down the street and up the driveway, demanding to deliver milk to the rulesetter. Women would remove there tops and force their swollen breast at the door, and milk men would attempt to push past the women holding their breast to get his milk closer to the door and closer to the child who wanted all the milk.

The child – rule-setter would crawl over to the front door hungry, and could hear shouting and yelling and the russle of shoving as people crowded around the front door of his home. The rule setter would open the front door and be covered in a delicious mix of milks, this would be the rule-setters daily ruiten. once full, he would utter a content ” thank-you townfolk, that is all enjoy your day” and with a wave shut the door behind himself. left there as the townfolk awake from their frantic daze they would embarised make their way back to their houses and lives and carry on like nothing had happened.

The rulesetter would become more problematic for the town as he grow up.

Title: Fell into a bowl of soup

I was cooking a hot pot of soup, as it steamed away on the stove I ladeled out a portion that I knew I would enjoy. The steam from the soup fogged up my glasses as I breathed in the yummy smells.

I sat down to enjoy my soup, with a spoon I slurped away and drank it down, when I was near finished I put my soup spoon down and with both hands on the bowl drank down the last of it.

I held it above my head to get the last drop, but then the bowl slipped from my hands and it fell onto me.

But instead of it hitting me on my head, I went into the bowl. I don’t even know how this was happening but it was like the bottom of the soup bowl entered me into a portal that took me to another world. A world of soup.

I crash-landed in the soup bowl land, swimming about, treading water. The warm soup and noodles, and peas floated around me, I could feel my whole body becoming more relaxed with the salt bath I was taking.

I had a few slurps of the soup as I stayed afloat. Looking around I did not see an edge to this vast soup ocean. so I started rounding up peas and noodles, tying the noodles in knots, poking holes in the peas and threading the noodles through them.  soon I had a pea and noodle raft.

I laid back on my pea and noodle raft, breathing heavily. Now I had time to think.

to be continued…..

title: but gone mad

In the realm of bizarre, I like to think of silly things, explore them and see how far I can take them.

What if my butt fell of? what. I don’t even Understand? Okay so lets say that “the butt” is detachable and is held onto the body with a strap. And one day that leather strap broke and the butt just fell of. Would I still be able to poop?

I would like to think that my but would go on functioning and producing poop as I went about my day. Maybe our lives will change, I have to move interstate to do my busy job.

But every now and then i’ll hit my butt up, we will go out for three coffees, head back to my butts house attach that leather strap, and have a good three coffee poop.

title: bear with me

Stuck, My foot trapped between a rock and a log, oh shit how did this happen,

I was running through the woods, a great bear at my heals, I know how he knew I was there, I am normally so quiet, but tonight I was careless and now I am running, well not running trapped with a bear chasing me.

I turn to hear the rumble of the beast as it pounces ontop of me, I feel the full weight of the bear pressing down on my bones, I hear a snap, oh shit was that a bone? my ribs, I look down to see that the log which had trapped my leg against the rock had been crushed, and my foot slid free, I poked the bear in the ribs and wiggled out.

This big beast, was thrashing about, but was unable to tell the difference between me and the log, as it attacked the log I made my escape, back into the village, I will never be so careless again.

Ttile: the rock-pool beneath my bed

The rockpool beneath my bed,

I let my food dangle, as my toes creat small ripples in the water,

fish swim about, some curiously, touch my toes before continuing on,

the deep blue, how deep I do not know,

once I rolled over in my sleep and fell into the cold, crisp water,

boy did I wake up that day, spashing about, pulling myself up, soaked,

dripping wet onto my white dry sheets that had just me washed and drried on the line that day,

the rockpool beneath my bed, what treasures you hold.

 

I hope you enjoyed a few of my rants and tales. But for now I will take a break have some breakfast and continue writing today!

A good rhythm

Whenever I am on holidays I find it easy to get into a rut. Not for any other reason than all the busy this I usually do aren’t there to  occupy my time. And when I have brief moments of free time I am attracted to whatever fares interest, and this is fine. So if I have no structure and only whatever fares interest then I am left in a chaotic mess!

Therefore I have to create my own structure my own Rhythm.

  • early morning walk
  • write my ten short thoughts
  • do something nessesary like grocery shopping/ cooking
  • go for another walk
  • sketch ten pages

This is enough to keep a good rhythm that I usually lack during the holidays.

Careless struggle with a bear

tumblr_lsq6yxhrsr1qcs5xjo1_400

Stuck, My foot trapped between a rock and a log, oh shit how did this happen,

I was running through the woods, a great bear at my heals, I know how he knew I was there, I am normally so quiet, but tonight I was careless and now I am running, well not running trapped with a bear chasing me.

I turn to hear the rumble of the beast as it pounces ontop of me, I feel the full weight of the bear pressing down on my bones, I hear a snap, oh shit was that a bone? my ribs, I look down to see that the log which had trapped my leg against the rock had been crushed, and my foot slid free, I poked the bear in the ribs and wiggled out.

This big beast, was thrashing about, but was unable to tell the difference between me and the log, as it attacked the log I made my escape, back into the village, I will never be so careless again.


image unknown

Afloat in the rockpool

I swim about, the water is not my home, but with all the time I spend here floating I wish it was,

The sun is hot, and the rocks are baked, heated under the all day sun, the water is cool on my skin and all feels right,

I look below, I have been here before, exploring as much as I can in a single breath,

my thoughts move away from the water the rocks and the sun, to the rain and my love,

I left my love last week, to head to the coast, it was raining, it always rains up in the mountains, where we sit by the fire, each engrossed in our own books, feet draped over each other as we nesstle entangled on the couch.

I have all my heart left up on the mountain, and as I gentally bob up and down in the cool ocean I think of my love,

I watch the sun shimmer in the sky, and the blue sky, and blue water mix together as though I could swim and reath the sun, hold it tight and feel its warmth thoughout me.

 

The Rockpool beneath my bed

tumblr_omsu91hllu1s3scn4o1_500

The rockpool beneath my bed,

I let my food dangle, as my toes creat small ripples in the water,

fish swim about, some curiously, touch my toes before continuing on,

the deep blue, how deep I do not know,

once I rolled over in my sleep and fell into the cold, crisp water,

boy did I wake up that day, spashing about, pulling myself up, soaked,

dripping wet onto my white dry sheets that had just me washed and drried on the line that day,

the rockpool beneath my bed, what treasures you hold.


image unknown

Wild tiger

tumblr_ojkg7r7gex1w31o74o1_500

Controlling the wild tiger within,

You make me mad,

And my body shakes as I walk away, The wild tiger awakes,

I step carefully away, steady I tell myself,

But the wild tiger as been disturbed and growls,

I can feel my throat opening as the death rattle echoes from within me,

Blood read rage fills my eyes, and the tiger is out,

knocking over tables, smashing and crashing,

I have no control, I feel the power and rage fill me, consume me,

and I have to destroy.


image unknown

Ten post a day, my reasoning

tumblr_o2ybdafg7l1qb0wfxo1_500

I have to rethink why I write a lot,

maybe it is because I hit a wall after a few days of writing,

there are a few methods I like: “write 10 pages a day/ good or bad, write ten pages, then put down the tools and enjoy the rest of your day” this is paraphrasing something I read in Stephen Kings ‘On writing’ a few years back,

I think it is a good way to keep it happening, just start writing, forget about editing and fixing things up, just write, I have seen artist across many forms do the same thing, painters draw, several quick sketches before they settle down with a work that they like, warming up I guess?

And for me that is ten post a day,  I don’t think they are any good yet, but that is not the point the point is for me to quickly produce short thoughts at a moments notice, warm up my writing and by the tenth, or ninth have something worth reading that I can be happy to have written.

xx lotta love,

Lilly Plum.


image unknown

 

Can you be an individual in a pack?

tumblr_oqgz4sjrud1wqw2aro1_500

In a room to loud,

I have been thinking about how I like to handle things,

living with other people, new people has throw of my internal balance,

where are my hours of pondering? where are my long walks?

I have had a moment to think of it all and have decided to make the most of my time,

I like long walks, I like doing solo activities, it not so much about sadness or anything like that,

I just need uninterrupted steam of consciousnesses to flow though me, to ground me to think it all though in my head, make the move when I am ready.


image unknown