Writing Exercise #!

Starting to write, a mishap with a man and a car, and cosmic bad habbits

Writing Exercise #! "Just write (And don’t pay much mind to what youre wrting because it is all bullshit anyways, this is just more honest about it)

           

            So I begin writing by stating that I have just begun writing, that is twice now that I have warned you that my story is in session, in my opinion that is ample amount of heads-up to allow you, the reader to discern that this piece of writing has begun. And I am sorry to treat you in this way, spinning your head in circles and driving your patience into the ground, but in the world outside the pages of this writing, there are people who can in no way spot that their story has begun, or is in progress for that matter (I am not saying that you personally are this way, but practically everyone is this way, including you). They live their day and night waiting for their story, their big moment to begin and most the time don’t realize that their story has begun. That each of their breaths is a period, and every story has got a final period. Their story is going on all their life. And it could be the people’s sight has been faulted by the constant glow of their computers, and their television, and their damn pinterest-instagram-facebook-vine-twitter things or if it is because us narrators aren’t any good at storytelling anymore, but if either are the case, well I just want to let you know that this story has begun. And now I have forgotten how it ended.

 

            The white man replaced the red hand and I crossed the street, the parallel crosswalk lines reminded me that I could be hit if I go outside the lines. On the end there is a man standing at the curb and glowing under the streetlamp, I don’t think he can see well and doesn’t know that the light has changed. I don’t think he can see me, I can hear him humming though. “The light changed, you can go.” I said to him when both my feet were on the sidewalk. He bumped his head with his puckered-lip-fullbody hum and started his feet onto the street. I smiled because I had helped him, he could have been standing there for a couple more minutes.

            I stopped smiling when he was hit by the car because I was shocked, the man had just been hit by a car, and the car had just hit him. His humming stopped, but the car screeched and so it wasn’t silent. When the screeching stopped, the silence that followed was much louder than the screeching.  I went to the man first, “You were just hit by that car, are you alright?” I asked his unconscious body and he unconsciously told me that he was not awake because he had just been hit by a car. I pulled out my phone, first I called my buddy Jay to let him know that I had just seen a man be hit by a car, “Hey Jay, I just seen a guy get hit by car.” I hung up with Jay, who had also just seen a man get hit by a car. I then called the paramedics to tell them the same thing, “Hello paramedics, yes, I have seen a man get hit by a car, yes, East and Laguna, yeah, tell ‘em they’ll see a man who has just been hit by a car and a car parked because it has just hit a man.”

            I then walked the street to the car, the windshield had busted because the man had hit it with his body. The guy in the car, there was only one guy and he was at the wheel, but he wasn’t holding the wheel. He was typing out a message on his phone. I could see it and it read, “Dude, what am I going to do, I just hit a man with my car.”

            My pocket vibrated because I had just gotten a text message. The text was from Jay, “Dude, what am I going to do, I just hit a man with my car.”

            The guy in the car was jay, my buddy jay. My buddy Jay had just hit the humming man with his car. “Jay, I’ve got the paramedics coming. They’ll be looking for a guy that has been hit by a car and a guy who looks like he hit somebody with a car, and I gotta tell you Jay, you sure do look like you hit somebody with a car.”

            Jay opened his car door and stepped out from the car, his hands were on top of his head, one placed over the other. “I just hit that guy over there. I hit him.” Jay pointed down the street and staggered his step. “You called the paramedics.”

            I told him I had and that they were coming for the man who had been hit.

            We waited. The paramedics came. They took him away to the hospital because his body had been hit by a car. 

 

 

            Ronnie Stokelan picked his nose often enough for his mother to call it a nasty habit. He picked his nose enough to feel an attachment to the act. His mother said that if he kept at his picking, well he’d give his brain a firm jab with the tip of his finger, but Ronnie knew that wasn’t true, and neither was the business about the gold. If there were gold, all of his excavating would have paid off by now, no, what Ronnie was going to find in his nostrils was far beyond gold and so much more vast than the human brain. One day, Ronnie, poked in his nose looking for a crusty one, but instead ripped a hole in space and created for himself a personal, nasal black-hole. What did this mean for Ronnie? For starters, he would never have the opportunity for a rad cocaine addiction, but that was a long-term consequence.

            He still had feet to stop with, but could no longer smell the roses. Consequently he began to live at the pace of a noseless jet-plane.

             A con-artist came of Ronnie Stokelan.  It began on the playground; woodchips, rocks, dirt, pencils, pennies, they were all entering his nose and to the amazement of his peers, were disappearing in there….       

            I’m tired now; this is the end of the exercise. Hope you liked the writing and were horribly and disturbingly aggravated with it.

Author's Note

Not edited, not revised, spur of the moment babble

Reviews

[Vian]

I like it. It needs no revising in my opinion, babble is great as it is, as babble. Thank you for being powerful enough to post your babble for my entertainment. It was quite entertaining. I feel like I've taken up the sort of style you used in the first one and the second.

[Avery]

What a great chunk of babble this is! A cleverly put first section that tied in with the mini story in the second section. Such dependence has left us to be merely no better than a machine. We need facts stated relayed back to us in perfect order and thinking for ourselves has become such a rare thing. It's amazing to think that such a piece came from a spur of the moment so perhaps there is still some hope left:)

[Naraly Godinez]

I loved it it was great I'm fascinated by the idea of three different topics all so very diverse. The first was fantastic, I believe all writers sound like that even if only in their minds. At some point we have that disturbing conversation with ourselves. The second story made me feel like I was a fish in a bowl looking through the foggy glass. A goldfish you know the ones with the big eyes that pop out of their heads, only because I feel like I was jumping back and forth from the perspective of each character . The last was by far the most disturbing even painful at the thought of such occurance but it was fun to read snd very comedic . I'd love to read spur of the moments more often

[Chadvonswan]

Spur of the moment babble is the best type of babbling. You should do more writing without knowing where the hell you're going with it. There are usually fun outcomes