Just a thought...
on writing tales of epic friendships. perhaps i should write on the ordinary becoming the extraordinary. a story a bit closer to home -- at least then, i may write more truthfully, with greater impact. using the perfect phrase, "you know, sometimes i wish --"
"what?" [laughter and a wry smile]
"I just -- sometimes I wish I could just carry you around in my pocket, you know?" he remarks, as if the idea was particularly amusing. "Perhaps," he muttered to himself, "I'd make better choices..."
I want to write about death. And friendship, and family. I want a darkly funny character with a strange sense of humor ("sans cadaver," he explained with a flourish. "that's me. don't be surprised if you find me haunting graveyards for no other purpose but to steal last names for my own profit."). He'd be artistic, rude, abrupt, occasionally inept, but with an artless grace that balances his numerous faux pas with his innate physical balance. He'd be eloquent in writing but with speech just a little bit too fast. He'd blur the lines between the norm of what is socially acceptable just for the hell of it -- he'd "straddle the line," whilst attempting to find lewd humor in everything. He'd be described as "sleep deprived from the day he was born," and reply, "i'll sleep when i'm dead." He'd develop an obsession one week, carry it for months and then drop it totally for a year before returning to it -- his state of mind revolves around his current obsession. He would hold within himself both pessimism and idealism; he'd split himself in two, like two characters in a single body. He'd prize sarcasm and irony and wit. He loves deeply, he hates bitterlm his emotions have the power to completely take him over. He is a pisces, perfectly illogical, emotionally intuitive. He is a book lover, he loves words, he argues semantics and sinks into layers of syllables as one would sink luxuriously through layers of sheets. He loves heat and the ocean and summer. He hates snow and cold. He loves art and the movement of the city. He overanalyzes everything. He'd fall in love with attention and unorthodoxy and negativity. He would be reckless and irresponsible and talented.
his best friend is the watson to his holmes -- the scientific to his slightly insane, the other half of his brain.
his best friend would be his perfect foil, his opposite. he would be light to the main character's dark, logical to counter artistic, romantic idealism and responsible to irresponsible. He's very conscious of time ("you're like the white rabbit," his best friend says.
"What?" the lighter replies inarticulately.
"The white rabbit," the other repeats. "from Alice in Wonderland, always pressed for time. 'I'm late, I'm late!'" he continues in a spectacularly bad falsetto.) He is tall where the other is relatively short. he, unlike his darker friend, is the furthest thing from artistic one could possibly imagine. understanding simply comes to him logically -- it does not occur to him to outline the details that bring them together, in a flow from one point to the next. For him, it just happens -- it is apparent. He is the rigid stone to his best friend's changeable water. He is blunt rather than eloquent. (both of them are, but the latter more so than the former.)
the former of the two is the one who brings about change. the latter of them is the one to provide stability.
between the two of them is one responsible, logically thinking, well-rounded and intelligent adolescent. apart, they stand out. Apart, comprehension dawns on them in halves -- they are independent, intelligent, perfectly capable standing alone... but together, they are symbiotic, they are like lightning, they are brilliant and perfectly balanced. dark and light. emotions and logic. yin and yang.
so... my idea for this story (that i will likely not write in the near future) is this: what happens when you build up on that friendship, and then disrupt the balance? When yang dies, what happens to yin? and who will be there to watch one fall apart in the aftermath of the other's permanent absence?
"what?" [laughter and a wry smile]
"I just -- sometimes I wish I could just carry you around in my pocket, you know?" he remarks, as if the idea was particularly amusing. "Perhaps," he muttered to himself, "I'd make better choices..."
I want to write about death. And friendship, and family. I want a darkly funny character with a strange sense of humor ("sans cadaver," he explained with a flourish. "that's me. don't be surprised if you find me haunting graveyards for no other purpose but to steal last names for my own profit."). He'd be artistic, rude, abrupt, occasionally inept, but with an artless grace that balances his numerous faux pas with his innate physical balance. He'd be eloquent in writing but with speech just a little bit too fast. He'd blur the lines between the norm of what is socially acceptable just for the hell of it -- he'd "straddle the line," whilst attempting to find lewd humor in everything. He'd be described as "sleep deprived from the day he was born," and reply, "i'll sleep when i'm dead." He'd develop an obsession one week, carry it for months and then drop it totally for a year before returning to it -- his state of mind revolves around his current obsession. He would hold within himself both pessimism and idealism; he'd split himself in two, like two characters in a single body. He'd prize sarcasm and irony and wit. He loves deeply, he hates bitterlm his emotions have the power to completely take him over. He is a pisces, perfectly illogical, emotionally intuitive. He is a book lover, he loves words, he argues semantics and sinks into layers of syllables as one would sink luxuriously through layers of sheets. He loves heat and the ocean and summer. He hates snow and cold. He loves art and the movement of the city. He overanalyzes everything. He'd fall in love with attention and unorthodoxy and negativity. He would be reckless and irresponsible and talented.
his best friend is the watson to his holmes -- the scientific to his slightly insane, the other half of his brain.
his best friend would be his perfect foil, his opposite. he would be light to the main character's dark, logical to counter artistic, romantic idealism and responsible to irresponsible. He's very conscious of time ("you're like the white rabbit," his best friend says.
"What?" the lighter replies inarticulately.
"The white rabbit," the other repeats. "from Alice in Wonderland, always pressed for time. 'I'm late, I'm late!'" he continues in a spectacularly bad falsetto.) He is tall where the other is relatively short. he, unlike his darker friend, is the furthest thing from artistic one could possibly imagine. understanding simply comes to him logically -- it does not occur to him to outline the details that bring them together, in a flow from one point to the next. For him, it just happens -- it is apparent. He is the rigid stone to his best friend's changeable water. He is blunt rather than eloquent. (both of them are, but the latter more so than the former.)
the former of the two is the one who brings about change. the latter of them is the one to provide stability.
between the two of them is one responsible, logically thinking, well-rounded and intelligent adolescent. apart, they stand out. Apart, comprehension dawns on them in halves -- they are independent, intelligent, perfectly capable standing alone... but together, they are symbiotic, they are like lightning, they are brilliant and perfectly balanced. dark and light. emotions and logic. yin and yang.
so... my idea for this story (that i will likely not write in the near future) is this: what happens when you build up on that friendship, and then disrupt the balance? When yang dies, what happens to yin? and who will be there to watch one fall apart in the aftermath of the other's permanent absence?